High Note by Jeff Ross Page A

that true? I’d never seen myself as that type of person. Sure, I was able to jump into just about anything and be okay at it right away. But I’d never thought of myself as someone who quit when things became more difficult.
    I watched Isabel as she started and stopped five times.
    “Okay, okay,” Evelyn said. Then she turned to the side of the stage. “Hailey, we need you out here now.”
    I was shaking and sweating. It was so weird. I’d never been nervous before.
    I stepped out onto the stage.
    “You will be singing this from the floor, you understand?”
    “Yes,” I said.
    “So you will need to project.”
    I went down on my knees, then curled my legs under me. It was uncomfortable, but if I was going to sing loudly enough, it was the only way to keep my torso straight and tall.
    Amanda was suddenly beside me. As the director of the opera, these staging prompts were all her ideas. She placed her hand on my back and straightened me slightly more. “You need to be down like this, but looking to the top of the balcony. Do you understand? Where your eyes go, your voice goes.”
    “I understand,” I said. I’d never tried to sing this loudly before.
    “You will project?” Evelyn said.
    “Yes,” I replied. Amanda moved to the side of the stage while Evelyn returned to her place before the orchestra.
    The music played. I waited, listening, then started to sing.
    “No, no, no, no, no,” Evelyn said, waving her arms and bringing everything to a stop. She didn’t cross the stage to where I sat. Instead she yelled to me, “We just agreed you need to project.”
    “Okay,” I said.
    “Like a mouse!” she said. “You sound like a little mouse.” She wasn’t exactly yelling at me, but it felt close to it. “You are squeaking at us. You need to sing . Loudly, with passion.”
    The orchestra began again. I waited, inhaled as much air as possible, and let loose with the most sound I had ever managed.
    “No, no, no, no, no,” Evelyn yelled. She flew across the stage and stood above me. “I didn’t ask you to shout at us. I asked you to sing with passion.”
    “Sorry,” I said.
    “Don’t be sorry, Hailey. Be better.” She stepped away and motioned at the orchestra.
    I was shaking as the music started again. Mrs. Sturgeon sometimes got frustrated with us, but she never yelled. She was always encouraging. Then I glanced at the small audience and spotted Crissy there. She was leaning forward in her seat, her arms crossed and resting on the back of the seat in front of her. She was glowing, as if this was the greatest performance she’d ever seen. She was enjoying every second of my discomfort.
    The first notes trickled out. I glanced at Amanda. She rotated her arms, pushing me to continue. And somehow the sound came. I directed the music toward the balcony. My lungs felt as if they were going to burst. I glanced over at Amanda, and the sound dropped. She pointed to the balcony and yelled, “To the rafters!”
    I looked back at the balcony, and my voice soared toward it. I could almost see the notes floating up and out above me. I didn’t look at Amanda for the rest of the piece. At the end, the orchestra kind of fell away, not coming to a tight stop.
    “Fine,” Evelyn said, stepping away from her spot before the orchestra. She glanced at her watch. “The singers can go. I need to work with the orchestra now.”
    When I looked down at the seats, Crissy was gone. I felt for a moment as if I’d beaten her. As if I’d blown her out of the room with my voice.
    Amanda stopped me as I was heading out the door. “Hailey, you’re doing great.”
    “Thank you,” I said. But it didn’t feel like I was doing great. No one had ever demanded so much of me before. In my lessons and choir, I was learning. With this production, I was working. It wasn’t whether I would eventually learn how to sing an aria. I was expected to already have the skills and simply be able to change whenever something new was asked