The next day is the first day of practice with my new team. When I arrive in the rehearsal room, a cameraman is setting up his equipment, preparing to film my every move. My teammates file in shortly after me. Two of them are the punk duo I saw yesterday: Delia and Casey. From the instant they arrive, they squabble with each other to get the camera’s attention. Our other teammate is Lark, the partner of Asher the cowboy. She sits down and folds her hands in her lap patiently.
Finally, Cassandra drifts into the room. “Good morning, team,” she says. Then she explains the plan for the day. Each of us will sing for her to show our strengths and weaknesses. Then she will know how to coach us, to bring each of us to our full potential. She looks at me and says I will be going first.
Cassandra sits in front of me and leans in close to study my mouth as I sing. At the same time, the cameraman shoves the camera way too close to my face. I want to push it away, but instead I clear my throat and sing a scale.
“Give me more power this time,” Cassandra says. “Blow me away with your voice. I want to fall backward.”
I try again, but she interrupts me before I’ve done half the scale.
“No, my dear. Not strong enough! Where is your passion? Where is your heart? Put it all in your voice!”
I try again and again. But each time Cassandra shakes her head, crosses her arms, and sighs. A huge wave of disappointment washes over me. My idol chose me, and I’m letting her down. But I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I don’t know how to be more passionate. I thought I loved making music, but Cassandra seems to think something’s holding me back. I wish Ryan were here to encourage me.
The punk duo, Casey and Delia, take turns after me. They sound like they’re yelling instead of singing. But Cassandra doesn’t ask where their passion is. She nods at them.
Now it’s Lark’s turn. Her voice rings out like notes from a piano, from the deepest deep to the highest high. I’m instantly entranced. This girl knows her stuff. It’s beautiful and clear—maybe even better than Cassandra’s voice. Even the punks’ mouths hang open.
“That was gorgeous,” Cassandra says when Lark finishes. “Where did you learn to sing?”
“I grew up singing in choir,” Lark replies. “So did Asher. We’ve been partners for years.”
“How do you feel about being on a different team than him?”
“It feels . . .” Lark trails off. The camera leans in close to her. Then she says, “Freeing. I feel free to be myself.”
She and I make eye contact. I frown, confused as to how she could feel that way. Good partners should bring out the best in each other, I think to myself.
***
The next day, Cassandra leads us through writing our own rock song together to perform in the first elimination round. If we win, we get a special advantage for the next round. But if we lose, then one of us is going home. As we work, the punk duo argues over whether we should use the word “heart” or “start” to rhyme with “chart.”
Lark moves next to me and together we write our own verses. She looks over my writing and hums to herself. I raise my eyebrows at her, giving her a questioning look. “You’re a good singer,” she says. “But you need to step out of your comfort zone. That’s what Cassandra means by passion.”
“Thanks,” I murmur. “I didn’t really understand her. I was getting a bit frustrated.”
“Yeah, this competition is stressful.” She grins at me, looking as beautiful as her voice.
After a while, the punks manage to scrape something together. Their lyrics are actually pretty good. We compare notebooks and choose the best lines that each of us wrote to create a final draft of a song. Then we show it to Cassandra.
She looks over what we have. “Team, I think we are ready for the first challenge. How do you feel about singing together as a band, in front of a live audience?”
The cameras pan over the punks’ excited faces, Lark’s small smile, and my nervous shivering. Then the crew wraps filming. Tomorrow is the first elimination round.