High Note by Jeff Ross Page B

of me.
    “I understand that tomorrow you’ll be fitted for your costume.”
    “That sounds like fun.”
    I thought she was going to leave, but instead she stayed there in front of me, so I remained in place too.
    “So much talent,” she said, almost to herself.
    “Sorry?” I said.
    “You have so much talent, Hailey. Remember that. An absolute natural talent.”
    And then she was gone, and I was left wondering how far natural talent would take me.

Eleven
    “F orecast today,” Sean said during lunch the next day, “hot and muggy. But don’t worry, folks, there’s a cold front creeping in.”
    I was being fitted for my costume and felt awkward with him standing beside me. “I can’t even think about it, Sean,” I said.
    “Crissy’s never going to forgive you for landing this part, is she?”
    “It doesn’t seem like it.”
    Sean yanked on my sleeve. “This is too short.”
    “That’s why I’m being fitted,” I said. The woman who was adjusting my costume came back and tightened the corset. I wondered how I was going to be able to settle onto the floor with it hitched so tightly.
    “This is too short,” Sean said to her. She reached around and yanked at the sleeve. Then she went back to making it impossible for me to breathe.
    “It will blow over. She’s just hurt right now,” Sean said, taking a seat beside me.
    “Isabel’s no better,” I said. “Have you seen how she grabs me? I have bruises on my arms.”
    “She sure can complain,” Sean said. Isabel had thrown a couple of fits during the rehearsals. Once, she stormed off the stage for no apparent reason, shouting about “that girl” as she went. “But the question is, are you enjoying yourself?”
    I didn’t even have to think about that. “Yes,” I replied. “A lot.” It was an adventure. I didn’t always know what I was supposed to do, but it wasn’t just me who made mistakes. The other performers did too. And I was okay with not being perfect. That’s what rehearsal was for.
    “Then you’re doing it right.”
    The woman helping me with my dress gave my shoulder a squeeze. “This looks great. How does it feel?”
    “Tight,” I said.
    “Then it’s fitting perfectly,” she replied before walking away.
    “That is seriously tight,” Sean said.
    “Is it too tight?”
    Sean blushed. “I’m not sure what that would mean.”
    “Are all boys like you?”
    “No,” Sean said. “Not at all.” He paused. “Most aren’t even close to this polite, kind, generous and handsome.”
    “Thanks for the warning,” I said.
    We walked back to the concert hall.
    “Do you think this story still has the same moral?” I asked.
    “That Crissy will decide friendship is more important than dressing up and singing?” Sean said.
    “Yeah.”
    “I’m not so certain that’s the moral anymore. We may have overestimated her interest in friendship.” He looked really, really sad. Sean is more loyal than anyone I have ever known. Crissy had never been very nice to him, but they were friends. I knew her sudden pulling away must hurt him too.
    “She unfriended me on Facebook,” I admitted.
    Sean looked shocked. “Seriously?”
    “I went to send her a message, and she was gone.”
    He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s cold. I want to think it’s all her mother’s influence.”
    “She’s broken free of her mother’s influence before.” I leaned against the wall. Then I remembered the costume and bounced off it. “We’re seventeen, Sean. You can’t stay under your parent’s thumb forever.”
    “That depends on how controlling your mother is.”
    I thought that being seventeen was also part of the problem. We were right at the age where our parents’ influence remained a factor, but everyone was pressing us to figure out our futures. At the very least, we were expected to do a little planning. It was like living in an elastic band that everyone wanted to yank on.
    We watched as the musicians took their seats. Crissy