Angela Morrison - Sing Me to Sleep

Dang. I’m toast if it broke. I get down on my belly and start pulling crap out from under my bed so I can get to the phone. When I cleaned it up last week, I avoided under the bed. Actually, I shoved a bunch more dirty clothes, magazines, and random junk under it.

There’s my binder from the Choral Olympics. I was supposed to turn it in last week. I sit up, cross my legs, open the binder, and turn slowly through the music. I’ll miss them. Terri. Leah. Stupid Sarah. My altos who follow wherever I lead. I’ll even miss Meadow. They’re no longer just girls in the choir who barely speak to me. They are friends.

I never had girlfriends before. Normal girls at school wouldn’t ever have anything to do with me. And the other outcasts—the fat ones and mutants like me—kept to their own lone selves. Dumb. I know. I should have reached out, formed a powerful alliance of the forbidden, and taken over the whole school. It will be so hard to walk into the church Tuesday night and tell them I’m joining the Amabile Youth Singers.

I open the sheet music for “Take Me Home” and find two of Derek’s tissues with the imprint of his rose between the pages of my solo. I get up on my knees, find the flattened flower on my nightstand, breathe in its faint sweetness. Why can’t we go back? Spend our lives on that bench on the banks of Lake Geneva, watching the clouds drift past the Alps across the smooth blue sheet of water, discovering each other.

Those moments were magic. When I think back, it feels like I’m watching a play. It’s someone else crying on Derek’s chest, someone else singing that sexy pop duet with him, someone else kissing him good-bye in front of the bus, someone else watching him cough in the cold morning light as we rolled away.

He should be with that girl at Amabile. She knows her lines, has the stage business down. She won’t trip and take out all the scenery. She’ll bat her eyes and nod her head. “Yes, Derek. Of course, Derek. Whatever you want, Derek.”

He’s in love with her. Not me. I’m a shadow. Leftovers. Hungry and grasping—wanting more than he’s prepared to give. Afraid to give him what he wants.

It should be easy. Most guys would want my body and that’s it. Use me up and then split—like bio-Dad did to Mom. All Derek wants is to sing with me. He’s on an entirely different plane of existence. If this was about sex, it would be so much easier.

But that’s not what he wants.

He wants my soul.

chapter 24

CREEPY

I spend all day Sunday learning the AYS music. I sit down at the piano and pick out some of the trickier parts. Four of the pieces are on their old CDs that I’ve got uploaded on my iPod. I make myself a practice playlist and walk around school Monday and Tuesday with my headphones on. There’s a killer solo in one of the new pieces that I want.

I still haven’t told Mom what I’m doing. What if she doesn’t want me to quit Bliss? She’s clueless about the youth choir world. She doesn’t get how big an opportunity this is. I mean, I could be on one of those CDs. If I wasn’t so gutless, I’d be singing with them tonight instead of driving all the way down to Ann Arbor again. If I wasn’t so gutless, I’d get to see Derek again. We connected online last night for a few exchanges, and then he had to go, with a “good luck tomorrow night.” I’m going to need more than luck.

“Hey.” Scott bumps my arm as he sits down beside me in choir.

“Not today, please.”

He puts both hands up. “Excuse me.”

“Sorry. I’ve got a big decision to make tonight.”

“Don’t.”

“Honestly—is that all you ever think about?” I wiggle my butt over to the far side of my chair. “Did you ever think there could be more than one type of big decision in a relationship?”

“Good to hear.”

“The Amabile Youth Singers has offered me a place.” Why am I telling Scott? “I have to tell Terri tonight.”

“And you’re not sure?”

“No. I am. It’s an amazing opportunity and—”

“Derek’s making you.”

“No.”

“Then why is it a ‘big decision’?”

“You’re twisting what I said.”

“No. You’re denying what you said. Gee—” He rifles his hands through his hair. “Don’t let him control you like that. It’s creepy.”

“Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turn my shoulder to him and focus on the music we have to sing.

As I drive down to Ann Arbor, Scott’s words hum in the drone of the freeway. Creepy . A weird shiver hits me. I try to shake it off. I remind myself that this drive to Ann Arbor is ninety minutes—on a good day. London is a lot closer. And the drive is pretty. All those trees and fields. When the leaves turn this fall, it’ll be like driving through a postcard. And then I’ll get there and get to see Derek—on Fridays we’ll sing together half the night. Make out the rest of it. That makes me almost turn the car around and head for the bridge to Canada. He would be so happy if I called him and told him to meet after the AYS practice. I could be in his arms again tonight. I’ll go Thursday and tell Terri. No big deal.

Crap. I’ve gone too far south. I just passed the sign to Windsor. I’m a full two hours away from London. And the AYS start way early. If I try to change course, I’ll end up missing both.

I need to pull myself together. All I can think about is making out with Derek. It seems to drive my decisions more than anything else. How shallow is that?

I will do this—swallow my cowardice, misgivings, my craving to get behind Derek’s perfect facade to the trouble he refuses to share with me, and silence Scott’s voice saying— He doesn’t treat you, babe, like I do—

He doesn’t meet you babe, like me.

I’ ll be your rescue on the horizon,

Your prince on bended knee.

I’ ll climb your walls,

The dragons fall,

If you’ ll stay here, babe, with me.

He’s creepy, so creepy, stay with me.

You’re the beauty to my beast.

If we kiss, the spell will release.

It’s midnight, girl, the ball has passed,

Wake up, and you’ ll see

Whose love will last.

He’s creepy-

No, he’s not. Shut up, Scott. You can’t even sing.

I march into practice ready to tell the world I’m joining Amabile.

Terri is in the front with a smile bubbling from ear to shining ear. “Good, Beth. I didn’t want to make this announcement without you.”

I squeeze through the altos and take my seat next to Sarah. “What’s up?”

She shrugs her shoulders.

“Okay.” Terri takes a big breath and fans her face. She’s pink. Whoa. Maybe she’s met a guy. She’s getting married and leaving us. She’s going to introduce a new director that I will have absolutely no loyalty to. Bliss will fall apart without Terri. Lucky I’m leaving.

“Is everybody ready?”

“Get on with it.” Meadow echoes what we’re all thinking.

“I went to the mailbox this morning and look what I found.” Terri waves an off-white envelope in the air. “Any guesses?”

“No! ” we all shout back.

“Now, girls, girls, remember—your voices.” She slowly slides out a letter and shakes it open. “Dear Miss Bolton, Thank you for your grant application. The commission is impressed with Bliss Youth Singers’ achievement on the world stage and is delighted to approve your request.”

Grant? Whoopee. We’ll get new hair bows. I’m so glad I’m out of here.

Terri pauses, looks at all of us, and continues reading. “We look forward to hearing the CD you plan to produce.”