mounted the stage and stood on the spot where I’d sung earlier. She looked out at the room. Isabel joined her on the stage. Isabel said something to Crissy, and Crissy nodded. A moment later, Isabel sang a few bars of “L’ho perduta.” Crissy leaned into her and sang back. The orchestra was tuning and there were people talking, but the two of them kept going as though it was opening night.
“This is bizarre,” Sean said.
“You don’t say.”
“What are they doing?”
“Performing?” I said. Crissy looked happier than I had seen her in weeks. She sounded great as well.
I knew she was trying to show me up—I could tell by the look on her face. She was trying to prove that she was the better singer. That the chemistry between her and Isabel was something astounding. But I wanted to let them finish. I thought that maybe if Crissy could sing to an empty room, she would feel better.
“Why are you standing here?” Sean said. “You need to get up there.”
“I want her to finish.”
“Why?” he said.
“Because she needs it. And what can it hurt?”
It appeared, as the orchestra was finishing its preparations, that no one was paying Crissy and Isabel any attention at all. When they were done, Isabel took a step back and clapped. She probably thought other people would join in. Crissy bowed. Someone in the orchestra clapped too, but it died out quickly, leaving Crissy bowing to a complete lack of applause.
Evelyn thanked Isabel and Crissy for the warm-up and ushered them both off the stage. Now I felt sorry for Crissy. The whole thing had been a little humiliating. But she’d seemed so smug about her little performance that my sympathy quickly evaporated.
“That was really desperate,” Sean said. “I kind of feel weird about being here for it.”
“I know.”
“Remember when I had a crush on her?”
“I have to look back in time for that?” I said. “Don’t you still have a crush on her?”
“Not any longer. I had a crush on three-months-ago Crissy Derrick. This Crissy Derrick is someone else altogether.”
The rehearsal that afternoon was a mess. We were supposed to run through two of my scenes, leading to the next section of the opera. But everything seemed to go wrong at once.
First of all, the costume felt strange. It bit into me when I tried to sing. I actually squeaked a couple of times. Eventually, Amanda came over and sat beside me.
“What’s going on, Hailey?”
“Sorry,” I said. I didn’t want to make excuses. That wasn’t part of the job.
“Is it the dress? Are you feeling okay today?”
“Can we skip over my scene for now?” I asked.
“We need to see the flow from one section to the next, Hailey. We need to make sure everything is coherent.”
I glanced out into the hall and spotted Crissy standing in front of the first row, her hands behind her back. She widened her eyes at me as I spotted her.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Let’s try again.”
Amanda gave my shoulder a squeeze and stood. “Let’s try it again,” she called to Evelyn.
The orchestra resumed. I looked directly at Crissy as I began. Her posture remained the same until about the halfway point of the scene.
I was singing well. I hadn’t made any squeaks or really faltered in any way. And as she watched me, Crissy’s shoulders dropped. Her knees bent slightly. When I finished and the cast for the next scene came onto the stage, Crissy just stayed there. Not moving. Not even shifting.
I slipped between the curtains to the wings and found myself in the darkness. The orchestra moved on to the next piece. I looked out at the audience. Crissy was still standing there, her hands behind her back, her chin held high, and for some reason, she was smiling.
Twelve
W e were given a break over the weekend. I slept in hard on Saturday morning and didn’t bother to check my phone until the middle of the afternoon. When I finally turned it on, I was seriously surprised to find a text from Crissy.
“This is bizarre,” Sean said.
“You don’t say.”
“What are they doing?”
“Performing?” I said. Crissy looked happier than I had seen her in weeks. She sounded great as well.
I knew she was trying to show me up—I could tell by the look on her face. She was trying to prove that she was the better singer. That the chemistry between her and Isabel was something astounding. But I wanted to let them finish. I thought that maybe if Crissy could sing to an empty room, she would feel better.
“Why are you standing here?” Sean said. “You need to get up there.”
“I want her to finish.”
“Why?” he said.
“Because she needs it. And what can it hurt?”
It appeared, as the orchestra was finishing its preparations, that no one was paying Crissy and Isabel any attention at all. When they were done, Isabel took a step back and clapped. She probably thought other people would join in. Crissy bowed. Someone in the orchestra clapped too, but it died out quickly, leaving Crissy bowing to a complete lack of applause.
Evelyn thanked Isabel and Crissy for the warm-up and ushered them both off the stage. Now I felt sorry for Crissy. The whole thing had been a little humiliating. But she’d seemed so smug about her little performance that my sympathy quickly evaporated.
“That was really desperate,” Sean said. “I kind of feel weird about being here for it.”
“I know.”
“Remember when I had a crush on her?”
“I have to look back in time for that?” I said. “Don’t you still have a crush on her?”
“Not any longer. I had a crush on three-months-ago Crissy Derrick. This Crissy Derrick is someone else altogether.”
The rehearsal that afternoon was a mess. We were supposed to run through two of my scenes, leading to the next section of the opera. But everything seemed to go wrong at once.
First of all, the costume felt strange. It bit into me when I tried to sing. I actually squeaked a couple of times. Eventually, Amanda came over and sat beside me.
“What’s going on, Hailey?”
“Sorry,” I said. I didn’t want to make excuses. That wasn’t part of the job.
“Is it the dress? Are you feeling okay today?”
“Can we skip over my scene for now?” I asked.
“We need to see the flow from one section to the next, Hailey. We need to make sure everything is coherent.”
I glanced out into the hall and spotted Crissy standing in front of the first row, her hands behind her back. She widened her eyes at me as I spotted her.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Let’s try again.”
Amanda gave my shoulder a squeeze and stood. “Let’s try it again,” she called to Evelyn.
The orchestra resumed. I looked directly at Crissy as I began. Her posture remained the same until about the halfway point of the scene.
I was singing well. I hadn’t made any squeaks or really faltered in any way. And as she watched me, Crissy’s shoulders dropped. Her knees bent slightly. When I finished and the cast for the next scene came onto the stage, Crissy just stayed there. Not moving. Not even shifting.
I slipped between the curtains to the wings and found myself in the darkness. The orchestra moved on to the next piece. I looked out at the audience. Crissy was still standing there, her hands behind her back, her chin held high, and for some reason, she was smiling.
Twelve
W e were given a break over the weekend. I slept in hard on Saturday morning and didn’t bother to check my phone until the middle of the afternoon. When I finally turned it on, I was seriously surprised to find a text from Crissy.
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