Chapter
10:
Every Little Thing That You Have Said
And Done Feels Like It’s Deep Within Me
The day I returned
to school, I learned that our ensemble’s performance had been delayed a couple
days so that Brian, Nick and Kevin didn’t have to pull a trio. I felt bad that I had caused it to be put
off, but knew that there was no way around it.
I had to be with Alex.
All the same, I
regretted coming to school and wished that I could have performed over the
phone. It would’ve saved me a ton of
sympathetic looks and blunt questions that I wasn’t ready to deal with.
Mr. J was really
cool about everything. He was real easy
on the four of us, but especially on me.
But Kevin seemed like he was back in the position as our unofficial
leader, and he decided that we owed it to Alex to give our best
performance. He was unaware that Brian,
Nick and I had given our all to Alex in a stuffy classroom, as he lay bleeding
from a gunshot wound. None of us were
ready to share that with anyone yet.
The four of us
stood in a semi-circle in front of the class, watching Brian for our cue. The beginning was shaky, and we never really
got back with it. I was singing in the
wrong key half the time, Brian forgot his lyrics and Kevin was just all over
the place, but Nick was right on.
Apparently, even
though Kevin didn’t absorb much of his own pep talk, Nicky did, quite a
bit. But all of us were at a stand still
when we came to Alex’s verse. No one
felt comfortable singing it. In addition
to being on in the harmonies, Nick also turned out to think great on his feet. He told the audience simply, “This is where
Alex sings,” and then launched into his own solo. It went off without a hitch and I was so proud
of him.
I was walking back
to my seat, and everyone started asking me all kinds of stuff. I didn’t feel ready to answer anything. And all of a sudden, I was remembering my
first hour in Acting II.
Brian and I were both scared out of
our minds to go back in that class, but attendance was mandatory in there so we
had to go. School was closed the day
before, but that’s it. Now we were right
back in it.
I stared, incredulous, at the
room. In addition to the absence of Alex
(which made the room seem totally empty) there were the changes in the
appearance of the room, and the total atmosphere of class.
The blood had been cleaned off the
desks, but the spot on the carpet would not be able to be fixed. A large section of it had been torn out—the
spot where Alex had last been. The
class, which was usually pretty talkative and full of kids going out on a limb
and seeing how far they could push their own limits, was now almost
silent. School counselors took over our
instructor’s position for the day. If I
thought that the questions from peers were hard to take, it was twenty times
harder to take the onslaught of obvious questions from the counselors, who
tried to get me to “open up” and share how I felt.
There was no way I was going to share
this experience with some strange people I never met before. The only people who needed to know how it was
were there with me. Beyond that, these
counselors could be curious forever for all I cared.
I snapped back to
attention, when I heard the choir start up on solfege. I wanted more than anything to hear Alex in
the chorus of voices, singing every pitch on the same shrill note.
I wanted to do it
again for Alex.
***
