Take a Bow (9 page)

“Your songs would be a million times better if you sang them. Those songs are
your
heart and soul. You’re lending them to somebody who could never have as much heart as you have, even if she tried.”

“I can’t —”

I cut her off. “You’ve got to step up, Emme. You’ve got to let people hear your voice, hear
you
. You’re better than being stuck in the background.”

I take her hands.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the most remarkable person in my life. And … I want you to believe in yourself as much as I do. I told you that I’m not making any promises that I can’t keep. So here’s a promise to you. I will be there with you every step of the way and do whatever I can to help.”

I reach up and wipe away the tear that has begun to work its way down her cheek.

“I don’t think I can do it,” she says quietly.

“Yes, you can.”

I kiss her lightly on her forehead and wrap my arms around her.

I know she’s scared. Singing in front of an audience is intimidating. But if I can do it, she can.

I did it for her. Pretty much everything I’ve done out of my comfort zone, I’ve done for Emme.

The voices in my head quiet significantly as I sit there with her.

There is only one voice left.

There is only one thing left to say to her. But I’ve used up all my courage.

So as I hold her, I think in my head:
Emme Connelly, I love you. And I’ve been in love with you since the first day we met.

O
kay, so not everything has gone according to my Plan. It’s my senior year, my last chance to make a statement at this school. To stand out. To be a star.

So, no, my Plan hasn’t worked out. But there is no Plan B.

I don’t know where it all went wrong. At this point, I was supposed to be the biggest star in the school. The one that the entire incoming freshman class would follow around and aspire to be.

But no, I’m stuck in some cruel otherworld where the tables have turned and I’m the one forced to practically beg Emme for help. And the cruel irony of it all is that
I’M
the person who had to basically drag her here kicking and screaming. And what does she do to repay me? She goes off and becomes part of a band that everybody here seems to love.

The least she could do at this point is help me get the part in
A Little Night Music
.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” Amanda offers. “I can practice the songs with you.”

I turn my back to her as I examine my closet. “You’re so sweet, Mandy. It’s just that Emme’s in the band and will be playing during the auditions, so she’s got the inside edge that I need to nail the part.”

I start to rummage through my closet for the perfect audition outfit. I’m so sick of all my clothes. For whatever reason, Carter doesn’t want to go to any openings or premieres lately, so I haven’t had an excuse to beg my parents for money for a new outfit.

I’m so sick of begging people for help. Just wait until I’m out of CPA and become a star. They’ll all come groveling to
me
to thank them when I win my Best New Artist Grammy.

“You’ll totally get the part, Soph. You’re the most amazing singer in the entire school. Sarah Moffitt —”

I turn around quickly and snap at Amanda, “I thought we’d agreed to not mention that name.”

Amanda shuts her big mouth.

Sarah Moffitt. For whatever reason, she’s been every teacher’s favorite student since day one. It’s like some Big Conspiracy Against Sophie. She’s given all the lead parts. She’s not even that good a singer. Sure, she has better range than I do. So what? She has, like, zero stage presence.

I made sure she was auditioning for a different role before I signed up for Desirée. (Of course she’s chosen Madame Armfeldt — if she wants to play my mother, an old hag, that’s fine by me.) She’s been handed every role we’ve competed against. What ticked me off the most was last year, she got to play Rizzo in
Grease
while I had to be Frenchy. I didn’t get any solos to sing. It was annoying. But now we’re seniors and have to fight over the lead parts. I chose Desirée because of the song “Send in the Clowns.” It will be my moment to shine. Every teacher who has placed me as “average” — a word that I do not identify with and never have — will see that I belong in the Senior Showcase.

That’s the only focus I have this year. That showcase. I will get a spot, no matter what I have to do. And when those talent scouts see me, game over. I’ll have a record deal before we graduate. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I will do whatever it takes to get it.

I pull out a fitted skirt and blazer. “I figure I’ll put my hair up like this” — I pull my shiny dark brunette hair in a twist — “wear a simple, yet flattering suit, pearl earrings … a classic, elegant look. A little unexpected as well. I’m sure everybody else will have normal school clothes on. I should probably …”

I pick up the phone to call Emme. “Hey, Emme!”

Amanda sulks on the couch. She desperately wants to be the one to write my songs for me. But she can’t. Emme is a way better songwriter.

“Hi, Sophie!”

No matter how long I go without talking to Emme, she’s always there for me. She’s a true friend.

“I have a question about the auditions. Do you know if they’re expecting anybody to arrive in period costume?”

“Um, the show is set at the beginning of the nineteenth century, so I doubt it.”

“No, I know, but I figure I should try to look conservative. Do you know what the sight song is?”

For the audition, we have to sing a song from the musical — I’ll obviously be doing “Send in the Clowns” — but then we’re also forced to sing a song from sheet music, completely unprepared. Which I’ve always hated to do. Plus, it makes zero sense because all the songs we’re performing are from the musical. There aren’t any originals. I think Dr. Ryan, the director of the musical, is doing it solely to make it difficult for me to get the part. She beyond favors Sarah, it’s so ridiculous. I swear, I even once heard Sarah call Dr. Ryan by her first name, Pam. Like
that
is appropriate student-teacher behavior. It seems that Sarah is doing whatever it takes to get ahead, so I’m just following her lead.

“You know that I’m not allowed to tell you that,” Emme says softly.

I wish Emme realized that all is not fair in auditions and war.

“I know, but I get so nervous during auditions, especially if you aren’t there backing me up.”

“But I will be there.”

Dammit. “Yeah, but it won’t be just you and me. I feel all alone in this, and you know, I …” I know what will work with Emme. I start working up tears. “I really need this, Em. And you are the only one who can help me. I need you.
Please
.”

I sniffle while Emme takes her time to respond. Amanda flips through one of my magazines.

“The problem is that it’s an original song. Dr. Ryan asked Ethan to use one of his songs for the audition.”

Crap. Ethan. Probably the person who would most love to see me fail. That guy has not liked me since day one and he’s all overprotective of Emme, like she belongs to him. She owes him nothing.
I’m
the reason she’s at CPA, not him.

“Why does he hate me so much, Em? Why?” I wish Dr. Ryan could see me now; I’d be guaranteed the part. My voice cracks and everything.

“He doesn’t … oh, Sophie. I’m so sorry that you’re upset. Let me see what I can do.”

“You know that I’m eternally grateful to you, right, Em? I’m going to entitle my first album
Emme is my BFF and I owe her everything
.”

I go on and on about how amazing and wonderful she is and pretend that talking to her has made everything better. I hang up the phone and see Amanda staring at me. “Oh, Emme!” She exaggerates her words. “You are the best thing ever, thank you for getting off your high horse for two seconds to help li’l ol’ me.”

I bust out laughing. I can’t believe how needy I sounded.

“Enough about Emme.” I pick up my outfit to try it on. “I’ve got a role to win.”

Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth with Emme. You’d think she’d want to help her best friend land a role that could change her life, but she keeps saying things like she’ll “get in trouble” or Ethan will “kill” her.

Does she not realize that this is how show business works? It’s a tough place and you have to take whatever advantages you can. For me, that’s knowing as much about the audition as possible. And the person who can give me that is Emme.

Although, if I have to keep forcing tears with her, I’m going to have nothing left for the actual audition. Not with the constant role I play in
Who Loves Emme More
? I’ve even been wearing the bracelet she bought me for Christmas or my birthday or something a few years ago. I know how much it means to her that I wear it. It’s not really my style, it’s cutesy — like Emme. My style is more fashion-forward, modern chic.

Anyway, I decide to sit it out. She’ll crack if I give her the silent treatment.

She just sits there and studies on her bed. She isn’t even looking at me. Or noticing that I’m mad at her.

Different strategy. “Ahem!” I say loudly.

She looks up. Bingo.

“So sorry, Em. I’m just thinking about the Senior Showcase and hoping that I have enough major parts coming up to be considered for the audition.”

We aren’t even allowed to audition for the showcase; we are asked. And even then, your spot isn’t guaranteed.

“But it won’t matter, I guess. I’m singing one of your songs after all. No one can say no to an Emme Connelly song.”

Flattery, my dears, gets you everywhere.

She smiles at me … then starts reading from her history book.

“Have you decided what songs you’re going to put on your CD for your senior thesis?”

She looks up. “Um, not really. I know a few. I’m starting to work on a new song for the showcase, plus I need a couple more for the college auditions.”

Then something hits me.

“You know what’s awesome. Your senior project is perfect. It helps you with your college applications and we can use it as my demo.”

Emme bites her lip. Her and her stupid lip biting. Just flippin’ spit it out if you have something to say!

“Is there a problem?” I try to say sweetly.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s just that I didn’t think you were going to sing on it. You haven’t …”

I know we didn’t talk about it, but I just assumed. Plus …

“Well, if I don’t sing on it, who will?” Does she not realize I’ve been doing her a favor all these years? Giving my voice to her songs.

“I am.” She says it so softly.

Obviously this is some sick joke she’s playing.

I give a light laugh. “Oh, Emme, you almost had me. You know that I’d be more than happy to help you out. Plus, when I send out my demos, it will put your songs out there as well. It’s what friends do.”

I can’t believe Emme would forget that she’s always been a huge part of my Plan. Yes, my demo will get me recognition with managers and labels, but this is how she’ll get her break as a songwriter and producer as well. It’s how the business works. I’ve done my research, so a little appreciation would be nice.

Emme shakes her head. “I know, but it’s just … we’re recording in Ethan’s studio and it’s sort of a condition of his….”

“Oh. I get it. His condition is to ruin my life. Is that it? First, he refuses to let me see the song for the audition tomorrow and now he wants to prevent me from getting a record contract?”

Emme looks upset, like she’s about to cry. I don’t see what she has to cry about. It isn’t her life that’s being sabotaged, it’s mine.

“Sophie, he thinks it would be good for the college recruiters to hear me sing it, that’s all. We can record your vocals as well and do a demo for you.”

Well, that’s better. But there’s still something she’s not giving me.

“I’m sorry, Em. I know you’d never betray me. I’m just so worked up about tomorrow’s audition. If I just had some idea of the other song, just a little, teeny, tiny clue, I’d feel so much better.”

Oh, what a surprise, she’s biting her lip. She walks over to the full-size keyboard in her room.

“Okay. I don’t know it that well since I’m not playing on it. I’m just going to sit here and play what I remember. This is between you and me.”

I get up to give her a hug. “Oh, Emme! You have no idea how much I appreciate this. You’re the best!”

I sit back down on her bed and close my eyes and she starts playing a melody. I begin to hum along to it and play it in my head for the rest of the night.

I totally nail the audition. I know my “Send in the Clowns” is killer, but when Dr. Ryan hands me the sheet music for the sight-reading portion, I bite my lip (in honor of Emme!) and pretend to study it. I sing the first half of the song exactly as written, but then, for the last verse, I close my eyes and put my Sophie touch on it.

When I open my eyes, Dr. Ryan clearly looks impressed. Ethan looks pissed. Like I care.

“How’d it go?” Carter greets me at my locker.

“Incredible!”

He gives me a hug. “That’s great!”

“Listen, I’ve got my bag to get ready for tonight, so I figured we can go to your place so I can change.”

Carter and I are going to some art opening tonight. Totally not my thing, but it’s the first social thing he’s been up for in a while. I got this black cocktail dress and funky red shoes to go with the SoHo crowd. At least, I hope it’s in SoHo, or at the Met or MoMA. Somewhere with fabulously trendy people and an awesome swag bag.

“I thought we’d just have dinner down the street, since the exhibit is here.”

“What?”

Carter shakes his head. “I told you it was Trevor’s exhibit of his impressionist era–influenced paintings.”

I’m sure he did, but I have no idea what any of that really means. “I didn’t realize it was a CPA thing, plus I don’t know who Trevor is.”

“Trevor Parsons. He’s only the best art student in school.”

He says this like being the best art student is a big thing in this school. The stage is what matters.

“I thought we were going to some fabulous opening. We haven’t done that in forever. Can’t you call Sheila Marie and see if there’s anything going on tonight that’s
fun
?”

“But I want to go to this. And we can’t call Sheila Marie. She’s no longer my publicist. I don’t really want to deal with the press anymore.”

Here I had the most amazing audition, and Carter has to ruin it by taking me to some lame school event and firing his publicist.

It used to be fun to be with Carter, doing things like going to openings and getting my picture taken. But lately he’s been so weird. He doesn’t like to go out, he’s been talking about Emme just a little too much (it’s always about her, isn’t it?), and he’s even cutting down on his hours on the soap opera. If I wanted to date a normal high school boy, I’d go out with some guy back in Brooklyn who’d be dying to be seen with me on his arm.

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew.” Carter puts his muscular arm around me.

I lean into him. Carter’s a good guy and sometimes I can’t believe he’s my boyfriend. I dream big, but he’s so much more than I thought I would get. It’s not just his looks or his fame (although those help). I’m just thankful he isn’t that emotional a person; I’ve got too many of those people in my life as is. Plus, we look really good together. I figure once I get my record contract, he’ll come to some of my gigs, get me some press attention (mental note: talk to his mom about hiring a new publicist ASAP), then we’ll break up right before my album release, which the tabloids would love: “Single Sophie Stays Strong.”