Keith and I meet for coffee after school the next day, at a place downtown called Human Bean. I’ve never been there before. It’s really cool. There’s colorful oversized artwork hanging on the exposed brick walls, funky old furniture and a raised stage at the back.
I get there first and order a chai latte, then grab a table in the corner and try to figure out how to bring up choral club with Keith. I haven’t mentioned anything to Ms. Kogawa about the possibility of him joining us, because I honestly have no idea what he’ll think of it. In the meantime, I need to figure out how to explain it to him.
I don’t have much time to think about it, because he shows up shortly after my drink arrives. He’s got his guitar slung across his back, and he orders a coffee before scanning the café. I catch his eye, and he waves and heads to the table.
“Hey, Gerri!” he says, carefully placing his coffee on the table before leaning the guitar in the corner.
“You take your guitar everywhere, don’t you?” I ask.
“Pretty much,” he says. “I do some busking, and I’m in a couple of groups with some people from school. Nothing serious, but we try to practice at school during lunch hour and stuff. Lately I’ve been trying to hit up open mics with some of those guys.”
“Wow,” I say. “You’re busy.”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “Music’s everything. I try to play as much as I can.”
I turn to glance at the stage in the corner of the coffee shop. “Is this one of the places where you do open mic?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Human Bean is pretty cool, hey? The owners are really great. They love to give local musicians a place to play.”
“That’s great,” I say. I’m beginning to think that Keith’s scene is a lot cooler than anything I have to offer. A choral group at another school is probably the last thing he’s interested in.
“So what did you want to ask me?” he says.
“Oh, it seems kind of stupid now,” I say.
“Try me,” he says.
“I’m in a choral club, at my school,” I say.
“Cool,” he says. “You mean like multiple harmonies, a cappella stuff?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m a soprano. It’s kind of a new thing for me. Anyway, we need a guy who can sing bass, and I know you have a deep voice and all, and I was watching your videos and…”
“I’d love to, if I have time,” he says. “That sounds awesome.”
“What?” I say. “I haven’t even asked you anything yet.”
“You’re wondering if I’ll try out for your choral group, right? I think it sounds cool.”
“Are you serious?” I ask him.
“Totally,” he says. “I told you, I love music. Any chance I have to try something new, bring it on. I don’t have a lot of experience singing with other people, and this sounds like it would be a great way to learn.”
I’m so surprised he’s up for it that I don’t really know what to say. “We practice on Sundays,” I say. “We don’t even have any performances lined up or anything. Right now we’re just doing show tunes and stuff. You might not like it.”
He laughs. “Are you trying to convince me not to do it? At least let me give it a shot before you talk me out of it.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m just surprised that you agreed to do it.”
“You know,” he says, “the group could do a performance here sometime. Open mic means open to anyone who wants to get up and do a song or two.”
“Really?” I say. “Don’t you think that kind of thing might not, I don’t know, fit in?”
“You’d be surprised,” he says. “Pretty much any kind of musical act you can imagine plays here for open mic. On one of the nights I played with my friends, there was an old-time banjo player and later an opera singer did an aria. The variety is what makes it fun.”
I’ve never imagined that singing in choral could lead to performances in places like this. I’d kind of expected we’d be more likely to sing at school assemblies and ribbon-cutting ceremonies.
“You should mention that to Ms. Kogawa,” I tell him. “She’s the choir director.”
“So what made you join choral?” he asks.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I tell him. “I was pretty bummed out when I got rejected by Big Time, and I was thinking that I’d never try out again, and then Ms. Kogawa asked if I wanted to join. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I could actually learn something and be better prepared for my audition next year.”
“So you think you’ll go back and try out again?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve wanted to be on Big Time for years. If I can be better prepared next time, why not? Won’t you? Try out again, I mean.”
“I doubt it,” he says. “I wasn’t doing it for the show. Not really. I don’t really care about Big Time. I just like to try out any new opportunity to play and perform.” He shrugs. “It was just one more place to sing.”
I tell Ms. Kogawa about Keith on Tuesday when Tyler and I are in her class for extra help.
“That’s wonderful, Gerri!” she says. “I’ve been a bit worried that we’d have to go the whole year without a bass. You say this guy is musical?”
“Yeah, he plays a few instruments, and he writes his own stuff too. He’s going to come to rehearsal on Sunday.”
“That’s just great,” she says. “Speaking of writing, have either of you had a chance to think about our mashup?”
“I haven’t had time,” says Tyler. “Between school, chorus and track, I’m too busy as it is. Besides, I’m sure the musical wonder will figure something out.”
I smile. Musical wonder—that’s good.
“Who is the musical wonder?” asks Ms. Kogawa.
“Come on,” says Tyler. “Bernice. She’s way better than us.”
“I don’t think so at all,” she says. “Bernice is very talented, but so are both of you. So is everyone.”
Tyler just shrugs. “I guess so.”
Ms. Kogawa looks at me. “Have you thought about performance pieces?” she asks.
“Not really,” I say. “I don’t really understand how it works.” That’s not entirely true. I’ve been playing around with different songs in my head since Sunday, and I’ve actually had a couple of ideas of some tunes that would blend well together. I’m not confident enough to suggest them though. I don’t understand music theory, and I’m only barely starting to understand how to read music. I’m pretty sure that any idea I bring up will have something wrong with it. I’m with Tyler—let the musical wonder figure it out.
“Suit yourselves,” says Ms. Kogawa, “but I don’t think either of you should refrain from bringing ideas to the group. That’s half the fun. But it’s clear that neither of you are totally comfortable with reading music yet, so maybe when you’ve progressed a bit you’ll be more willing to add your suggestions to the mix.”
We spend almost an hour doing more sightreading, and by the end of the class she seems happy with our progress. I might not be as far along as I’d like to be, but I’m on the way, and it feels good.