The next weekend, Lizzie climbed into the car with her dad for her singing lesson. Though she was dreading the lessons less, they were still something she HAD to do, so she wasn’t exactly excited. And she still felt pretty down about her sister and her friends. For the first time ever, she felt disconnected from people. And the angry feeling hadn’t gone away.
Not to mention, after her singing lesson, Operation Tad and Gloria was all set to go.
Her dad pulled up to the building and Lizzie jumped out. Her dad said, “Have fun, my little songbird!”
Lizzie smiled a little and walked to the building and into room 128. Mr. Samson sat by the piano, playing a happy tune. He stopped when Lizzie stepped in.
“Well, hello, Ms. Lizzie! How’s my favorite Halloween-lover?” he said.
For the first time in a week, Lizzie smiled a big, genuine smile. “I’m fine,” she said, taking off her coat and setting it on a nearby chair. She also felt nervous about the possibility of having to sing again, but Mr. Samson was so nice, the nerves really weren’t that big this time.
His eyes twinkled. “I have an idea today—I have some Halloween music we can listen to. Want to do that?”
Lizzie brightened. “Yeah! I didn’t even know there was Halloween music.”
“Oh, yeah! I mean, there are the standards: ‘Monster Mash,’ ‘Werewolves of London,’ et cetera. But there are some others that might not be EXACTLY about Halloween but have some scary elements. Should we listen to some songs?”
Lizzie nodded and Mr. Samson went to the far wall and brought out what looked like a CD player. Her parents had one of those, but she didn’t even know if it worked.
He plugged it in and put in a CD. “Okay, here’s ‘Monster Mash.’ ”
Lizzie giggled. She loved this song. She’d forgotten it even existed.
Halfway through, Mr. Samson started doing a Monster Mash dance. This made Lizzie giggle even harder. He beckoned her over. “Come on, do the Monster Mash!”
Lizzie couldn’t help it, she joined in the dancing—after all, she’d just danced in her room, so why not here? Mr. Samson had already been goofy, and she could be too. While they danced, Mr. Samson started singing the low parts. The lyrics said, “He did the Mash,” and Mr. Samson would join in, “He did the MONSTER Mash.” Lizzie loved his voice.
When the song ended, they were both a little out of breath and Lizzie felt happier than she had in a long time.
“I have the perfect next song too,” Mr. Samson said. He switched CDs and a song that Lizzie had heard before but couldn’t remember the name of came on.
“This is ‘Thriller’ by Michael Jackson. Have you heard this?”
Lizzie nodded. “Yes, but it was a long time ago.”
“Well, this one has a complicated dance to it. Want to learn it?” Mr. Samson asked.
Lizzie nodded again. She didn’t say it, but she felt like she was learning more about dancing than singing at her singing lesson. But she didn’t care. This was way more fun.
Mr. Samson started teaching her the dance. They would take a few steps forward and then put their hands up in the shape of claws and move them from side to side. Lizzie had started giggling again. Mr. Samson started singing the chorus. “Thrilllerrrrr . . . Thriller night.”
Before Lizzie even thought about it, she joined in singing the chorus too. Those were the only words she knew, and it was so fun, she couldn’t help herself, even if it was in front of someone else.
When the song was over, both Lizzie and Mr. Samson collapsed in laughter.
“That was so fun!” Lizzie said, panting just a little.
“It was! I thought you might like these songs,” Mr. Samson said. He changed out the CD and put another one in. “And your voice is just beautiful.”
Lizzie started. She hadn’t been sure he’d even heard her. But nevertheless, Mr. Samson’s words made her feel really good.
The thing was, Lizzie had sort of suspected she had a pretty good voice. She loved to sing alone, and ages ago she even sang karaoke with Gloria. But she’d never even admitted to herself that she had a good voice, let alone said it out loud. The thought of saying that or believing it, and singing in front of people who were staring at her, made her positively quake inside.
The next song Mr. Samson put in was one called “I Want Candy.” Lizzie found herself bopping her head along to the beat. Mr. Samson said, “This one doesn’t have a dance. But we can dance to it anyway!” So they both moved around and shook their arms and their hips, doing silly moves and laughing. By the end of the song, they were both yell-singing the chorus.
When it was over, Mr. Samson sat at the piano bench and caught his breath. “I’m afraid you’re a bit younger than me, my dear. I need to take a break.”
Lizzie nodded and sat down too, feeling all the happy energy drain away. She’d forgotten her troubles during the dancing, but now she felt them settle around her shoulders again. Mr. Samson looked at her. “Is there something wrong, Lizzie?”
She frowned and looked down. “I . . . ,” she started. Mr. Samson just looked at her, waiting for her to speak.
“Sometimes I feel like my friends don’t listen to me. Or my parents. Or my sister,” she finally said.
Mr. Samson nodded but didn’t say anything.
Lizzie said, “I mean, I’m sorry. Everyone in my life is really nice. But sometimes they just sort of talk over me.”
“That’s not a good feeling,” Mr. Samson said.
“I end up doing things I don’t really want to do. I know I should say no, but I can’t seem to . . .” Lizzie couldn’t find the right words.
“Find the right words?” Mr. Samson said, smiling.
Lizzie sighed and laughed. “Yeah,” she said.
“Hmm. Sometimes being the person who sees things or is sensitive can feel lonely.”
To her horror, Lizzie felt tears in her eyes. She just nodded.
Mr. Samson slapped his hands on his knees. “Well, I love sensitive people, personally. I myself am one. It can be hard, but that means we can hear the music that no one else can sometimes.” He winked at her. “Speaking of, want to hear another song? This one is called ‘Zombie.’ It’s a little different from the others. It’s not really a Halloween song, but I thought you might like it. Shall we listen?”
Lizzie sniffed and nodded again and Mr. Samson put the song in. It was different from the others. It was dark and somber, and there were lots of words about fighting and wars in it. Lizzie felt a stirring in her chest when she heard the song—something about it made her feel something big.
“Do you want to try to sing the chorus?” Mr. Samson asked.
Lizzie said, “Yes,” right away, without even thinking. Mr. Samson brought out the lyrics. “I’ll sing with you to start.” He pressed Play on the CD player.
At first, Lizzie felt really self-conscious. But because Mr. Samson was singing too and not looking at her, she loosened up. And the song was so satisfying to sing—she felt it all the way in her gut somehow.
When the song was over, Mr. Samson said, “Wow, Lizzie. That beautiful voice of yours. What a treasure to hear.”
Lizzie smiled and swallowed.
“Let’s try this again. One thing: try to feel the song right here.” He pointed to a place right in the middle of his stomach. “This is the diaphragm. See if you can feel the notes coming from here. It helps you to be heard.”
Lizzie nodded, and when the song started again, she really tried to feel the words in her stomach. Sometimes she could, but most of the time she couldn’t. Still, Mr. Samson smiled at her with encouragement and they sang the song over and over again.
Before she knew it, the lesson was over. As she put on her coat, she realized her skin was buzzing. Her head felt light and she felt like she’d run a marathon, but she also felt just perfect.
She turned to walk out and then turned around. “Thank you, Mr. Samson,” she said, meaning it with all her heart.
He winked again. “You bet. I’ll see you next week, you amazing singer, you.”
Lizzie walked out the door smiling.