I walk into the entry hall of the Brookman Conservatory, trying hard to keep my knees from knocking together. I set my bag down on the dark hardwood, grab my sheet music from the pocket, and look around nervously. The walls are beige and lined with photos of singers who had gained their fame here. I pass by them gazing into the eyes of the stars in the pictures and wonder if I have the same possibility to reach my dreams. I find myself at the end at the other end of the room, doors into the theater in front of me and doors back out to the city behind me. I glance behind me and gulp.

You have a make a choice. Don’t be scared, you’re already here. Be strong.

I turn my face away from the safe decision and continue forward towards the theater. I open the doors, terrified, and look out to a huge theater. Walking down the aisle I see some people towards the front of the stage. I sink in one of the red plush chairs, uncurl my sheet music, and try to hum the notes to my audition song. As I sing, I hear others doing the same.

They sound so good. Oh god.

I ignore my thoughts and continue singing, hoping to block out everyone else.

“ooooooOOOOoooo”

I stop when someone sits down next to me. I look up to see a brown haired, hazel eyed, Latina girl staring at me, and looking curious.

“You new?”

She asks, her New York accent strong.

I nodd, “How about you?”

“Nah, been coming for a while. ‘Cept everyone ‘round here that’s been ‘round as long as I ’ve is a little more mainstream. You know?”

I nodd again, knowing what she was talking about. Growing up, all I heard was pop music. I would sing along with the radio sure, but as soon as I heard real music, I was really hooked.

“What’s your name?”

“Peyton. And you?”

“Dani. How’d you end up ‘ere?”

“It was the prize of a competition I won at home.”

“Home?”

“California.” Her bright eyes dim slightly.

“LA chick, huh.”

She frowns slightly then looks at the music in my hand.

“What you singin’ ?”

I hand her the sheets, at one look at the title a smile reappears on her face.

“Nice selection.”

Glad to have pleased someone with as much experience as she, I smile too. She almost makes the butterflies in my stomach calm down a little.

“Thanks.”

She hands it back and I stare back down at it, my hands still shaking slightly.

“You nervous?”

“Kinda, I am still battling with stage fright.”

“Ahh you’ll be fine ‘m sure. You get through a competition to get here, so this shouldn’t be to ‘ard.”

“True I guess, but everyone here is just so….”

“Now don’t compare yourself to ‘thers. Just go up there and do what you know.”

Her kind words of wisdom and comfort quickly erased my worries. And now it begins, a red head who looks like the manager stands up and begins,

“People people, everyone towards the front of the room. Fill the seats, fill the seats. Yes, yes. Muuuuch better. Now-”, he claps his hands together enthusiastically, “First off I would like to welcome all the new singers who came this year and, of course, would like to say hello to all the regulars.”

At this point, Dani lets out a big ‘whoop-whoop’, causing everyone to laugh. As over dramatic as all theater people are, the red head manager doubles over in laughter. He wipes his dry eyes, as if he has been crying with laughter before continuing,

“Yes welcome back Dani. My name is Jerry McField and I’m the director of sorts here at the Brookman Conservatory. Every year, many talented singers all around the country come and perform. And every year, sadly there are some who don’t make it to the top,” he stopped, his face long and eyes sad for effect,”, but every year there are those,” his face now animated and shining, “who rise above all obstacles and achieve their dreams.” He pauses and looks at his clipboard scanning the list, “We will go in alphabetical order. Starting with, of course with, Dani Abbot.” She stands and punches her fist in the air with an untouchable energy and strides up the stage with an air confidence. She hands her music to the pianist and cavorted center stage.

“Hi I’m Abbot, Dani. I’ve been coming ‘ere since I was 16. The firs’ couple years I came cause I was invited, but lately I come because I know they want me.” She gave a cheeky smile in Jerry’s direction. “But really though I love singin’ and after being rejected,” she glared at Jerry this time, “I still sing for y’all ‘cause it’s my calling.”

The opening cords to an unfamiliar song echo around the room. She sings with a raspy voice, her voice full and edgy. By the end of her song, I am blown away and desperately want to leave.

You can’t compete with this!! Wait, no remember what Dani said. Oh god I am so confused.

She sits back down next to me and smiles. The next few after her had different voices, much more ‘mainstream’. As Jerry goes down the list of names, pop songs fill the room and occasionally a rugged rock, punk, or jazz song, basically anything else that didn’t make you want to throw up as they sing.

“And lastly, Waters, Peyton.”

Nervously, I keep myself from running back out the door, and slowly walk up to the stage. My hand holding my sheet music sweats. Like every performance beforehand, my whole body numbs as I walk over to the piano. The pianist takes the sheet music and smiles. If I can only get out of this frenzy, this could be an amazing performance, but it is all up to me. I turn back towards the audience, acknowledging the largeness of the theater. The side panels seem so far away, when just a minute ago from my seat they seemed to be right there. Everyone’s expectant faces look up at me.

I stutter, “H-hey e-everyone.” I gulp, trying hard to calm the nerves. “I’m Peyton Waters. This is my first time here at the Brookman Conservatory. I won a competition in California and earned the chance to come here. Enjoy.”

The easy, wonderfully familiar chords ring though the theater, chords everyone knows. The build up was there, but I missed my entrance.

Come on Peyton, just do it.

I give an apologetic look to the pianist and he begins again. The chords echo again through the theater. I am cautious but follow through; I take the lead and sing. My voice is quiet and meek at first, but I feel the numb freeze off, and my voice grows stronger. And stronger, when I reach the chorus I am finally in my comfort zone. I absorb the words and tone of the song. The meaning and edge bite into my heart, into my voice. A song about love, joy, pleasure, sorrow, living a full life. I take in all I can from around me to put more drive into the song. Before I know it, the pianist is playing the last couple cords and my voice soars for the last note. The music ended, the silence and doubt reenter the room with a bang. My hype brakes as I look into the audience, not knowing what I will find there. Their faces are masked with an unreadable expression. All the usual post performance worry takes over my body and I walk over to the pianist, my body shaking. He hands me the music and pulled the cover over the keys, he doesn’t look me straight in the face.

Oh no, was it really that bad, oh god, oh god.

As I walk back across the stage and down the steps towards my seat, I keep my face down. I see Dani stand up out of the corner of my eye. She is smiling, gives me a wink and starts clapping. I look up in surprise as everyone present follows suit. A couple clap me on the back as I make my way back to my seat, my face red with embarrassment. I sit down and see the pianist looking straight at me with swimming eyes, clapping harder than most. Jerry McField gets up on stage, looking exhilarated. “Wow, well everyone, that was very amazing, this year better than most. First of let me congratulate all of you, you all gave all you had. As far as deciding on who will move along in the program, we will call you and tell you. If not this year, next year perhaps. Thank you everyone.”

Did that really just happen?

He hops back down off stage and the house lights turn on. I stand up to leave, when people start to crowd around me. Some asking questions, but most fawning,

This is ridiculous, why are they crowding around me

Dani, sensing that I am uncomfortable, yelled, “Alright come on move’it, let her get through!” She grabs my hand and leads me back to the bright lobby. When we got there, she punched me lightly on the shoulder.

“Peyton, you were amazing!”

I smiled and laughed.

“Thanks. You did an incredible job!”

“Yah, well they’ve see’ me be’ore. But you were new and fresh.”

“Thanks, I just followed your advice. I went up there and did what I know.”

“That might be the firs’ time someone’s takin’ my advice, and it actually ‘elped ‘em!”

I smiled, and before I could reply, the pianist came over and shook my hand.

“Wow. I just had to come say hi. It’s been so long since I have seen such a spirited performance. It was beautiful, touching.”

“Thank you so much.”

He walked away.

“Wanna go get somethin’ to drink, skip this town?”

I laughed and nodded. We both grabbed our stuff and opened the doors out the city. Maybe good things really can happen.