Are you sure?” Gigi squints at me, a lot like Fred the cat, while we’re waiting to audition.
“Positive. My mom thought it was great.”
“Like that’s relevant.”
Actually, what my mother—to whom I’m not currently speaking since the Arnold conversation—said was that the song I’d chosen was “a lot quieter than your usual stuff.”
Gigi looks around at the growing group in the auditorium. “Rowena probably has copies of your regular music—I mean, if you change your mind at the last minute.”
“I’m not changing my mind. Why do you care so much what I sing?”
“You’re good at the opera stuff, Cait. Besides, I want you to get picked for the show because when—if—I get picked, we can go to practice together.”
I look at her. Her hair’s still pink, and if any of my old friends met her, they wouldn’t understand why I hang with her. But I have this big urge to hug her. Instead, I say, “Don’t worry. Maybe I’ll surprise you.”
“Hope so.”
The accompanist starts playing the opening bars of “Good Morning, Baltimore.” I may puke. I may actually puke right here, in front of a roomful of people. What is wrong with me? What was I thinking? I want to run. Hide, even.
But I start the first lines:
Oh, oh, oh, woke up today
Feeling the way I always do.
Oh, oh, oh, hungry for something that I can’t eat
Then I hear the beat.
I look at the faces in the audience. They’re frozen in fake smiles, sort of like in that one Batman movie when the Joker put chemicals in people’s makeup that made them all look like him.
For the first time, I realize that:
1. The song requires a Broadway-belt voice, which I don’t have.
2. The song requires me to move around (i.e., dance).
3. The girl who sang the song on Broadway was obese, wearing a bad wig and a hilarious costume. And, even though I feel that way sometimes, I don’t actually weigh three hundred pounds.
I stare out at the audience—the people I’ve been trying soooo hard to impress the past few weeks—and for a minute, I wish I was really fat or ugly because that would give me a place to hide. They wouldn’t laugh at me for being stupid and untalented then. They’d just ignore me like people ignore fatgirls. Being heavy makes it so much easier to sink through the floor.
I make an attempt at moving my feet and see Gigi bury her face in her hand.
I am such an idiot.
When I sit down, Gigi says, too quickly, “It wasn’t that bad. It was good.”
“Wow, I must have really sucked if you’re lying to me like this.”
Gigi shrugs. “It’s over.”
Behind me, Rex says, “I liked when you sang that opera thing better. You rocked at that.”
I turn to look at him. I can’t believe he said that. I can’t believe anyone thought I rocked at anything.
“Yeah, I thought you did better with the opera too,” another voice says.
It’s Misty, sitting by Sean, her arm locked in his. That’s when I realize she tricked me. She talked me into singing something I’d look stupid singing, so I wouldn’t be any competition for her. She must have thought I rocked at opera too.
I start to say something, but then I accept: I only have myself to blame.
Opera_Grrrl’s Online Journal
Subject: Unsurprisingly
Date: September 21
Time: 7:00 p.m.
Listening 2: Mad scene from Anna Bolena
Feeling: Miserable
Weight: 117 lbs. (and eating more cookies as I type this)
Don’t ask, OK? OK, I tanked. They could go 2 battle w/how bad I tanked. The problem is, everything I sing sounds like opera. And when you sing rock w/an opera girl voice it’s ....... comical. 
The upside: I’ll have a lot of free time since I’m not in the show. I can work on .... um, my relationship w/Mom. Oh, and she’ll be happy. She was already talking about rehearsals being 2 late before I even started @ the school.
The other upside: Misty wasn’t very good either.
Gigi rocked, of course. I tried 2 look happy for her, but I kept thinking about what she said about wanting both of us 2 make it. She’ll probably find other friends now that I’m not in the show.
Mom’s out on a date w/her married boyfriend, Arnold. She started bringing him home sometimes, but he always leaves by 10. Bet he tells his wife he’s working late and she feels bad he has 2 work so hard. Boo-hoo. Wonder if he has kids.