Читать книгу Another Song For Me - Jean Castaing - Страница 4

Monday felt like stress on a stick. I had the misfortune of being first up for Mr. Silver’s interrogation. I explained that I didn’t have a clue who I could interview. Grandpa, insisting that there was nothing different about him, had not been cooperative. And when I mentioned that simply being old and having a designer pig that slept in the house, and a name like Layton Clayton, would work, let’s just say that didn’t go well.

Mr. Silver circled my desk. “I know you can be creative, Madison. I expect something exceptional from you.”

That remark sent shock waves through me. Herb Silver believed in me?

When I walked into Glee Club everyone was hyped and my brain was spinning. Being chosen to be one of The Amazing Ten would be an incredible challenge. But for most of the kids, being chosen was the only thing they had to worry about. The letters, GPA, kept flashing before my eyes like a neon light.

Miss Anderson was in high gear. Everyone loved her the first day of class in September, when she strolled into the room looking like a tiny version of Oscar winner, Halle Berry. And I loved her because after years of self-imposed silence, Lydia Anderson opened the doors that made me want to sing again.

“Okay. Listen up kids. We’ve got a lot to do. This competition is based around Dixieland, which means most of you will be learning something entirely new.

Jelly Roll raised his hand. “Dixieland’s lame, Teach. Rap’s where it’s at.”

Miss Anderson tugged her earlobe. “Maybe you don’t recall what I said at the beginning of the year, Jelly Roll. I thought I made it clear, that we will explore all genres of music. Then, you can decide, if in your opinion, it’s good or bad. Every genre has good and bad. Even Rap.”

Jelly Roll slunk down in his seat.

I raised my hand. “Is Dixieland the only thing on the table? What about pop or show tunes or even country?”

Shari Parker groaned. “Country? Oh puh-leeze. They’ll think we’re a bunch of hillbillies.”

I’m not a fan of country, but when Shari speaks, I stiffen. “Get real, Shari. Today’s country singers hardly sound like hillbillies.”

“Back off girls,” Miss Anderson said. “We don’t have time for this. In the first rounds, one number can be whatever we choose. The rest, Dixieland. The finals are completely open. I’ll fill in the details later. Right now we need to concentrate on choosing songs that will send us home with the first place trophy.”

“Now that’s what I call attitude,” Baby Payday said.

Baby Payday, son of the famous Papa Payday, was the coolest guy in school. Not because of his dad, but because he was drop dead gorgeous, played an unimaginable sax, and was nice to everyone, even outsiders like me.

“Costumes,” Marcy blurted. We need to start working on costumes right away.”

Short Stack, shook his head. “I knew I’d hear that. This is about music, Marcy.”

I scanned the room and was amazed at the number of kids with nick- names, some bordering on crazy. We didn’t go for much of that in California, but it seemed to be nearly a requirement in the South if you were to have any stature at all. I shuddered thinking of what they might come up with for me. I was known as Maddie Magpie when I was little. Fortunately, no one knows that. Thank you very much. Maddie will do just fine.

Miss Anderson waved her hands in front of her face. “I’m glad to see you’re all whipped up, but settle down. There’s a ton of work ahead for anyone hoping to make the final cut. We’ll have tryouts in two months. There’s one thing that’s important to understand. Our Glee Club won a spot in this competition from hundreds of entries. While only ten kids get to compete, all of you paved the way. You guys are the greatest. I don’t know why, but something tells me this is going to be an experience we’ll never forget.”