Avery is the only person in the choir room. Sitting at the huge black piano, she plays a song I’ve never heard before. The piano chords are simple, but her voice is amazing.
I step inside the room and close the door quietly, hoping not to interrupt her. It doesn’t work. She stops singing, takes her fingers off the keys, and turns to me with her usual friendly smile.
“Hey, Isla,” she says. “Are you looking for Mr. Williams?” Mr. Williams is our choir director, and I have to ask him about my grade.
“Yeah,” I say.
“He’s in his office.”
“Okay, thanks.” I go to Mr. William’s small office, which is a room inside the choir room, and knock on the door. He lets me in.
“So, I got your email,” Mr. Williams sighs, shaking his head. “And three emails from your mom.”
“My mom’s been freaking out about my grade,” I tell him. “When will the next test be put in the gradebook?” I had aced my last three choir tests, but Mr. Williams hardly ever updates grades.
“I’ll get to it as soon as I can,” he says. “But there’s nothing wrong with a B plus. You kids worry so much about your grades…”
As he goes on about kids and grades, I hear Avery talking in the other room. Her voice is faint, but I can barely hear what she’s saying. It sounds like she’s talking on the phone.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to be practicing with Jazz Choir right now. But they started gossiping in the practice room, so they kicked me out.”
Silence after that. She must be listening to the person she’s talking to.
Then I hear Avery again. “I guess they just don’t trust me or something. It’s not a big deal. I don’t need to hear their gossip anyway.”
My attention goes back to Mr. Williams when he says, “So, Isla, you’re not going to worry about Bs so much anymore, right?”
“Right,” I say. “See you in choir.”
As I leave Mr. Williams’s office, Avery is singing again. I’m about to leave the room when the bell rings for lunch to end. Choir is my next class, so I sit in my assigned seat, which is right behind Avery’s assigned seat.
“What song were you playing?” I ask her. “It was really good.”
She smiles. “Nothing is Fair,” she tells me. “It’s an original.”
I should have guessed she’s a songwriter. “That’s amazing,” I say. “I could never write my own songs. Is it hard?”
“It used to be,” she says. “But I’ve been writing songs since I was thirteen, so I’m kind of used to it.”
Five seniors, Andi, Cora, Katie, Lisa, and Violet, come out of the choir practice room. Probably the girls that kicked Avery out of the practice room, I think to myself. Avery and those five are the only seniors in choir, and Violet was appointed by Mr. Williams to be the assistant choir director.
“All right, let’s get started,” Mr. Williams says after the bell rings. “Violet, can you lead us in warm-ups?”
“Of course,” says Violet. As we warm up, I try to copy Avery, who sits in front of me. Everyone says that Violet is the best of all the seniors, but Avery is kind of my role model. She and Violet are both amazing singers, but unlike Violet, Avery is kind to everyone. Violet is only kind to a select group of people.
When we’re finished with warm-ups, Mr. Williams says, “Okay, let’s see who did their homework.”
A wave of nervousness rushes through me. Every day, Mr. Williams gives us a piece of music to memorize. The next day, we would all sing the piece together for a grade.
“I’m so scared,” whispers my friend Cami, who’s sitting next to me.
“Me too,” I whisper back.
Mr. Williams motions for us to start singing. After the first measure of music, I can already tell that we’ll get a bad grade. Even though I learned my part last night, all the wrong notes and giggling from other people distract me, and I forget everything.
The only people who seem to know what they’re doing are Violet and Avery, who sing every note perfectly.
“That was… well, it needs work,” Mr. Williams says after we finish, confirming my suspicions. “It sounds like a lot of you didn’t do your homework last night. You weren’t singing together, a lot of you weren’t singing at all, and a lot of voices were off-key. Violet, do you have any constructive criticism?”
“Yes, I do,” Violet says from her chair. “It’s a huge tragedy that someone with my experience in the industry should have to perform in a choir that sounds like this. We’re probably the worst choir in the district, and that’s your fault. Every one of you. Words can’t express how disgusted I am with this choir. If it were my choice, I would change schools to get out of this choir, but unfortunately, my parents won’t let me.”
She goes on for probably ten minutes about how we sound terrible, how we’re terrible people, how the work ethic of our school is terrible, and so on. Everyone listens in silence, waiting for it to be over.
The lecture takes up the rest of class time. When the bell finally rings, Mr. Williams says, “I hope you practice tonight better than you did yesterday. If not, we’ll have a serious problem.”
“I’ll definitely practice tonight,” Cami tells me. “There’s no way I’ll listen to that again.”
“Me neither,” I say as we put our folders in our backpacks. “I’m sick of hearing about how bad we are.”
As everyone is leaving the room, I notice all the seniors are gathered around Avery. Violet and Katie are hugging her. That’s unusual. Normally, everyone leaves as soon as the bell rings.
I stay where I am for a second, curious about the situation. Mr. Williams walks over to the girls.
“Avery, there’s nothing to be upset about,” he says kindly.
“Isla, are you coming?” calls Cami from the door. Cami and I always take the bus home from school together.
“I’ll be right there,” I call back. As I leave the room, I catch a glimpse of Avery, and I’m shocked to see her face completely red, with tears running down her cheeks.
When I get home, the first thing I do is practice for choir. But it’s hard to focus when I’m thinking about Avery. Why was she crying? Why were the seniors excluding her?
I take out my phone. At the beginning of the year, Avery had given everyone her number in case we needed to ask her about choir. Violet didn’t give anyone except the seniors her number, because she didn’t want the underclassmen to bother her.
I text Avery, Hey, is everything okay?
She doesn’t respond right away. I have a feeling she’s not attached to her phone like I am. So I keep singing, and about half an hour later, she texts back. I’m okay, thanks for asking, she had written, with a smiley face after the text. That was good to know.
The next day at school, everyone is terrified for the choir test. “If I get another bad grade, I’ll be grounded,” Cami says.
“Me too,” I reply. “But I practiced for two hours last night. I think we’ll be fine.”
When we start singing, it’s clear that not everyone had practiced as much as me. Only half of the choir is singing, and half of them are singing the wrong part. But I think I’m singing okay. Avery and Violet are perfect, like usual.
Mr. Williams shakes his head in disgust after we finish. “Violet, Avery, and Isla did well,” he says. “The rest of you can be expecting a call for your parents after class.”
“No,” Cami moans. “This is so unfair!”
“Yeah,” I try to be sympathetic.
As everyone leaves the choir room, I tell Cami, “I’ll meet you at the bus.”
“See you soon,” she says as she leaves.
Avery is the only person in the room now, and Mr. Williams is back in his office. “Hey,” I go to Avery. “Congratulations on passing the test.”
She turns to me with her normal friendly smile, even though she’s crying again. “Thanks,” she says through her tears. “You too.”
To Be Continued Next Week
Alexandra Michelle 