LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      Shari studied my jeans, my hoodie, and my shoes. All a size six, except for my shoes. I have big feet. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was constantly doing that, among a million other annoying things.

      “Madison, there’s something you need to know. When you got called out of Glee Club this afternoon, Miss Anderson dropped a major bomb. Only ten of us will make the cut for New Orleans. I suggested the group be called The Amazing Ten. And also, we need a GPA of at least 3.0. I guess they don’t want a bunch of dummies representing the school.”

      “Ten out of forty? That’s pretty tight,” I said, ignoring the GPA issue.

      “Have you ever been to New Orleans?” Shari asked.

      “No.”

      Shari’s eyes lit up. “I have. Lots of times. If we can ditch the chaperones there’s tons of stuff to do in The French Quarter. Stuff we shouldn’t be doing,” she whispered.

      I squinted at Shari. “Sounds like you think you’re on the way.”

      “Oh, get real Madison. We all know who’s going to make it. You might even have a chance. Except I did see you locked up with Peters after you blew out of Glee Club. I hope you’re not in trouble again. It would be dreadful to miss a trip like this.”

      “Thanks. I never realized you were so compassionate.”

      Attempting to show even more compassion, she flashed a fake smile and asked, “How’s it going with Silver’s assignment?”

      Shari was also in my Social Studies class. I’m a lucky person to start my day with Herb Silver and Shari Parker.

      “Do you have someone in mind?” she asked.

      “Sorta.”

      “Sorta? You’re kidding. He’s going to start grinding on us Monday morning.”

      I zipped my hoodie all the way to my throat, flipped the cap over my head and pulled it down as far as I could. I studied the dark sky. “No one ever told me it gets so cold here.”

      Shari pointed to a Mercedes SUV. “There’s my ride. Better not miss Glee Club Monday. Miss Anderson wants to start working on ideas for our program. And oh, good luck finding someone significantly different.”

      Shari dashed off, waving like the Queen of England.

      Second Chapter

      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.”

      Third Chapter

      By Friday, God had not dropped someone significantly different into my lap, so I agreed to go on a fishing jaunt with Grandpa, hoping I’d manage to get him to see he was my only hope.

      As I did every day after school, I sat on the cold stone wall and waited for him. At least Shari Parker was nowhere in sight. The fantasy of performing in New Orleans danced in my mind when a distant rumble brought me back to reality. Smoke poured out the tailpipe of Grandpa’s faded red pickup as it chugged around the corner. He pulled close to the curb and waved me over. “Get in here, gorgeous,” he called.

      Ready for another shake-your-guts-out ride, I climbed in and snapped my seatbelt. Country legend Patsy Cline’s voice blared from the CD player.

      “Grandpa.” I laughed. “Your hat’s crooked. You gonna’ wear it backwards like a rapper?”

      He drew his bushy eyebrows together and straightened his hat. Making sure he’d hear every lyric Patsy sang, he turned up the volume. “Why don’t you sing along, Maddie? Your voice is already as pure as Patsy’s.” He smiled. “Take after your Grandma. She sang with all the great ones, you know.”

      “Yes Grandpa. I know.” I hoped he was right about my voice. I needed a bucket full of miracles to get me to New Orleans.

      He gunned the motor, then shifted from first to third in a nano second. After my head stopped bouncing, I wiped a clear spot in the foggy windshield.

      So, where’re we headed?”

Скачать книгу