On Sunday afternoon I tell my parents that I’m going to the library, and then I bike to the school instead. I don’t want to tell anyone that I’m trying out for the choral group until I decide for sure that I want to do it.
It’s always weird being at school on a weekend. The hallways are empty and the lights are dim, but as I walk toward the music room, I can hear laughter and chattering. I stand outside the doorway for a moment, then take a breath and walk into the room. The chattering stops as everyone turns to look at me, and Ms. Kogawa, who’s stapling some papers at her desk, smiles and raises a hand in greeting.
“Gerri,” she says. “You decided to check us out. That’s great. Come on in.”
I grab a seat next to Bernice Sneed. Bernice is in my year at school, and Meg’s right about her being a hardcore music nerd. For as long as I can remember, Bernice has spent her summers at music camp and her weekends taking music lessons. I also recognize a plump smiling girl with short curly hair and a really tall kid who I’m pretty sure is in my brother’s class, but I don’t know either of their names. On the other side of the room a guy and a girl, both with whiteblond hair and bright blue eyes, sit with their backs against the wall. I’ve never seen them before, but they look so much alike, it’s obvious they’re related.
“Hey, Gerri,” says Bernice. “I didn’t know you were trying out for choral.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I say. “But I thought about it some more and figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it a chance.”
“It’s going to be fun,” she says. “Ms. Kogawa has been trying to get a choral group off the ground for a couple of years, but she couldn’t get enough people interested.”
Ms. Kogawa finishes her paperwork and comes around to sit on her desk.
“Okay,” she says cheerfully, clapping her hands together. “I was hoping we’d have at least five or six people, so this is great. Good stuff. How about we do a round of introductions?”
I learn that the blond kids, Macy and Davis, are twins and also that they’re homeschooled. They go to the same church as Ms. Kogawa, who tells us that they’ll be honorary students for choral-club purposes.
Tyler, the tall guy, is a senior who’s looking for an extracurricular besides track to help him get into his school of choice. The plump girl, Olive, is a year behind me in school and has been singing for years.
“I’m really just waiting to be old enough to try out for Big Time,” she says. “I figured this would be great experience.”
I notice a weird look flicker across Bernice’s face, and I start to feel self-conscious. I wonder what she’s heard about my failed audition.
“Let’s get down to business,” says Ms. Kogawa. She grabs a stack of papers from her desk and passes them around. I take a look at the stapled sheets she’s handed me, a bunch of sheet music. I start to get nervous. I don’t know how to read music. Granddad taught me to play a couple of simple chords on a guitar, but that’s about it.
“I’d like to start by getting a feel for who sings in what range,” she says. “Who wants to take a crack at piano?” I look around, surprised when Bernice, Olive and Macy all put their hands up to volunteer.
“Great,” says Ms. Kogawa. “I’m glad to learn that I don’t have a shy group. How about you do the honors today, Bernice? The rest of you, don’t worry—everyone will have a chance.”
I’m relieved when Tyler puts his hand up and asks the same thing that I’ve been thinking.
“Are we expected to be able to read music? ’Cause I don’t sight-read.”
“Who else doesn’t read music?” she asks. Only Tyler and I put up our hands, and I begin to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. She didn’t mention being able to read music when she told me about the choral group.
“That’s okay,” she says. “You don’t necessarily need to be able to do it to start off. It will help if you’re willing to put some time into at least learning the basics. We’ll always do a careful run-through of the various parts before we really dig into a new piece. If you’ve got a good ear, it should be no problem, and I’ll be happy to give the two of you some extra help to bring you up to speed in the meantime.”
Tyler glances over at me, and I can tell by the look on his face that he’s as skeptical as I am. I’m not about to stand up and leave in the middle of practice though, so I wait to see what happens.
“The songs I’ve handed out are just for practice,” Ms. Kogawa says. “Once we’re off and running, we’ll start to develop a set list and come up with some ideas for future performances.”
“Where will we be performing?” asks Bernice.
“There’s nothing lined up yet,” says Ms. Kogawa. “I wanted to make sure I could pull a group together before I started looking for venues.”
Our first song is a Broadway show tune. I don’t recognize the name, but as soon as Bernice plays the intro, I realize that I’ve actually heard it a million times, and although I wouldn’t know the words to save my life, the tune immediately pops into my head.
I soon discover that choral singing isn’t quite as simple as knowing a basic melody. The vocals are broken into four parts—bass, tenor, alto and soprano—and each of them has a separate melody line. Individually, they sound kind of funny, twisting up or down and away from the tune I’m familiar with, but it becomes clear when we sing the components together that the whole sounds better than the sum of its parts. It’s like when I harmonize with my granddad, but more formal.
It’s obvious when I think about it. I’ve never had a problem singing harmonies—they’ve just come naturally to me. Although I have no idea how to read sheet music, I start to think about how instinct can only take you so far. Seeing a simple melody broken apart and written down for multiple voices gives me a whole new perspective on how music works.
As Bernice leads us through the song on the piano, Ms. Kogawa writes our names on the board under the various vocal parts. It turns out that Tyler and Davis both sing tenor, Bernice and Macy are altos, and Olive and I are sopranos. I’ve always known my voice is in the high register, but it’s never occurred to me to think of myself as a soprano. It sounds really professional, although I sure don’t feel that way, especially compared to the rest of them, who’ve obviously been taking music lessons forever.
To my surprise, things actually start to come together pretty quickly. I’ve always had an easy time catching on to a tune, and this is really no different. Olive and I run through our part a couple of times, and once everyone else has had the chance to do the same with their parts, we try doing it together. It doesn’t sound perfect, and there are a couple of places where I lose the melody and have to stop for a second before I can pick it up again, but it sounds better than I would have expected. It’s amazing to think that music can be approached this way, like a puzzle that has a correct solution.
“I think that’s great for today, guys,” says Ms. Kogawa once we’ve run through the song a few times. “We’ll have to do our best to find a guy or two to sing bass, but other than that, it sounded really good. I’m happy to say that I think everyone is going to fit into the group.”
It’s been so much fun working out the details of the song, I’ve completely forgotten that this is actually an audition. I’m surprised to find that I’m excited to hear I’ve made the cut—for now, at least. Maybe my parents were right about throwing myself into music and improving through hard work. Maybe it won’t be that bad after all, although I can only imagine what Meg will say when she hears.
“You were really good on piano,” I say to Bernice as we’re putting on our coats. She looks at me as if she’s surprised.
“What, you mean today?” she asks. “Thanks, but that’s nothing. I’ve got a background in piano. I’ve been playing since I was four. This was just plunking out the melody line.”
“Gerri and Tyler, do you mind sticking around for a minute?” Ms. Kogawa asks. We hold back as everyone else leaves. When they’ve cleared out, she comes around to sit on the front of her desk. “You guys did a really good job today. It isn’t always easy to keep up when everyone else has some theory and is able to read music. That said, I do think you could both benefit from a bit of extra training. Are you able to come by here for, say, a half hour or so on Tuesdays after school for the next few weeks?”
“Works for me,” says Tyler.
“Yeah,” I say. “I can do that.”
“Good,” she says. “It’ll be fun to see where we end up over the next little while.”