Big Time Page 4

  “That’s more like it!” he says. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “It was fun,” I agree.

  “Music sure helped me get out of that funk,” he says. “Far as I’m concerned, it’s pretty much the best way we’ve got to express ourselves. Helps us feel better when we’re feeling down, and it helps us bring a little bit of happiness into other people’s lives when we’re feeling good. One thing it should never be is an excuse for people to judge one another. There’s plenty of other reasons to do that without dragging music into the mix.”

  Two old ladies walk up the steps from the garden and come over to us.

  “Oh, wonderful,” says one of them. “Nelson has his guitar out!”

  “Ladies,” says Granddad, “this is my granddaughter, Gerri. Gerri, this is Dina and Lucille.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gerri,” says Dina. “Your grandfather talks about you all the time. Says you’ve got quite a lovely singing voice.”

  I laugh. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “Come on, Nelson,” says Lucille, dragging a couple of chairs over to join us. “Give us a tune.”

  “What do you think, Gerri?” says Granddad. “Any requests?”

  “How about ‘Back in Baby’s Arms’?” I say after thinking for a few moments.

  “I’m pretty sure I can oblige,” he says.

  He starts to play, and soon all four of us are belting it out. I glance at Lucille and Dina, their heads thrown back and giant smiles stretched across their faces, and I realize that they don’t give a hoot about their stage presence. They’re singing because they want to be part of the music, nothing more complicated than that.

  After supper I sit down with my parents to watch the special two-hour season premiere of Big Time. The first episode of every season is always focused on auditions. They spend a few minutes on each of the ten audition cities; first they show the big crowds lined up to try out, and then some clips from the audition highlights.

  Within the first few minutes of the show, a girl gets rejected, even though I think she has a great voice. I feel bad for her, but I can’t help feeling a bit comforted too. A little while later the judges let a guy through even though my parents and I agree that he wasn’t very good. I remember that Big Time is always like this. You can never really tell what the judges are going to say. Tim Canon is consistent though. He’s rude to everyone, even the people he likes—not that it makes me feel much better about the things he said to me.

  “Look!” yells my mother excitedly, and I realize they’ve cut to the big lineup outside the building where I auditioned. There are a few quick shots of the crowd, but I’m not in any of them. The crowd shots are followed immediately by the second day of auditions, making it appear as if they happened on the same day, although I know better. My heart starts to pound. I really hope they don’t show my audition, because I don’t want to end up on TV looking like an idiot. Poppy appears on the screen almost right away. She strides out in front of the judges as confident as anything and cheerfully announces her name.

  “Look!” says Mom. “It’s your friend! That girl who babysat you!”

  “She didn’t ‘babysit’ me,” I say.

  Tim Canon says something rude about Poppy’s outfit, and Poppy sasses him right back, which gets the other judges laughing and even forces a smile out of Tim.

  “She’s a natural,” says Dad.

  Then Poppy sings a gorgeous full-throated rendition of “At Last,” by Etta James. The judges can’t praise her enough, even Tim, and when she leaves the room the cameras stay on them for a few more seconds.

  “That girl is the real deal,” says GG as Tim and Maria nod. “She could win the whole thing.”

  Next, they show Babette Gaudet’s audition. She comes marching into the judging area and basically proceeds to bomb out. I’m not surprised, since she was pretty bad in the group audition. Tim Canon rips into her as cheerfully as ever, and even GG gets in on the act, telling Babette she should quit singing altogether. What strikes me is that while she’s singing, Babette really does seem to be enjoying herself. She’s off-key for sure, but she’s smiling and her eyes are closed. You can tell she’s really lost in the song. After they rip her apart, though, she looks totally defeated, and she storms out of the room as they continue to laugh at her. Only Maria Tillerman, sitting forward with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, doesn’t seem to be enjoying the spectacular flameout.

  It’s not out of the ordinary for the Big Time judges to be mean to a contestant, but I feel differently about it this time. I know what it’s like to stand in front of them, hoping they’ll tell you you’re great, only to have them stomp on your self-esteem. It isn’t as funny when you know how it feels.

  It turns out I have nothing to worry about. Just like Maria Tillerman predicted, I don’t show up onscreen at all. After Babette’s appearance the show cuts to a commercial, and when it comes back they’re on to another city. My audition is lost to history.

  When the show’s over, I go up to my room and send Poppy a quick message.

  Wow! You were amazing! I’m so proud of you, and I know you’re going to do great. I’ll be voting for you every week.

  I pause for a minute before writing the second half of my message.

  I’ve been asked to join a choral group. I think I’m going to give it a shot. Maybe next time you’re in town, you’ll have a chance to see me sing too.

  Chapter Seven

  On Sunday afternoon I tell my parents that I’m going to the library, and then I bike to the school instead. I don’t want to tell anyone that I’m trying out for the choral group until I decide for sure that I want to do it.

  It’s always weird being at school on a weekend. The hallways are empty and the lights are dim, but as I walk toward the music room, I can hear laughter and chattering. I stand outside the doorway for a moment, then take a breath and walk into the room. The chattering stops as everyone turns to look at me, and Ms. Kogawa, who’s stapling some papers at her desk, smiles and raises a hand in greeting.

  “Gerri,” she says. “You decided to check us out. That’s great. Come on in.”

  I grab a seat next to Bernice Sneed. Bernice is in my year at school, and Meg’s right about her being a hardcore music nerd. For as long as I can remember, Bernice has spent her summers at music camp and her weekends taking music lessons. I also recognize a plump smiling girl with short curly hair and a really tall kid who I’m pretty sure is in my brother’s class, but I don’t know either of their names. On the other side of the room a guy and a girl, both with whiteblond hair and bright blue eyes, sit with their backs against the wall. I’ve never seen them before, but they look so much alike, it’s obvious they’re related.

  “Hey, Gerri,” says Bernice. “I didn’t know you were trying out for choral.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” I say. “But I thought about it some more and figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it a chance.”

  “It’s going to be fun,” she says. “Ms. Kogawa has been trying to get a choral group off the ground for a couple of years, but she couldn’t get enough people interested.”

  Ms. Kogawa finishes her paperwork and comes around to sit on her desk.

  “Okay,” she says cheerfully, clapping her hands together. “I was hoping we’d have at least five or six people, so this is great. Good stuff. How about we do a round of introductions?”

  I learn that the blond kids, Macy and Davis, are twins and also that they’re homeschooled. They go to the same church as Ms. Kogawa, who tells us that they’ll be honorary students for choral-club purposes.

  Tyler, the tall guy, is a senior who’s looking for an extracurricular besides track to help him get into his school of choice. The plump girl, Olive, is a year behind me in school and has been singing for years.

  “I’m really just waiting to be old enough to try out for Big Time,” she says. “I figured this would be great experience.”

  I notice a weird look flick
er across Bernice’s face, and I start to feel self-conscious. I wonder what she’s heard about my failed audition.

  “Let’s get down to business,” says Ms. Kogawa. She grabs a stack of papers from her desk and passes them around. I take a look at the stapled sheets she’s handed me, a bunch of sheet music. I start to get nervous. I don’t know how to read music. Granddad taught me to play a couple of simple chords on a guitar, but that’s about it.

  “I’d like to start by getting a feel for who sings in what range,” she says. “Who wants to take a crack at piano?” I look around, surprised when Bernice, Olive and Macy all put their hands up to volunteer.

  “Great,” says Ms. Kogawa. “I’m glad to learn that I don’t have a shy group. How about you do the honors today, Bernice? The rest of you, don’t worry—everyone will have a chance.”

  I’m relieved when Tyler puts his hand up and asks the same thing that I’ve been thinking.

  “Are we expected to be able to read music? ’Cause I don’t sight-read.”

  “Who else doesn’t read music?” she asks. Only Tyler and I put up our hands, and I begin to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. She didn’t mention being able to read music when she told me about the choral group.

  “That’s okay,” she says. “You don’t necessarily need to be able to do it to start off. It will help if you’re willing to put some time into at least learning the basics. We’ll always do a careful run-through of the various parts before we really dig into a new piece. If you’ve got a good ear, it should be no problem, and I’ll be happy to give the two of you some extra help to bring you up to speed in the meantime.”

  Tyler glances over at me, and I can tell by the look on his face that he’s as skeptical as I am. I’m not about to stand up and leave in the middle of practice though, so I wait to see what happens.

  “The songs I’ve handed out are just for practice,” Ms. Kogawa says. “Once we’re off and running, we’ll start to develop a set list and come up with some ideas for future performances.”

  “Where will we be performing?” asks Bernice.

  “There’s nothing lined up yet,” says Ms. Kogawa. “I wanted to make sure I could pull a group together before I started looking for venues.”

  Our first song is a Broadway show tune. I don’t recognize the name, but as soon as Bernice plays the intro, I realize that I’ve actually heard it a million times, and although I wouldn’t know the words to save my life, the tune immediately pops into my head.

  I soon discover that choral singing isn’t quite as simple as knowing a basic melody. The vocals are broken into four parts—bass, tenor, alto and soprano—and each of them has a separate melody line. Individually, they sound kind of funny, twisting up or down and away from the tune I’m familiar with, but it becomes clear when we sing the components together that the whole sounds better than the sum of its parts. It’s like when I harmonize with my granddad, but more formal.

  It’s obvious when I think about it. I’ve never had a problem singing harmonies—they’ve just come naturally to me. Although I have no idea how to read sheet music, I start to think about how instinct can only take you so far. Seeing a simple melody broken apart and written down for multiple voices gives me a whole new perspective on how music works.

  As Bernice leads us through the song on the piano, Ms. Kogawa writes our names on the board under the various vocal parts. It turns out that Tyler and Davis both sing tenor, Bernice and Macy are altos, and Olive and I are sopranos. I’ve always known my voice is in the high register, but it’s never occurred to me to think of myself as a soprano. It sounds really professional, although I sure don’t feel that way, especially compared to the rest of them, who’ve obviously been taking music lessons forever.

  To my surprise, things actually start to come together pretty quickly. I’ve always had an easy time catching on to a tune, and this is really no different. Olive and I run through our part a couple of times, and once everyone else has had the chance to do the same with their parts, we try doing it together. It doesn’t sound perfect, and there are a couple of places where I lose the melody and have to stop for a second before I can pick it up again, but it sounds better than I would have expected. It’s amazing to think that music can be approached this way, like a puzzle that has a correct solution.

  “I think that’s great for today, guys,” says Ms. Kogawa once we’ve run through the song a few times. “We’ll have to do our best to find a guy or two to sing bass, but other than that, it sounded really good. I’m happy to say that I think everyone is going to fit into the group.”

  It’s been so much fun working out the details of the song, I’ve completely forgotten that this is actually an audition. I’m surprised to find that I’m excited to hear I’ve made the cut—for now, at least. Maybe my parents were right about throwing myself into music and improving through hard work. Maybe it won’t be that bad after all, although I can only imagine what Meg will say when she hears.

  “You were really good on piano,” I say to Bernice as we’re putting on our coats. She looks at me as if she’s surprised.

  “What, you mean today?” she asks. “Thanks, but that’s nothing. I’ve got a background in piano. I’ve been playing since I was four. This was just plunking out the melody line.”

  “Gerri and Tyler, do you mind sticking around for a minute?” Ms. Kogawa asks. We hold back as everyone else leaves. When they’ve cleared out, she comes around to sit on the front of her desk. “You guys did a really good job today. It isn’t always easy to keep up when everyone else has some theory and is able to read music. That said, I do think you could both benefit from a bit of extra training. Are you able to come by here for, say, a half hour or so on Tuesdays after school for the next few weeks?”

  “Works for me,” says Tyler.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I can do that.”

  “Good,” she says. “It’ll be fun to see where we end up over the next little while.”

  Chapter Eight

  As I suspected, Meg thinks the whole thing is insane.

  “What do you think you’re going to gain from singing with a choral club?” she asks.

  It’s after school on Tuesday, and I’ve just explained to her that I can’t go to the mall with her because I have to get some extra help from Ms. Kogawa.

  “I don’t know.” I shrug. “I just want to learn more about music.”

  “I don’t see the point,” she says, following me down the hallway. “You don’t need musical training these days to hit it big. Music producers don’t even expect you to have a good voice. They just shove everything through Auto-Tune and out pops a hit single. It’s more important to develop a good image than to waste your time with lessons and stuff”

  “I’m not trying to get a hit single, Meg,” I say. “I’m joining choral club because I like to sing, and this is a good way to practice and maybe learn a few things”

  She looks at me as if I’ve just sprouted a third eyeball from my forehead.

  “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” she says. “If you really want to sing, you should just sing on your own. You’ve got a wicked voice. I bet you wouldn’t even need Auto-Tune. I’m telling you, Gerri, you need to think about your image. I say this as your friend: choral club is not going to help your image.”

  “Meg, I don’t care about my image. This has nothing to do with trying to be famous.”

  “Well, last time I checked, people don’t try out for Big Time if they aren’t interested in being famous.”

  We arrive outside the doorway to Ms. Kogawa’s classroom at the same time as Tyler.

  “What do you think Kogawa is going to make us do?” he asks me.

  “Who knows? This is all new to me.”

  “I should have picked school paper,” he says before opening the door and walking into the classroom.

  “Is he in choral club?” asks Meg.

  “Yeah,” I say. “He’s doing it for the extracurricular.”

>   “I wonder if there are any spots open,” she says, peering through the doorway at him.

  “I don’t think they use Auto-Tune in choral club,” I tell her. “I have to go. I’ll text you later.”

  Ms. Kogawa passes me some papers as I come into the room. It’s more sheet music, but a lot simpler than the music we used in practice.

  “The goal over the next few weeks,” she says, “is for the two of you to become comfortable with basic sight-reading. I don’t expect you to get up to the same level as everyone else in the group, and that’s fine because a lot of this will be memorization, but you’ll find that a bit of hard work on this end will lead to a better understanding of things down the road.”

  For a few minutes we run scales and do some vocal exercises. Then we start to work on the music she’s given us. We stand next to her at the piano as she plays variations on “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and “The Farmer in the Dell.” It’s dead boring, but I slowly begin to make the connection between the notes on the musical scale and the words I’m singing.

  After a little while we stop for the day. Ms. Kogawa writes a website address on the board and hands us more sheet music.

  “Copy this address down,” she says. “This is an online tuning fork. Use it to find middle C and then practice doing these songs at least ten times before rehearsal on Sunday.”

  I glance at the songs. I’ve never heard of them, which will make it more interesting when it comes to singing them blind from sheet music.

  “Tyler,” says Ms. Kogawa, “I’ve been having a hard time finding a bass to join us in the club. I was wondering if you have any friends who might be up for it. What about Patrick from the track team? He’s got a deep speaking voice. Maybe he’d be interested in trying out singing.”

  Tyler starts to laugh. “Sorry, Ms. Kogawa, but there’s no way Patrick is going to join choral club. Let’s just say it’s not his scene.”