Free High Note by Jeff Ross Page A

orchestra. I don’t know how to explain it. I mean, there’s the music playing, the other actors moving through their parts, the audience there in the darkness before you. And your voice rising up above it all.
    Maybe if Sean hadn’t said anything, I wouldn’t have been nervous, but I was feeling it now. My hands were clammy. My voice jittered slightly. Still, I managed to contain the nerves. I let them flow through me and out. I didn’t hold them in my hands or stomach. I didn’t let them get near my vocal cords. I focused on the music and what I had to do.
    When it was over and we’d taken our bows, Denise dragged me to the front of the stage to take one extra bow. I held her hand as we bent, then straightened again. Denise stepped away, and the audience continued to clap. I bowed again, alone at the front of the stage, the spotlights completely blinding me.
    Everyone was standing. The entire audience was on its feet.
    “That was perfect, Hailey,” Denise said as we left the stage. “You did so well.”
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “Tomorrow you get to do it again.”
    “I can’t wait,” I said. I wanted to be back on the stage already. There were a couple of phrases I felt I could have put more emotion into. One section where I wanted to play with my volume to see if it would have a different effect on the audience. But I’d felt comfortable in my role, and though it was fairly brief, I’d tried to make the most of it.
    There were reporters backstage. I was asked a hundred questions. What it felt like. How it was up there. Nerves, ambitions, the entire process. “What will come next?” asked a young reporter with crisply cut hair and deep brown eyes.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess the rest of the week.”
    “Perfect,” he said. “A girl who focuses on the goal at hand. Let them come to you.”
    “I guess.”
    He winked at me. “They will—don’t worry about that.”
    Later, when the reporters were gone and I was in my dressing room removing my costume, wig and makeup, Denise popped in.
    She grabbed my shoulders and leaned her chin on my head. “Truly brilliant,” she said. “I knew you were the right choice.”
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “It was close,” she said, letting go of me.
    I didn’t reply. I was looking at her reflection in the mirror before me. “Crissy almost got the part?” I asked.
    “The votes seemed to be going her way. Then it was tied with only one vote left. The final one was Clive’s.”
    “The baritone?” I said.
    “Yes.”
    I thought back to the auditions and couldn’t remember seeing Clive there. In fact, I remembered Amanda looking for him just before the rehearsal that afternoon.
    “I don’t remember him being there when I auditioned,” I said.
    Denise winked at me. “That’s because he wasn’t.” She leaned in close. “Isabel can’t always get her way. When I discovered that Clive had been asked to be one of the judges, I told him the way the vote should go. He listens to me. We’ve been best of friends for a while now. He trusts my instincts.”
    “So he only voted for me because you asked him to?”
    “Don’t sound so surprised, Hailey. It’s just the way things work. You were the better choice. Crissy is good, but she would have made it all about her. She would have turned into a mini Isabel. A micro diva. It’s better for her to be brought down from the beginning, before she causes herself harm. I could tell you would be able to handle it. And you have. You’re wonderful.” She gave me a quick pat on the head. “See you in the hall for the reception, okay?”
    “Okay,” I said.
    I sat there stunned for some time. I had assumed I’d won the part fairly. In fact, I’d assumed that only Isabel had voted for Crissy. I was totally wrong. It had been so close. I’d only received the final vote because of backstage politics.
    I didn’t know what to do with this information. It felt awful to know. It felt…wrong. I tried to