“We’ll do our favorite song,” Jess told Chloe while walking to school on Monday morning. She hadn’t had any problems with her mom. She let Jess do whatever she liked. “I hope Mr. Watkins has a good karaoke machine. Let’s run. If we’re quick, we can go and see him before first period!”
But Mr. Watkins didn’t have any sort of karaoke machine in the music department, and Jess was appalled. “It’ll sound terrible!” she muttered to Chloe when it was obvious he expected them to perform with him playing the piano. He wouldn’t let them make a recording together either.
“You can’t apply as a duo,” he told them. “Rockley Park wants to hear individuals, not groups. Now, who’s going to go first?”
“Me!” Jess stepped forward. After a few attempts, Mr. Watkins could play the song well enough for Jess to sing along. She was letter-perfect, but couldn’t stop giggling. They had to go through it several times before they got a good recording.
Chloe watched and listened carefully. It wasn’t exactly terrible with the piano, but neither was it very professional. Jess was doing all the moves really well, as if she were onstage, but she wasn’t being filmed, so none of the dancing would count. It was scary. Chloe’s only chance was to get every part of the performance onto the recording. But how was she supposed to do that? If only it was a video. But they were in their school uniforms, so that wouldn’t work either. It was agony, trying to think how to do it. It was much worse than the audition for Bugsy.
“Right, Chloe. Your turn.” In a daze, Chloe took Jess’s place next to the piano. “Are you sure you want to sing the same song?” asked Mr. Watkins. Chloe wasn’t sure about anything. She tried to think herself into her bedroom mirror, where her audience waited. Jess was nodding at her furiously.
“Yes,” she said. She sang it without the movements she and Jess had practiced in her room. She knew she sang it too quietly, but she couldn’t help that. She imagined herself giving it the full treatment and hoped some of that emotion would come through.
“Well done,” said Mr. Watkins. “Now, do you mind singing some scales as well? It’s important to show what you can do, and that song doesn’t show off your range.”
“What’s ‘range’?” she asked. Jess was giggling again, but Chloe ignored her. Mr. Watkins was a music teacher after all. He might know what was best.
“It’s how high and how low you can comfortably sing,” he explained. “Some people are good at going very high or quite low, but your voice is unusual because you can do both. You can sing the high notes and lots of low notes, too.”
He told Chloe to concentrate on hitting each note as accurately as she could. He made her do them tons of times, and they got the recording finished just before the bell rang for first period.
“I don’t know why you agreed to do those scales,” Jess grumbled as they raced off to English. “You want to be a pop singer, not some silly opera person. If you’re not careful, you’ll get chosen for the wrong thing.” She was a bit miffed because Mr. Watkins hadn’t asked her to sing any scales. Even so, Chloe was concerned that Jess might be right.
Mr. Watkins promised to send the recordings and application forms to Rockley Park right away. So all they could do now was wait. But waiting was awful, however much they concentrated on the Bugsy rehearsals. Learning dances for the musical as well as the songs was a good laugh. And they were going to get real costumes. But nothing, absolutely nothing, took away the agony of waiting.
“Who else applied for a the scholarships?” Chloe asked Jess for the hundredth time.
“I don’t know,” her friend snapped, rolling off Chloe’s bed and checking her hair in the mirror. “Mr. Watkins wouldn’t tell us, would he?”
“I bet that girl from the high school has applied,” Chloe fretted. “You know, the one who played the saxophone in assembly last week. She was amazing. It’s not just singers they’re looking for either. We don’t stand a chance against someone like her.”
“There was a rumor going round that a twelfth-grade boy applied,” Jess said.
“Isn’t he supposed to be in a rock band?” Chloe asked. “I think he might be the one with long black hair. Darren something.”
“That’s right,” Jess agreed, rummaging among Chloe’s hairbands. “I think he plays lead guitar.” They looked at each other dejectedly. How could they possibly compete with someone who already played guitar in a rock band? All they did was play around in Chloe’s bedroom.
“What clothes do you think they wear at Rockley Park?” Jess asked, trying to keep their spirits up. But Chloe didn’t have the heart for it anymore. She could feel her Big Chance slipping away from her, each day that went by.
Why hadn’t they heard? Had Rockley Park lost the recordings? Did they reply only to people who had won scholarships? That would be too cruel. Worst of all, how could she bear it if Jess got in and she didn’t?
Chloe knew she should forget all about it and get on with her life. After all, she was in Bugsy, wasn’t she? And Mr. Watkins had given her not one, but two whole lines to sing solo. A couple of weeks ago she had been thrilled about that; now it seemed meaningless compared to getting into Rockley Park.
Chloe joined Jess and they stared into the mirror together. Jess pulled a face at Chloe’s miserable expression. She reached a finger to Chloe’s reflected mouth and drew a smeary smile onto the glass.
“Come on,” she said. “It’s not that bad.” But it was that bad. Chloe knew she would die if she didn’t get in.