Big Time by Tom; Ryan

It’s not just a talent competition; it’s a fight to the finish, based on the idea that only one person is good enough to claw their way to the top. This is never more obvious than during the sudden-death round.
    Poppy is a naturally friendly and outgoing person, but she also has an awesome voice, which makes her a target. I’m shocked when cameras catch three singers plotting to sabotage her during group survival. Group survival is the first part of sudden death. Contestants are randomly teamed up and then matched against another group, and they have to “sing to survive.” Three of the singers on the team that’s been chosen to compete against Poppy’s actually talk about putting detergent in her water bottle.
    â€œThis is insane!” says my mother, who’s watching it with me. “It’s like The Hunger Games !”
    Fortunately, someone has enough of a conscience to report the scheme to the producers, and when they’re caught on camera, the three guilty kids are kicked off the show. Poppy isn’t filled in until after her group performs and makes it to the next round. When she does hear what happened, she loses her composure for the first time and starts crying. When she tries to go into the bathroom, the camera follows her and won’t leave her alone.
    â€œMusic competition indeed,” says my mother, disgusted. She gets up off the couch and leaves the family room. I consider following her, but I really want to see how Poppy does in the one-on-one round. Of course, she is able to pull herself together and does a great job, easily blowing away her competitor, a short guy with what Tim Canon refers to as a “lounge-singer voice.”
    Now she’s on to the finals. It’s good news for Poppy, but for some reason I’m not all that happy for her.
    When the show ends, I turn off the TV and go upstairs to my room to practice my sight-reading one more time before the second choral rehearsal tomorrow. I’ve been practicing every night since Tuesday. At first I just sang from the music that Ms. Kogawa gave Tyler and me, but after a couple of times I knew the melody by heart and it started to feel like cheating, so I printed a bunch of other songs off the Internet and started learning them as well.
    I don’t need to be very loud when I’m practicing— I just quietly sing along to the sheet music—but I keep my door closed anyway, because I don’t really want anyone to watch or hear me. It’s really different to be approaching music this way, slowly and carefully, instead of just jumping in the way I always have in the past. I like it though. I like knowing that I’m going to work with other people to build something from the ground up. Right now, I think I prefer that to standing by myself in front of a bunch of judges, waiting for them to decide if I’m any good or not.

Chapter Nine
    I arrive at rehearsal a bit early the next day. Ms. Kogawa isn’t there yet, and Macy and Davis are sitting on the floor outside the locked classroom. I drop my bag and sit down across from them.
    â€œYou want some halvah?” asks Davis, handing me a Tupperware container.
    â€œWhat is it?” I ask, pulling out a piece.
    â€œHippie fudge,” he says.
    â€œIt’s actually a Middle Eastern dessert,” says Macy.
    â€œThat hippies feed their kids instead of real fudge,” says Davis.
    â€œWe’re vegan,” explains Macy.
    â€œFor the time being,” says Davis. “Oh man, I am going to eat all the hamburgers when I ungraduate and leave home.”
    â€œUngraduate?” I ask.
    â€œWe’re unschooled,” says Macy. “Most people would call us homeschooled, but that’s a different kind of thing. We don’t have classes or structured study. We just kind of learn about what interests us.”
    â€œAnd sometimes what interests our parents,” says Davis.
    â€œThat too,”