Whitlock School of Music Annual Performance Competition

Whitlock Main Performance Hall corridor is teeming with students getting ready for their performance. Even at this early stage, this event is monumental for everyone involved. Each performing arts department — drama, singers, dancers, instrumentalists, songwriters, and composers — is assigned a day and time to perform. And today, songwriters, composers, and singers are gathered together.

Nobody knows what’s going on inside the hall. Only the performer/s are allowed, while the six panelists observe and evaluate each performance. I already know three of them, so I’ll learn the other three when it’s my turn to perform.

Julian is also present, but only as an observer.

There are ushers at the entrance and an assistant who will call out names when it is their turn. Lora and I and the rest of our class are waiting outside the hall.

“Are you okay?” I ask Lora. She’s dressed like a goddess, but beneath that royal blue satin gown, she’s shivering in nervousness, and her palms are all sweaty. “Why did they have us present first? It’s absurd that they only want one winner per program.” She whines as she chews on her bottom lip. Right now, it is Andrea Green singing her song inside.

We only have four minutes for each performance, and the winners will be announced before the day ends today.

I sigh and hold her hand to comfort her. “They want to finish everything in a day, so they can proceed with the other batches next week. Let’s just give it our all today and hope that whoever wins will be supported.”

She gives a faint smile as she squeezes my hand. “You’re right. And you look stunning in red. It’s not every day that we get to dress up like this.”

I giggle. “Yeah.”

Kristoff appears in front of us out of nowhere. “Are you ready, ladies? They told me it was my turn next.” Kristoff’s face is devoid of any sign of stress. How can he be so relaxed about it? Experience really is the real deal.

Something suddenly struck me. “Why didn’t you join the Cello performance instead? This isn’t your field of study.”

“Because you’re both here. I told you I wasn’t interested in the prize. Nobody cares where I join anyway. My family has its own label.”

I try to hide my nervousness, but it goes away when I look up at him. I give him a friendly smile. “Thank you, but I really think you’re bragging.”

“Oh, he’s bragging.” Lora sighs and shakes her head.

Kristoff looks at the door when someone walks out of the theater. It’s Ben Eastwood, with his distinctly confident demeanor.

“Kristoff Stevens. The next to perform is Kristoff Stevens,” someone calls through a megaphone.

“It’s my turn. Good luck, ladies.” He winks at us and rushes into the performance hall.

***

People start to fill the halls as performances follow one another, making it hard to tell what’s going on with all the loud noise. Seriously, are we really in a private school? Why does no one follow the guidelines? It’s not yet their turn.

Just until we hear Lora’s name. The pounding of my heart against my ribcage gets erratic.

“Oh my God,” she mumbles breathlessly before embracing me. “Wish me luck.”

“You’ve got this, Lors.”

Lora stands up, straightens her back, and walks gracefully to the door, followed by an usher.

“How was it?” I ask Kristoff as he approaches me.

“You realize those who finished first can’t tell what happened on the inside, right?” He grins amusingly. “At least not yet.”

“Oh, please. Did you think no one said anything?”

“Well, everyone here is a contender.”

“Which you are not because you don’t want to win in the first place,” I argue.

He chuckles. “I didn’t say I didn't want to win.”

I grunt. “Fine, then don’t tell me.” I cross my arms.

“Alright.” He sits next to me, playing along with my act. “The comments are brief. They’re not critical, but I’m not sure if that’s just my perception. But your song is fantastic, so you can relax.”

That’s not too bad. “And what about the panels?”

”There’s one panel you might hate, Professor Clarke, and then there’s Professor Paige. Lastly, those from Julian’s label.”

I nod. I’m familiar with Professor Paige. He’s the head of the drama and film department. He used to be our professor as a freshman. “Only two from Whitlock? So, there are four from the label?”

I was about to ask who they were, but I heard my name.

“Anya Scott!”

I get to my feet and raise my hand. “I’m here!” I turn to face Kristoff. “So, wish me luck?”

“Nail it.”

Then I go to the hall’s main entrance, where Lora is waiting for me. She looks fine and at ease. That’s a good reaction. I suppose I’ll be okay.

“Just perform, play

“Your boyfriend is inside, so someone is rooting for you,” she murmurs, making me laugh.

“Thank you, Lors.”

“Hey, no more talking,” the ushers caution us, “and you don’t need to introduce yourself. It’s in the paper you turned in.” Geez, he’s so grumpy.

I walk through the door and am greeted by a wide, shiny stage with a high ceiling and empty box seats—except for the first row of front seats, where the panels are settled.

I must win this. Mr. Dean Melnard will be waiting for me tonight, and I’d like to share the good news with him.

I take a deep breath and march to the center, careful not to trip over my red gown. As I raise my head, the lights give me a slight glare in my eyes. Seven people are looking at me.

There’s a man I’d never met, plus my two professors, Julian, Carter, and Peter. But one of them will forever be etched in my memory.

Why is Stella Pierce here? And she’s staring right at me!

***

Stella Pierce must have realized by now I’m a Whitlock student having an affair with her professor. And yet I don’t have time to worry about that. She is free to believe whatever she wants, and I will deal with it later. I write songs and compose music. I don’t steal pieces like she does, and I need to show these people what I’m capable of. Julian believes in me. It’s time to have faith in myself.

I relax and smile at my audience before walking behind the grand piano and sitting gracefully. The hall lights dim, and a spotlight shines on my face.

You’re right, Kristoff... Lora. I will nail this today!

I start the song with a soft, emotional adagio introduction on the piano. I close my eyes and surrender to the present moment. I’m alone in this hall today. Nobody is looking at me, so I can be myself. I can be whoever I want.

I transpose to the beginning of the verse to prepare myself for the song, then I sing...

I. Have you ever had the feeling?That you are all aloneHave you ever heard the harmony?That’s coming from my soul. My childhood memories rush through my mind, tracing deep into my heart. Hayden and my parents. My song conveys the agony I’ve experienced in the past. It’s as if I’m speaking to them about my emotions and needing to be heard. I’ve tried so hard to stand alone.

RefrainIt speaks about eternity.You’re my only home But I found it. My future, friendship, and love. Lora, Kristoff, Julian, Mr. Melnard, and my benefactor, Mr. Pitch. They brought me back to life and restored my sense of belongingness. I wasn’t meant to be a loner who every so often fantasized about becoming a musician. I began to yearn for something much bigger. I am who I am because of them. I am loved. I am so happy about everything I have right now that I can fly.

ChorusI will soar like a sunLike the angels of music,Lay my head on your chestOur mouths sing the same melodyIs this love? BridgeFrom a twisted mind, this is a delusionSomeone to rely on is a piece of fantasyBut you showed me the pain can be undoneI have fallen for you so hardThis is loveAnd my feelings for them are unconditional.

Lora’s right. It doesn’t matter if I win or not. What matters is that I expressed myself and had a good time, which I did.

I finish my song with a soft, delaying arpeggio.

When the lights go back on, applause breaks out in the hall. I rise with dignity and bow in front of my audience. All seven of them are on their feet, with smiles on their faces.

Julian claps and beams proudly as if they’ve already declared me the winner. When each of them sits, the praises cease.

“I saw a huge improvement, Ms. Scott,” Professor Clarke begins, and I’ve never seen her smile at me before. “You began as a distracted songwriter struggling to finish a decent song. It’s good that you listened to me, but I’m not responsible for your progress.” She laughs as she looks at Professor Sebastian. “I’m not just saying this to you, but to everyone in your class so far. Brilliant work, Ms. Scott.” She nods and scribbles something on her notes.

“Bravo and perfect! That’s all I have to say, Ms. Scott,” Professor Paige concludes.

“Thank you, professors,” I say, my confidence shining through.

“It appears I wasn’t mistaken when I said you could write great songs, Ms. Scott.” It is now Peter’s turn. “You understand what I mean.”

His remark makes me gasp. It seems he isn’t afraid to say those in front of the other panels. The other appears intrigued, but I doubt they’d bother with it.

Stella Pierce finally speaks, and I’m afraid of what she’ll say. “I was moved by your song, Ms. Scott. You have a personality, and it sounds like you wrote that for someone you care about,” she says. “Am I right?”

“Yes, Ms. Pierce,” I say flatly.

“Good job,” she says as she analyzes her note.

I sigh. Thank God she acted professionally.

Carter reacts next. I suddenly recall our first meeting at Sebastian’s house. It makes me want to laugh, but I restrain myself. “The melody is catchy. It still plays in my head, and you have star quality. You have the looks and voice to be a singer. That’s a good thing. However, you still sound like a novice—but that isn’t a bad thing. We all start somewhere, and you have huge potential. Well done, Ms. Scott.”

Whoa.“Hello, Ms. Scott. My name is Jefferson Bryant of Sebastian Records, and I agree with Carter here, so I have a question for you. Would you accept another opportunity as a singer instead of a composer?” he asks.

That is a difficult question. A test, maybe.

“A singer, Mr. Bryant, can write songs as well. I believe it is a good combination for showcasing my talent.” I chuckle as I speak. “I also get to be rich and famous. But I will decline.”

“May I know why?”

“My goal is to become one of the best in my own field. I believe I can do my best work if I love what I’m doing.”

“Thank you, Ms. Scott. You will be notified if you are chosen to advance to the finals.” Jefferson Bryant scribbles on his notes with a satisfied smile.

I wait for the others to speak, but no one has said anything, so I know that’s my cue to leave. Julian nods his approval as I exit the hall, and another performer enters.

I received a text from him once I was finally outside.

Julian: That was brilliant. You make me so proud. I’ll see you at home.