High Note (8 page)

Cleary opened her eyes wide and smiled. “All right.” She put her hand to her mouth and coughed. “Sorry. Yeah, it was good to hear from Crissy. I’ve been thinking of calling you two lately.”

I looked over at Crissy. “Hear from Crissy?” I said. “I thought…” A waitress was at our table, pen and pad in hand.

“Can I please have a ginger ale?” Crissy said.

“Sure. What about you two?”

“Tea,” Cleary said.

“I’m going to stick with water for now,” I said.

“Are we eating here?” the waitress asked.

“Three grilled cheese and a plate of fries to share,” Crissy said. It was what we’d always had when we were eleven or twelve. I wasn’t certain I wanted a grilled cheese, but remembering those days felt good. I hadn’t been feeling like myself since the opera began. I had never really been under pressure in my life before. Not like this. I was handling it, but I really needed some friends. Sean had been there for me as much as possible, but he was often busy. He was looking at expensive colleges and working extra shifts at the laser-tag place.

Cleary sneezed as the waitress walked away. She grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and apologized again. “I hear you’re in some theater thing,” she said.

“An opera, actually,” I said.

“Wow, that’s awesome,” Cleary said, wiping her nose. “So you do lots of singing?”

“Yes, it’s a Mozart opera.
The Marriage of Figaro
.”

“That’s the one that Bugs Bunny does, right?”

“No,” Crissy said, jumping into the conversation. “That’s
The Barber of Seville
.”

Cleary sneezed again. Her eyes and nose were red.

“I don’t remember you having allergies,” I said.

“It’s all about this count,” Crissy said before Cleary could answer. “And he has eyes for someone other than his wife.”

“I don’t know that one,” Cleary said.

I waited for her to take a drink of her water and then repeated, “I don’t remember you having allergies.”

Cleary turned to me, blowing her nose into a napkin. “Oh, I don’t. I was in New Zealand with my dad. It’s winter down there. I caught a stupid cold. It’s almost done though, I think.” She cleared her throat, and when the waitress brought her a tea, she drank deeply and slowly. Enjoying the feeling of warmth moving down her sore throat, I guessed.

“New Zealand,” I said. “What was that like?” I looked at Crissy again, who was working on her ginger ale.

“It’s awesome down there. Totally,” Cleary said before falling into another coughing fit. “With all the mountains and the water and everything. We went heli-skiing. I picked up something
from one of the other skiers. It sucks, but it was totally worth it. It’s weird to have a terrible cold when it’s so hot and humid out.”

“I bet,” I said. I took a drink from my water and then excused myself to go to the washroom. It was around a corner beside the kitchen. I went as far as turning the corner, then stopped and looked back. From where I stood, I could see our table, but it would be difficult for Crissy to spot me. I waited a moment, hoping I was wrong. Hoping that what I thought was happening wasn’t. But then Cleary looked out the window, and I watched as Crissy swapped my water glass with Cleary’s.

I fell against the wall. I felt like crying. You can’t write your friends off, I thought. You can’t do that. I knew I should go back and talk to Crissy about what had happened. Maybe if we got it all out in the open, we could move past it. I wanted to tell her it wasn’t worth it. That Barbarina wasn’t even that big a role. That missing out on one part wasn’t the end of her career.

But I didn’t have any charity available. She’d stepped over a line, and I wasn’t certain she would ever be able to step back.

It felt as though our friendship was truly over.

So I didn’t go back to the table. I slipped out the door and walked back to my house, earbuds plugged into my ears,
The Marriage of Figaro
playing loudly, making the world and all the people in it feel like bit actors in the production of my life.

Thirteen

A
nd then it was opening night. There was a kind of electricity in the air. Everything we’d been working toward was going to come together at last.

The dress rehearsal had gone off almost without a hitch. Amanda had sat us down that afternoon and spoken very briefly about what we could improve. We were all there, understudies included, when she came to me. “Hailey, you’ve proven to us all that we absolutely made the right choice for Barbarina,” she said. “If you perform as you did last night, you will find glowing reviews in the morning.”

“Thank you,” was all I could manage. Denise had squeezed my arm a little. Then I’d spotted Crissy across the room, watching. She had her
arms crossed, and I could tell she wanted to leave. But she couldn’t. She had to stand there and listen.

Until that moment, Crissy wouldn’t have known how well the dress rehearsal had gone because she’d skipped the entire week. Apparently, she’d come down with a cold. I didn’t know whether to believe this or not. On the one hand, it would have been poetic justice if Crissy had actually caught Cleary’s cold. But I had a feeling it was just another lie.

I really hoped that Crissy had missed the rehearsals because she felt bad about what she’d attempted to do.

* * *

Everyone was wishing us good luck as the members of the orchestra took their spots. I peeked around the curtain and found the entire hall full, right up to the top of the second balcony.

Sean gave me a bump on the arm.

“Nervous?”

“That’s the wrong thing to ask someone,” I said.

“Well, are you?”

I let the curtain fall back. “I wasn’t until you came up here and started asking me if I was.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he said.

Which was incredibly useful.

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“Nerves are the very root of suffering. They arrive as one is worrying about the future or concerned about the past. They happen when you’re not thinking of the moment at all. If you get nervous, you will just
get through
this performance. You won’t really be a
part
of it.” He grabbed me by my giant poofy shoulders. “Be in the moment.”

“You are tiring,” I said. “I mean, honestly and truly exhausting.”

It looked like he was going to kiss me.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“Looking deeply into your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I want to see if you’re in the moment.”

Luckily, Mrs. Sturgeon called for the chorus, and Sean had to take off before things got any weirder.

It was strange to hear the chorus warming up without me. Normally, I’d have been right there
in the middle of it. Instead, I stood watching, as though it was some group I’d had something to do with long ago.

As though I’d moved on.

They sounded great once they were out on the stage. Crissy looked miserable though. Her face, when she wasn’t singing, fell in the same way as that grumpy-cat meme on the Internet.

It broke my heart to see her like that, but it was sort of funny too. She looked like an entitled little kid who hadn’t gotten what she wanted. She was pouting, angry, and trying to make everyone around her feel the same way.

Before I knew it was happening, the lights went down and the orchestra began to play the overture.

People moved behind me in the dimness. There was an energy in the backstage area I’d never felt before. As though everyone was on the verge of exploding. The orchestra sounded amazing. And then it was time for the first singing part, and the performers slipped onstage.

I watched from behind the curtain until it was my time to go on. Of course, I stepped slightly off to one side and was blinded by a spotlight. I stumbled a little, corrected myself and refocused.

It’s incredible being on a stage, singing with an orchestra. I don’t know how to explain it. I mean, there’s the music playing, the other actors moving through their parts, the audience there in the darkness before you. And your voice rising up above it all.

Maybe if Sean hadn’t said anything, I wouldn’t have been nervous, but I was feeling it now. My hands were clammy. My voice jittered slightly. Still, I managed to contain the nerves. I let them flow through me and out. I didn’t hold them in my hands or stomach. I didn’t let them get near my vocal cords. I focused on the music and what I had to do.

When it was over and we’d taken our bows, Denise dragged me to the front of the stage to take one extra bow. I held her hand as we bent, then straightened again. Denise stepped away, and the audience continued to clap. I bowed again, alone at the front of the stage, the spotlights completely blinding me.

Everyone was standing. The entire audience was on its feet.

“That was perfect, Hailey,” Denise said as we left the stage. “You did so well.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Tomorrow you get to do it again.”

“I can’t wait,” I said. I wanted to be back on the stage already. There were a couple of phrases I felt I could have put more emotion into. One section where I wanted to play with my volume to see if it would have a different effect on the audience. But I’d felt comfortable in my role, and though it was fairly brief, I’d tried to make the most of it.

There were reporters backstage. I was asked a hundred questions. What it felt like. How it was up there. Nerves, ambitions, the entire process. “What will come next?” asked a young reporter with crisply cut hair and deep brown eyes.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess the rest of the week.”

“Perfect,” he said. “A girl who focuses on the goal at hand. Let them come to you.”

“I guess.”

He winked at me. “They will—don’t worry about that.”

Later, when the reporters were gone and I was in my dressing room removing my costume, wig and makeup, Denise popped in.

She grabbed my shoulders and leaned her chin on my head. “Truly brilliant,” she said. “I knew you were the right choice.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“It was close,” she said, letting go of me.

I didn’t reply. I was looking at her reflection in the mirror before me. “Crissy almost got the part?” I asked.

“The votes seemed to be going her way. Then it was tied with only one vote left. The final one was Clive’s.”

“The baritone?” I said.

“Yes.”

I thought back to the auditions and couldn’t remember seeing Clive there. In fact, I remembered Amanda looking for him just before the rehearsal that afternoon.

“I don’t remember him being there when I auditioned,” I said.

Denise winked at me. “That’s because he wasn’t.” She leaned in close. “Isabel can’t always get her way. When I discovered that Clive had been asked to be one of the judges, I told him the way the vote should go. He listens to me. We’ve been best of friends for a while now. He trusts my instincts.”

“So he only voted for me because you asked him to?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Hailey. It’s just the way things work. You
were
the better choice. Crissy is good, but she would have made it all about her. She would have turned into a mini Isabel. A micro diva. It’s better for her to be brought down from the beginning, before she causes herself harm. I could tell you would be able to handle it. And you have. You’re wonderful.” She gave me a quick pat on the head. “See you in the hall for the reception, okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

I sat there stunned for some time. I had assumed I’d won the part fairly. In fact, I’d assumed that only Isabel had voted for Crissy. I was totally wrong. It had been so close. I’d only received the final vote because of backstage politics.

I didn’t know what to do with this information. It felt awful to know. It felt…wrong. I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter. I had the part, and I was doing an incredible job. But it did matter.

It mattered a lot.

Fourteen

“H
as Crissy forgiven you?” Denise asked when we were off in a corner at the post-performance reception. My parents were going to take Sean and me for a late dinner. I wanted to soak in the opening-night glory, but I could barely make an appearance before leaving. The real party, I knew, would be on closing night.

“I don’t think there’s anything she needs to forgive me for,” I said.

“I guess I mean, has she accepted her role?”

“No, she certainly hasn’t.”

“That’s too bad for her,” she said.

“It is.”

“For both of you.”

“I guess,” I said.

“You’re hurt,” Denise said. I could see Sean watching me from the doorway. “It won’t always be like this.”

“It won’t?” I said hopefully.

“You’re going to lose friends. But you’re also going to find out who your true friends are.” She put an arm around my shoulders. I don’t know what happened—maybe it was the hugeness of the night—but I began to cry.

“Oh, sweetie.”

“I’m okay,” I said. Though, of course, I wasn’t. I felt awful. And then I got angry, because on the night when I should have felt better than ever before, I was sitting there crying over someone else’s bitterness. Crying over the fact that, yes, I had won the part, but in a way I’d never wanted to. Why did Denise have to tell me what had happened? Why did Crissy have to be the loser? Why did everything get so complicated and crappy right when it felt like my life was starting?

“It sucks,” Denise said. “It really, really sucks. But it’s not your fault. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You had a great night out there. You’re a star,” she said. “You have an exciting future ahead
of you. I can feel it. Don’t let anything or anyone change who you are, Hailey McEwan.” She spun me around and looked me in the eye. “You have a real talent. It’s going to make people jealous. But that isn’t your problem. It’s theirs.”

It felt even more horrible to hear this. Of course, it was true. I hated how the world seemed to revolve around competition. But audiences don’t want to see second place. They want the stars. The most talented.

The best.

* * *

At the restaurant, my parents heaped praise on me. And it felt great. All of it. It was one of the best days of my life. But I still kept seeing Crissy’s hurt face. Not because of something I’d done, but because of who I was and what I could be.