Free Diva by Alex Flinn Page B
Authors: Alex Flinn
really…involved. I mean, there's signs, warning signs… "Controlling
behaviors," Lucia, my shrink called them. Like, when he tells you not 2 hang w/your friends anymore
(that's how I traded my lifelong friends for Peyton and Ashley), and makes you call him the second you get
home, like 2 prove you're actually *there* & not someplace else. But Nick—and other guys, I'm sure—
always made that kind of thing sound so *reasonable* like he was just concerned for my welfare. So you
excuse it. Anyone would.
And 2nd, even when he *does* hit you, he's all apologetic. He's saying he'll *die* if you break up w/him,
and you believe him b/c by that time, you know how crummy his life is. You know his mom ditched him
when he was 5, and his father has never said 1 nice thing 2 him his whole life. So it's no wonder he
doesn't trust people. Who would??? And you always feel like if you could just do a better job at letting
him know how much you love him, he wouldn't be that way. So you say you'll TRY and he does 2.
And 3rd, more than feeling sorry for him, you… LOVE him. i loved Nick. Maybe I still do. I know it's
pathetic…I thought he loved me, but maybe he didn't even know who i really was.
There's 4th & 5th & 6th 2, but those come later. The first 3 are why girls—lots of girls, not just me—don't
"just leave" the second it happens. It's why we're stupid. And that's why it's so easy 2 look into those big green eyes of his and forget how he *always* said he'd change, forget everything except how good it was
when it was good. But I can't forget the other stuff. I have 2 make myself remember.
"Attack the high notes from above," Rowena says after my tenth unsuccessful run-through of the Mozart piece I'm practicing.
"What do you mean, from above?"
Rowena moves Fred the cat over so she can reach the sheet music, then points to a high B. "See that?"
When I nod, she says, "Now close your eyes and visualize it."
"Right." I close my eyes. Rowena has a weird way of looking at things. "I'm visualizing."
"Picture your voice as a physical being, floating above those notes. So instead of having to reach to get
them, you're dive-bombing from above."
"Okay."
"What does your voice look like?"
"Um, a pink line?" I wasn't really visualizing, but now I am.
"Excellent."
She starts to play my piece, and I start singing. But this time, I picture my voice dancing above the staff. It works. The music's easier and it sounds better.
"Excellent job," Rowena says when I'm finished.
"I wish everything was that easy—just visualize it, and it happens." I'm thinking about Nick; how seeing him made me sort of want things back like they were before, thinking about how lonely I feel.
"Maybe it is."
I visualize Nick exploding into a bazillion ex-boyfriend pieces. Better yet: I visualize Misty exploding. I
grin.
Rowena looks at the clock. My hour's over. "So, how do you like the school?"
"It's great. But the kids there think I'm weird."
"Really? Are you sure you're not projecting, that you're not the one who thinks they're weird?"
I visualize Gus and his conga line, the part of me that wants to join in with them, and the part that doesn't.
Do I not want to dance because I think I'll look stupid? Or because I think they look stupid?
I visualize myself, conga-ing. No way .
"I was surprised when you sang yesterday in the auditorium," Rowena says. "It was really brave of you.
Sometimes, you have to be brave to be an artist."
I think of Nick again.
"I'm brave a lot," I say.
Opera_Grrrl's Online Journal
Subject: All That Jazz
Date: August 24
Time: 5:22 p.m.
Listening to: "All That Jazz" from Chicago
Feeling: Happy
Weight: 114 lbs. (That is *so* not possible. I weighed 109 Fri., and I'm STARVING.)
After school, some of us walked over 2 the train station together. I was walking w/Gigi, making fun of
how the dancers all walk in 3rd position ALL THE TIME so they look like penguins…and someone
started singing "All
behaviors," Lucia, my shrink called them. Like, when he tells you not 2 hang w/your friends anymore
(that's how I traded my lifelong friends for Peyton and Ashley), and makes you call him the second you get
home, like 2 prove you're actually *there* & not someplace else. But Nick—and other guys, I'm sure—
always made that kind of thing sound so *reasonable* like he was just concerned for my welfare. So you
excuse it. Anyone would.
And 2nd, even when he *does* hit you, he's all apologetic. He's saying he'll *die* if you break up w/him,
and you believe him b/c by that time, you know how crummy his life is. You know his mom ditched him
when he was 5, and his father has never said 1 nice thing 2 him his whole life. So it's no wonder he
doesn't trust people. Who would??? And you always feel like if you could just do a better job at letting
him know how much you love him, he wouldn't be that way. So you say you'll TRY and he does 2.
And 3rd, more than feeling sorry for him, you… LOVE him. i loved Nick. Maybe I still do. I know it's
pathetic…I thought he loved me, but maybe he didn't even know who i really was.
There's 4th & 5th & 6th 2, but those come later. The first 3 are why girls—lots of girls, not just me—don't
"just leave" the second it happens. It's why we're stupid. And that's why it's so easy 2 look into those big green eyes of his and forget how he *always* said he'd change, forget everything except how good it was
when it was good. But I can't forget the other stuff. I have 2 make myself remember.
"Attack the high notes from above," Rowena says after my tenth unsuccessful run-through of the Mozart piece I'm practicing.
"What do you mean, from above?"
Rowena moves Fred the cat over so she can reach the sheet music, then points to a high B. "See that?"
When I nod, she says, "Now close your eyes and visualize it."
"Right." I close my eyes. Rowena has a weird way of looking at things. "I'm visualizing."
"Picture your voice as a physical being, floating above those notes. So instead of having to reach to get
them, you're dive-bombing from above."
"Okay."
"What does your voice look like?"
"Um, a pink line?" I wasn't really visualizing, but now I am.
"Excellent."
She starts to play my piece, and I start singing. But this time, I picture my voice dancing above the staff. It works. The music's easier and it sounds better.
"Excellent job," Rowena says when I'm finished.
"I wish everything was that easy—just visualize it, and it happens." I'm thinking about Nick; how seeing him made me sort of want things back like they were before, thinking about how lonely I feel.
"Maybe it is."
I visualize Nick exploding into a bazillion ex-boyfriend pieces. Better yet: I visualize Misty exploding. I
grin.
Rowena looks at the clock. My hour's over. "So, how do you like the school?"
"It's great. But the kids there think I'm weird."
"Really? Are you sure you're not projecting, that you're not the one who thinks they're weird?"
I visualize Gus and his conga line, the part of me that wants to join in with them, and the part that doesn't.
Do I not want to dance because I think I'll look stupid? Or because I think they look stupid?
I visualize myself, conga-ing. No way .
"I was surprised when you sang yesterday in the auditorium," Rowena says. "It was really brave of you.
Sometimes, you have to be brave to be an artist."
I think of Nick again.
"I'm brave a lot," I say.
Opera_Grrrl's Online Journal
Subject: All That Jazz
Date: August 24
Time: 5:22 p.m.
Listening to: "All That Jazz" from Chicago
Feeling: Happy
Weight: 114 lbs. (That is *so* not possible. I weighed 109 Fri., and I'm STARVING.)
After school, some of us walked over 2 the train station together. I was walking w/Gigi, making fun of
how the dancers all walk in 3rd position ALL THE TIME so they look like penguins…and someone
started singing "All
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