Read Online Better Than Perfect by Melissa Kantor - Free Book Online

living in an alternate reality, one that was light-years away from my actual life.
    I lay on my back staring up at the sky while Danny, Declan, and Sinead tested their mics and Sean hovered over a man Danny had told me was the club’s sound guy as he adjusted the levels. Every once in a while there would be the loud screech of feedback, and then everything would go quiet and then they would start again.
    My mother either tried to commit suicide or accidentally overdosed.
    I lay on the stage, repeating the sentence in my mind as if repetition might make it comprehensible. But the words remained completely unreal to me, detached from any kind of meaning they might try to convey. Overhead, clouds passed slowly in a stratospheric breeze, and I felt as far away from earth as they were.
    â€œOkay, Sinead, let’s hear it,” called Sean.
    â€œShe just went to get some water,” Danny answered.
    â€œOh, well, that’s great then,” said Sean. “I guess we’ll all sit around twiddling our thumbs while we wait for Her Highness to return.”
    â€œJust give me a second and I’ll do it,” Declan said. He was taping wires down with bright blue tape.
    â€œHow about you, Jules? You don’t exactly seem to be overworked.”
    I sat up. “What?”
    Sean was standing next to the guy at the soundboard, his arms crossed over his chest, a beer in one hand. “Talk into the mic,” Sean said. “Testing: one, two. Just like in the movies.”
    I got to my feet, crossed the stage, and stood at the microphone. The perfect lawn stretched out all around me, as if the stage were a ship floating on a broad emerald ocean. Beyond the edge of the hill, the actual water appeared, then disappeared into the horizon.
    â€œTesting: one, two,” I said. “Testing: one, two.” There was a loud screech, and suddenly Danny was at my side.
    â€œHere,” he said, moving the stand about a foot away from where it had been. “Try this.”
    â€œThanks,” I said, following him and standing at the mic in its new location.
    â€œKeep going,” Sean called out.
    â€œUm, testing. One. Two. Testing.” On the second testing , my voice boomed out, shockingly loud.
    â€œYou’re killing me with that testing,” said Sean. “Sing something. Sing ‘Happy Birthday.’”
    Obediently, I started singing. “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear . . . someone. Happy birthday to you.”
    There was silence. In the distance, Sinead appeared, a pyramid of water bottles balanced in her arms.
    â€œLet’s have that again,” said Sean, but he didn’t say it withquite the same venom with which he’d said everything else.
    I sang “Happy Birthday” one more time. By the time I was finished, Sinead was standing beside Sean. “Holy shit,” she called out. “Jules, you have a great voice.”
    â€œThanks,” I said.
    â€œNo joke, Jules,” said Danny from over by the drums. “You can really sing.”
    â€œOkay,” I said, not really able to process their compliments. They were all staring at me. “Do you need me to sing it again?”
    â€œAh, yeah,” said the sound guy, who had a mustache so big I was pretty sure it was ironic. “If you could sing it one more time, that would be great.”
    I sang the song for a third time. It didn’t sound like anything special, certainly no different than it sounded every other time I’d sung it. When I was finished, everyone clapped. I felt weird standing up there with people looking at me, so I just asked if we were finished, went over to the edge of the stage, and sat down.
    When it was time for the concert to start, everyone but me went off to change. Contrary to gender stereotypes, Sinead was the first one done, wearing a tight black dress and a pair of high-heeled black pumps. She stood at the edge of the