No one could stay as strung out as Chloe was and keep going. However much she willed good news to arrive, even she started to let go of the dream a little. Life got in the way, and she was busy, what with schoolwork and Bugsy and looking forward to semester break. So when the letter finally did arrive, she wasn’t ready for it.
One afternoon she came home from school late because of a Bugsy rehearsal. She was pleased but surprised to see her dad there in the kitchen, drinking tea with Mom. He was hardly ever home early.
“Come and sit down,” Mom said, once Chloe had hung up her coat.
“But I’ve got masses of homework,” Chloe objected. “And I want to watch TV later.”
She didn’t get it, even though her dad was there and her mom was giving her funny looks. Chloe was thinking more about her favorite TV show than about what Mom and Dad might want.
“Sit down for a moment,” Dad said, patting a kitchen chair. “We’ve got something to talk about.” He picked up the letter that was lying on the table.
Chloe dumped her bag on the floor. For a fleeting moment she wondered if she’d done something really wrong at school and if her homeroom teacher had written to complain. She couldn’t think of anything, but her parents were acting so oddly. There must be something wrong. Ben was there, playing on the floor, so it couldn’t have anything to do with him. Her brain insisted on working at half speed, even when she noticed the letter in her dad’s hand. Slowly it dawned on her. It must be the letter. The one she’d almost-but-not-quite given up on. Time stood still.
It was important not to be upset in front of them. She had promised not to let it bother her.
“It’s all right,” she gabbled, trying not to feel anything. “I don’t mind. I won’t be miserable. Honestly.”
“You’d better read it,” said Mom quietly.
“Well, go on,” insisted Dad, holding it out. Chloe didn’t want to. What was the point? But she had to take it, and slide the thick expensive paper out of its envelope.
Rockley Park School would like your daughter Chloe Tompkins to attend an interview and audition on September 21 at 2 P.M.. . .
She couldn’t get any further. Her eyes kept going over the same sentence again and again.
“It doesn’t mean you have to go,” said Dad.
Chloe looked up. “What do you mean?” She put the wild imaginings running through her head to one side. “I’ve got an interview and audition. I have to go. You can’t stop me.”
“We don’t know anything about this place, Chloe,” said Mom. “What is the standard of teaching like? Do they teach any practical subjects, or is it all pop nonsense? And it’s a boarding school. You couldn’t come home every day and tell us all your troubles. What if you were unhappy?”
Chloe couldn’t believe how unfair they were being.
“Why did you let me apply if you thought it was such an awful place?” she demanded. Her dad looked embarrassed.
“To be honest, love, we didn’t think you’d get an audition. It never occurred to us that you would.”
“Well, I showed you, then, didn’t I!” She was angry, really angry. How dare they assume she was no good? She’d gotten an interview, and an audition!
“I’m sorry,” said Mom, “but education is important.” She tried to give Chloe a hug, but Chloe shrugged her off.
“You can’t stop me from going,” she said. “I’ve earned that audition, all by myself. You should be proud of me.” She almost let out a sob at that, but held up her head and bit it back.
“Oh, Chloe.” Her dad sighed. “We are proud of you. We’re just worried. We don’t know anything about this sort of thing.”
Chloe could see that they’d never say yes unless they found out more about the school.
“Go and see Mr. Watkins,” Chloe told them, determined not to give up. “He’s still at school figuring out one of the solos for Bugsy. He’ll tell you. He knows all about it. I think he’s even been there once!” She willed them to agree. “Please.”
Dad looked at Mom. “We can’t interrupt him in the middle of rehearsals,” he said doubtfully.
Chloe looked at her watch. “He’ll be finished in half an hour. We can go then.” She tried to sound serious and sensible.
Mom sighed. “Mrs. Robbins might be able to look after Ben,” she said. “I’ll go and ask her.” She got up and went next door. Chloe could feel herself starting to fizz with excitement and fought the feeling down. Surely Mr. Watkins would be on her side?
They caught the music teacher at the end of rehearsals. He took them into his tiny office and found chairs for her parents while Chloe leaned awkwardly against a shelf piled high with books and papers.
“Rockley Park is an excellent school,” Mr. Watkins told them, once he’d congratulated Chloe. “The children work very hard because they have to fit in the extra classes in singing, dance, songwriting, and music technology among a full schedule of standard subjects. It’s by no means an easy option. Why don’t you take the prospectus and see what you think?” He handed a glossy brochure to Chloe’s mom with WELCOME TO ROCKLEY PARK SCHOOL FOR THE PERFORMING ARTS on the cover.
“What do you think the school saw in Chloe?” asked Dad.
“Well. . .” Mr. Watkins smiled. “I suspect it was her range.” Chloe hugged the information to herself. Those scales had been worth it after all. “She has quite an unusual voice,” he went on. “It’s not particularly strong, but training would help with that. She’s got excellent pitch, and can sing an amazing range of notes. I should think that’s what interested them. If it’s what she wants to do, this is a fantastic opportunity for her,” he added.
“It’s what I really, really want,” Chloe assured everyone. Mr. Watkins laughed.
“There you go, a girl with real ambition and determination!” he said. “And she’ll need every bit of it if she goes into the music industry! My advice,” he went on more soberly, “is to go along when she has her interview and see for yourselves. I went to a concert there last year and was most impressed with the whole setup.”
“Is there anything in particular she should do before she goes?” asked Dad. Chloe’s heart gave a great leap in her chest.
Yes! Dad’s going to let me do it!
“Come and practice every lunchtime before you go,” he said. “You need to be as polished as possible for the audition.”
Chloe nodded excitedly. Then she remembered Jess. “Who else got an interview?” she asked anxiously.
Mr. Watkins smiled. “I have the list here,” he said. “There are a few other children going, but only one other person in your grade has been called for audition.”
Chloe breathed out a huge, triumphant breath. It was better than she could ever have hoped for. It was going to be just as they had planned.
“The other person,” she blurted out, her eyes shining with pleasure and excitement. “It’s Jess, isn’t it!”