Chapter 17

Monday, I was still preoccupied with everything that happened over the weekend. I was worried about Willie and what going into hospice meant for him. I was worried I wouldn’t get to see him again and tell him what he really meant to me. I was also worried about Hanna. The bombshell that she was dating her professor was still sinking in, and I wasn’t sure how we were going to convince her that she was making a mistake, especially since she’d shown before that she wouldn’t listen to anyone when it came to relationship advice.

I had to really work to focus during class, but I think I managed it. More insanity in my life wasn’t going to be an excuse if my grades slipped again ... or in some cases, didn’t continue to rise to where they needed to be. It wasn’t easy, though.

I was actually looking forward to lunch, to just listen to my friends talk about whatever the current gossip was and escape for a little while. Or at least I thought that was what was going to happen. Everyone was chatting happily when I sat down and started getting my lunch out. Mrs. Phillips was a big believer in always having something cooked, or at least leftovers, which meant no more sad sandwiches for lunch.

It wasn’t until I got everything in front of me that I realized what everyone was talking about.

“I heard they’re starting auditions for next season like really soon,” Payton said. “I was thinking I might go see it this year.”

“The closest one is way over in Atlanta,” Amy said. “You’d think they’d have one in Nashville, at least once. I mean, I don’t expect them to come to Asheville, but Nashville is the capital of country music and that would give me a chance to finally go see it live. I could talk my parents into letting me go to Nashville for the day, but Atlanta, I’d have to stay overnight. No way they’d let me.”

“Yeah, mine neither. But last year, the closest one was in Florida. Atlanta is at least kind of in driving distance,” Payton said. “I just want to really see it live once, you know? The pre-taped and live shows are all out in California, so I’ll never get to see those.”

“I’m going to the Atlanta auditions,” I said offhandedly in between bites.

I wasn’t really thinking when I said it; the words just kind of tumbled out of my mouth. Their reactions shouldn’t have been a surprise, but they kind of were.

“What?!” Payton said, almost dropping her fork.

“Like, going-going to the auditions,” Amy asked. “Not just to see them, but like, performing?”

“Uhh ... yeah,” I said, the next bit of food halfway to my mouth.

They were just staring at me, open-mouthed.

“That’s so cool,” Amy said, practically bouncing out of her chair.

“It was my manager’s idea,” I said. “We’re trying to find a way to get my career back on track, since my contract’s been cancelled.”

“That makes sense,” Cameron said. “You’re the best singer I’ve ever heard, better than a lot of the guys that show up on that show.”

“Man, we should all go,” Payton said.

“It’s next Monday,” I pointed out. “The administration would probably notice if a lot of us were out the same day. Especially since I’ve already talked to the principal about getting out of school that day.”

“Ohh, I didn’t realize it was happening on a school day,” Amy said.

“But you’ll end up on the televised audition show. You’re so good. You’ll definitely get featured,” Payton said.

“It’s a really good idea,” Cameron said. “You should have gone last year. Their contestants weren’t that great. You would have crushed them.”

I wasn’t so sure of that. According to Warren, thousands of people auditioned for the show every year and the competition was pretty fierce. I hadn’t ever really watched the show, but it seemed unlikely I’d be better than all of them. Although that wasn’t the reason we hadn’t considered this until now.

“I had a contract last year. Besides that giving me a lot to focus on, what with the gigs they were setting up, I’m not sure how that could have worked. Being signed with a local label and going onto a show sponsored by a different, national label doesn’t seem compatible.”

“Ohh, yeah,” Cameron said. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“You’re going to do great this year, though,” Payton said. “Like you said, you had a record contract, so you’re already a big step ahead of everyone else.”

“Actually, from what I’ve heard, that’s pretty common. According to my manager, very few of the people you see on these shows are actual amateurs, at least not the ones who make it to the later rounds. They either play regular shows and have their own self-published stuff out there, or they’ve had contracts that lapsed or they lost for whatever reason.”

“Ohh, I didn’t know that,” Payton said. “The way they make it sound, when they ask their life story or play the video about their home life or whatever, it always sounds like they love music but never did it for real.”

“Of course they do,” Cameron said. “It’s TV, so they have to make the drama enough to catch people’s attention. I read somewhere that, at least when it comes to reality TV, it’s about people watching it thinking, ‘I could do better than that’. Even something skilled like singing, it’s ... I don’t know...”

He trailed off, trying to think up the word.

“Aspirational,” Thea said quietly.

That was one of the first times I’d actually heard Thea speak. She was quiet, at most nodding along, but you could always tell she was listening.

“That’s it! Aspirational,” Cameron said, snapping his fingers. “I don’t care how good the singing is, they wouldn’t hold audiences just on the performances. Except for the auditions, where they throw in people who can’t sing so we can all feel good about ourselves, most everyone who is on the show is good. We root for the people whose story we like the best, not the one who sings the best. I mean, there are exceptions. Season one had Julie Jackson, who was worlds better than everyone else, but I think maybe even her success was because the show was new. They had that other girl a few years later, Tonya whatever-her-name-was. Everyone went crazy for how good she was, but after she won, poof. You never heard anything from her.”

“They haven’t really had anyone get big since Julie. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any of these people after they won. Sorry,” Payton said apologetically, realizing what she was saying, since I was about to try to use the show to boost my career.

“I follow a couple of people I liked from earlier seasons on Widget, including people who came in second and third. They’re touring a lot, mostly in Europe or Asia, from what I’ve seen,” Lily said. “So even if you don’t make it big off their contract or even win, you could still use it to boost your career.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” I said. “I have to get through the audition process first, though.”

“You’ll do well. Like I said, the producers push the people with the best story, and yours is going to be compelling,” Cameron pointed out. “I mean, it sucks, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but everything that happened, it’ll make amazing TV. I’m not even talking about your mom. They’ve had people on whose parents had cancer or were in car crashes or whatever, but you then had to battle a studio and the legal system. And you won. That’s a story they’re going to want on TV.”

“At least it’s good for something,” I said, a little more sullenly than I intended.

“I don’t mean it like that, Charlie, and you know it,” Cameron said. “I’m saying, you had this stuff happen and you can’t take it back or make it un-happen, so you can at least use it to fix the damage that’s happened since.”

That’s one thing I liked about Cameron. Months after I finally got out from under all my legal battles, everyone was still kind of walking on eggshells whenever a conversation turned to my parents or everything that happened. Cameron didn’t. He treated me exactly like he had before my parents died. I think I needed that.

I just nodded and gave him a smile so he knew I wasn’t upset or anything. I’m not sure anyone else picked up on it. Now that they knew I was going, even Ryan, David, and Jake, who hadn’t participated in the conversation, were getting excited. They all talked about what the auditions would be like; memorable moments from previous years on the show, and what would happen when I made it to the later rounds.

I just let them talk, occasionally nodding along, but otherwise silent, as I realized what I’d done. Up until now, other than Principal Wallace, Kat, and the band, only a few people knew about the audition. I hadn’t been trying to keep it quiet on purpose, but I hadn’t actively advertised it either.

I mean, I knew I was going to have to tell people eventually, but I’d been hesitant to mention it. I don’t know if it was because I was worried that people would think it made me somehow less of an actual musician because I was going on the show or, worse, I’d go and not get in, and everyone would know.

I was pretty sure it didn’t matter now, though. The way my friends were reacting, I realized there was no way this would stay under wraps. I could ask them not to say anything, but that would make it even more of a big deal, and someone would still let it slip out. I just hadn’t been expecting them to make such a big deal about it, but there was no going back now. The cat was out of the bag, which gave me another reason I had to succeed at the audition.

Thursday, I hadn’t heard from Dr. Wallace about whether I’d be allowed to take Monday off or not, so I headed toward his office when the school day ended. Although I hadn’t seen any sign that he was going to say no, and I knew I’d gotten my grades up, I was still really nervous. If he didn’t allow it, I’d have to risk skipping school, which would definitely cause me problems when I needed a week and a half off in November, or skipping the audition, which I couldn’t afford.

Mrs. Morgan waved me on toward the office without asking why I needed to see him. I guess I’d made enough trips to the principal’s office that it was just assumed if I was there, it was where I was supposed to be. While it made things easier sometimes, I wasn’t sure I liked what that said about me.

Knocking on the heavy wooden door, I heard Dr. Wallace call out, “Come in!”

I pushed open the door and went to sit in one of the chairs. We’d had enough of these meetings by now; I figured wasting time waiting to be invited to sit wasn’t needed, since we both knew he was going to tell me to have a seat. While he looked up and gave a small twitch of his eyebrow as I sat unbidden, he didn’t say anything one way or another, so I figured it was okay to just get right to the point.

“So I wanted to check in with you about missing class on Monday for the audition,” I said, cutting right to the chase. “You said I needed to get my grades up, and I’m pretty sure I have. I’ve been working with my tutor, and I think all my teachers would say I’ve turned things around.”

“You have,” he said, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress and I’m pleased with the improvement. I’ve also had conversations with all of your teachers, and they’ve reported that you do seem significantly more focused and engaged in class, so yes, you’ve done a good job.”

While I liked hearing the praise, he hadn’t actually said yes or no about the audition, which gave me a moment’s pause. I’d been in this situation before, doing everything the adult asked me to do just to have the rug pulled out from under me, so I couldn’t help but be worried. No matter how reasonable he’d seemed so far.

“Given the effort you’ve put in these past couple weeks,” he continued, unaware of the anxiety his dramatic pause was giving me. “I’m comfortable excusing you from classes on Monday for your audition. However, I do have some conditions.”

So close. For a second, I was excited, but there were always conditions.