Free Big Time by Tom; Ryan Page A

thing.”

    I don’t know about next year, but it sure seems like this year might be Poppy’s. One week after another, I watch as she survives the judges’ critiques and the voting public to make it through to the next round. She’s a fan favorite—every week there are more people in the studio audience holding signs with pictures of bright red poppies and FLOWER POWER written around them in glittery block letters.
    The judges are fans too—even Tim Canon is usually able to muster up something nice to say about her performance, and Maria Tillerman, who hasn’t seemed particularly cheerful this season, often calls Poppy her breath of fresh air. Poppy is always gracious and appreciative when the fans are going crazy for her or the judges are giving her compliments. I can’t help but imagine myself onstage in her place, and I wonder if I’m developing the kind of stage presence and musical confidence that would allow me to take it in stride the way she does.
    I also wonder how I’d manage to sing the many different genres of music that Big Time features. Most of them would be out of my comfort zone, and although Poppy always manages to stretch her face into that big beautiful smile and deliver the goods, it’s hard to believe she’s really a big fan of some of the music she has to sing. Hard-rock week is followed by disco classics which leads into country shakedown. I doubt Poppy has spent much time singing that kind of stuff in the past.
    I guess performing in a choral group is kind of similar, as we’re singing a lot of songs that I wouldn’t be otherwise, but it’s different in that we work through those songs together, trying to find a common sound. On Big Time , the production is slick and prearranged, and Poppy and the other contestants have less than a week to choose, learn and rehearse songs they aren’t even familiar with. If I ever do make it onto Big Time , I’m pretty sure that that will take a lot of getting used to.
    I send Poppy a few messages, but I don’t hear back from her. Judging by how hard she’s working, it doesn’t really surprise me. I just hope she’s still having fun.

Chapter Twelve
    As the weeks with choral club go by, music starts to occupy my mind in a way it never has before. I’ve always picked up lyrics and melodies easily, and I still find it easy to slide comfortably into a song, to pick out the harmony that needs singing and plug it in like a missing puzzle piece. The big change now, however, is that I have a much better understanding of what’s happening when I do it. It’s not just instinct anymore—it’s backed up by theory.
    With every passing Sunday, I feel a bit more confident in my abilities when I show up at rehearsal. Tyler and I have been making good progress with Ms. Kogawa, who’s started to teach us a bit of basic theory—harmonics and transposition and other concepts I was never aware of before. Although music is becoming a structured and rehearsed thing for the first time for me, it doesn’t make it less fun. In fact, it’s just the opposite. I feel more in control, as if practicing and learning the building blocks of music are giving me new insights into what you can do with voices, instruments and a melody.
    Ms. Kogawa starts all of my Tuesday sessions with Tyler, as well as the weekly rehearsals, with a vocal warm-up. We run scales, play silly games with our voices and do musical rounds, faster and faster with every turn so that we end up stumbling over words and laughing breathlessly. It’s like doing laps and push-ups before soccer practice. The warm-ups stretch our vocal cords so that by the time we get into the actual music, our voices are limber and ready to roll.

    My family goes to visit Granddad for his birthday. We hang out in the lounge with his friends and watch him open presents. Seeing Granddad surrounded by the many nice people he’s