Chapter 2

Kellie filled me in on the excitement on the way home. Neither Greg nor Carrie had spoken to me since I asked Marcy to homecoming. Somehow I was surviving the freeze.

Carrie's cousin had recorded our impromptu concert during the summer and had played it for one of her friends without telling him where she got it. The guy was in charge of a soundtrack for an animated movie and he thought we had the right blend of complimentary vocal skills to compile three or four songs.

"He even sent us some songs," Kellie exclaimed. "Look at this! These are great songs. You could totally sing these."

I looked at it. But I couldn't for the life figure out how it would sound. Unless I could convince someone to sing it for me, there would be no way for me to tell what they would sound like.

"You would have to sing it first," I said. "And I'm sure your version would be much better than mine. So why don't you sing them?"

Kellie was silent.

"If we get someone to demo them would you try it?" she asked.

"If you can get someone to demo it, why not get them to sing it?" I replied. "It's just not my thing, Kel."

Kellie huffed.

"What is your thing?" she asked sarcastically.

"I don't really know," I said. "But I don't feel the same excitement about getting on stage as your three do. I know that for sure. I sing in the shower. I sing along with the radio while I'm driving. But I'm not really into exhibitionism."

Kellie looked out the side window.

"You're in the church choir," she said flatly.

"Because Mom makes me," I said. "This is the last year I'll be in it, too. I already told her that after the Christmas thing, I'm done with it. If she wants to ground me until college, so be it. I don't mind being an anonymous voice at church. But I don't want to be out front. Kellie, I wouldn't ask you to play catch with me. I wouldn't ask you to go fishing with me. I wouldn't ask because I know you think it's something you wouldn't enjoy."

"I wouldn't enjoy those things," she said quickly.

"How do you know?" I asked. "Have you been fishing with me? Have we ever tossed the ball around?"

"Of course not," she said.

"Well, then you can't be sure," I replied. "But I have sung with you. I have stood up in front of a crowd and been so embarrassed and scared I could hardly move. It's not something I enjoy. I mean, I don't dislike it. But I just don't want to put forth that much effort."

Kellie was silent for the rest of the ride home. She finally spoke as she opened the door.

"It's our big chance," she said. "And it might be our only chance."

She was gone before I could reply.

You probably know how it turned out. Well, if you saw "Tiger Tales" you do. And since the animated movie brought in more than $200 million, I'm betting you've at least heard of it — especially if you have kids.

My mother, of all people, made a rational argument. She didn't insist I do it. She didn't tell me I had to do it. She simply asked me if I was willing to be responsible for my three closest friends missing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Of course, I wasn't. And I also didn't think for a moment that we'd get anywhere farther than the garage. So I relented.

I spent three days with Kellie going over the melody. She would play it on the keyboard and I would do my best to impersonate the sounds. It wasn't as difficult as I expected it to be. It was three times as hard. With each mistake, we would stop what we were doing and rework the offending section.

I know it was frustrating to Greg, Carrie and Kellie but it was 10 times as frustrating for me. After all, I was the one who was committing most of the mistakes. And I was the one who really wasn't interested in being there in the first place.

Finally, after three consecutive weeks of eight-hour practices, we decided that we were as ready as we would ever be for our demo session.

Of course, none of us had any idea what we were doing. We also had no idea that studio time is booked in three-hour blocks. We had four songs ready and Carrie's cousin insisted it wasn't enough.

"Jeff just sent those to you to try out," she said. "Don't you have other songs?"

Of course we didn't, I thought angrily. The only songs we know are ones we would have to pay copyright fees to perform. None of us wanted to go that route.

Finally Greg lit upon an answer that the girls readily agreed to — and an answer that I insisted was not going to happen in this lifetime.

Greg, being my best friend and long-time confidante, knew my most intimate secrets. He knew about my infatuation with Kellie and he also knew that I had penned more than two dozen poems to her — poems that she didn't know about and poems I saw no need for her to know about then. Most certainly they were poems — heartfelt commentary about unrequited love — that should never be set to music regardless of the reason.

I will admit that some of them were pretty decent. Several had been published in young writer's periodicals — after thorough editing. Greg put forth the idea that we take some of my words and let the three of them craft the melody to go around them.

I refused instantly and loudly.

"Then write something else," Carrie insisted. "I had no idea you were a poet. That is so cool. How long do you think it would take?"

Let's see, I thought, I've been in love with Kellie for almost eight years and I've written about 25 poems, perhaps three or four of which were good enough for public consumption. Four divided by eight is one-half divided by 12 months is ... well, that is too much math for me.