I feel proud every time I saw the Tupperware container containing the chocolate chip cookies we made. However, today was Saturday, and I had an audition in two hours, which meant I had to leave the house in one so I could get there early. Rodrick was still asleep when I left the house with my tap shoes in hand, wearing a professional outfit that was still easy to tap dance in. I made a cup of hot tea with honey before I bolted out of the door.
The same numb, nervous butterflies feelings swirling around in my stomach, and I could feel myself shaking. I could barely tell that I had turned on the Madame Butterfly, and my driving was on autopilot. The theatre holding auditions was far away, in the middle of nowhere, but still in town. However, when I stepped out of my car to go into the small, white theatre I put on my best, cheerful smile, effortlessly faking confidence. I handed a headshot and resume that was a little too old to the person sitting in the front.
The audition went by so quickly that it was nearly a blur. First, some man who I guess was the choreographer, showed us a quick tap combination. Around twenty other people were auditioning. We all marked it with no music at half speed a few times, then we marked it at full speed, no music, then we danced it full out, all together, with the music. Finally, in groups of four, we did the entire combination. I bombed. I missed a few sounds, I was off a few beats, I accidentally did my right foot instead of my left, and messed up choreography, I was totally out of sync, and out of mind. I had to physically hold back a lump in my throat. Great, I failed the dance audition.
Then, it was time for the singing bit of the audition. We learned the first sixteen measures of the title song, Anything Goes, in one large group. Finally, something I was good at. Rehearsing the measures in the large group was the first time I had used my vocal cords since Thursday, and they were well-rested. I was already very familiar with the song, and I picked up the notes easily. This audition was one by one.
I anxiously waited for each person in front of me to finish. Slowly, one by one, the line got shorter, and then it was my turn. I walked into the closed-off piano room, with three people sitting at a table in front of me, with the fake smile glued to my face, trying to stand up tall with confidence. Fake it til you make. These were the sage words given to me by Ms. DuBose, my middle school choir teacher.
The piano intro started. "Times have changed…" My voice rang out. I continued with the next few measures. I immediately realized that I wasn't acting enough, I wasn't animated enough. I could have smiled more, raised my eyebrows, moved my face around, showed more emotion, but I was so committed to the song that I didn't.
Then, I realized something. I was singing well. I'm not going to tell you that my singing voice is bad, anyone who has been singing for as long and as frequently as I have has a good singing voice. Singing in choir was my main hobby, activity, passion, etc, heck I got a partial scholarship because of it. However, at the end of the measures, there is a high belt. "Stead of landing on Plymouth Rock!" Were the lyrics, and a millisecond before they exited my mouth, I realized I didn't take a big enough breath. "Stead of landing on Plymouth Rock!" I sang out, but I was straining, my voice fell flat, nearly cracking, on the last note. That's it I blew it.
"Thank you, you may leave now." Said the indifferent voice of a woman sitting in front of me.
"Thank you," I said cheerfully, still smiling. This smile dropped from my face the second I stepped into my car. I rested my hand on the steering wheel pitifully for a few seconds before pulling out of the theatre's parking lot. I began to drive home, trying my very best to concentrate on the road.
I stepped out of my car when I parked my car in front of the house. My eyes were dropping, I had a weak frown, and my face was lazy. I began to walk up to the house and I opened the door to the house to see that Rodrick, still in PJs, was slouching on the couch and watching baseball on the old TV. He looked at me, but I guess he didn't see my face enough to tell I was distraught.
"How was the thing?" He asked, trying to be polite. I just scoffed, rolled my eyes, looked away from him, and stomped over to my room. I didn't look back, so I had no idea how Rodrick was reacting to my rude gesture.
I jumped on my bed and lay there for at least five minutes. I was just feeling down, I didn't feel like doing anything. Then, I heard a knock on my door. Who else could it possibly be but Rodrick?
"Come in." I managed to sigh out. He slowly began to creak open the door. Then, he was standing in my doorway, leaning on the wall.
"Didn't go so well, huh?" He asked.
"Ugh, I don't know how I could have messed up so horribly. My shuffles barely made a sound, you could tell my flaps were too late, I did two buffalos and a Maxie ford on the wrong foot, and I forgot to do all of my hops and stomps. As for the singing, my acting was barely there, and I hit the high belt a step and a half too flat."
"I didn't understand what any of that means," Rodrick said, confused. I laughed and was cheered up slightly. "Look I'm sure you didn't mess up nearly as bad as you thought you did." He said. I smiled a little bit but still rolled my eyes. I slumped back into a slouch, and my face turned lazy and sad again. "Hey, I have some good news."
"What?" I asked with little emotion, looking at him.
"Mulligan's Pub is hosting a battle of the bands on Tuesday night, and Löded Diper's got a spot on the lineup." He said with a proud nod.
"That's wonderful, Rodrick," I exclaimed with a little optimism and a smile. He was smiling, too.
"Yeah." He said. There was a pause. "Well, let me know if you need anything, I'm probably going to fall asleep in the next few minutes, but tomorrow is Sunday, we could go do something."
"Uh, sure, I'll think about it," I said with a smile. "I start work on Monday, but remind me about the battle of the bands, I want to be there."
"Really?" Asked Rodrick, he seemed surprised.
"Obviously, I have to come to support my favorite band!" I exclaimed, only half-joking. Rodrick chuckled and stepped out of my doorway and into the hall. I sighed, I needed a small moment alone, and in a few minutes, I heard the sound of baseball on TV. I smiled when I heard Rodrick cheer, probably at a run.