The Right Note Page 5

  After a hearty round of applause, Asher returns to his seat. Then he bumps shoulders with Ryan and sneers, “Nice knowing you.”

  “Certainly was,” Ryan sing-songs in reply. He bows dramatically, then runs down to the stage. I grin. This is the Ryan I’m used to, I think.

  In the moment before the song starts, silence rules over the stage. Ryan adjusts his stance and stretches his fingers over his sampler’s keyboard. I see him take a breath. Then the speakers spark to life.

  Ryan’s voice starts off a little shaky, but by the next verse he belts out the notes without a single mistake. Unlike Asher’s version of the song, Ryan’s is full of passion. He adds flourish by singing runs of notes while slamming the keys. He stomps in rhythm with the beat and swings his arms as he hits the harder notes.

  At the end of the song, the instrumentals die off, and Ryan is left to sing the final lines by himself. He settles in the center of the stage, pulls the microphone close to his mouth, and holds the last note. As it echoes through the theater, he reaches into his pocket and hurls a fistful of glitter into the air.

  Everyone gasps. The glitter sparkles like stars. Ryan closes his eyes and lets it fall onto him. The applause that follows is deafening. The judges even stand up as they clap. Peter, Ryan’s vocal trainer, beams with pride.

  “What an out of this world performance!” Tix cries. “From a musician who was once scared to sing to a true artist. This is the kind of transformation made possible by The Right Note.”

  I lean back in my seat, letting Tix’s words soak in. Ryan really has come a long way. Whether motivated by the risk of elimination or the emotional roller coaster before the show, he sang like he never has before.

  The judges call Asher back down from his seat. Their decision is swift and easy. Ryan outshines Asher by a long shot. Asher gapes with shock when they tell him he’s the one going home. He casts one final glance up at me and Lark, and then descends from the stage.

  ***

  That evening, Ryan and I walk along the ocean shore at sunset just like we did a month ago. It’s colder tonight, and not even dog walkers join us. Only the gulls and the waves are here.

  Things are still tense between us, but we both want to make it better. Ryan lets me talk first. “After you said those things about me, I wanted you to apologize,” I say. “You said you were just ‘playing the game,’ but I didn’t get why you couldn’t play the game differently.”

  Ryan stares out at the water. I can tell he’s not happy with what I said, but he’s not denying it either. I take a deep breath and continue, “And then, things got . . . I don’t know. We started competing against each other for real. Trying to get rid of each other instead of trying to help each other.”

  “I felt like you were abandoning me for Lark,” Ryan says. “I wanted to do whatever it took to stay in the running. I had to get better at singing, or else I was worried you’d choose her instead of me.”

  I laugh. “Seeing you get better at singing made me worry you’d want to become a solo artist.” I nudge his elbow with mine. “And then what would you need me for?”

  “No one else has your voice, Eve.”

  “And no one else can be my best friend, Ryan,” I say, smiling at him.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too.” Ryan and I hug, and just like that everything is forgiven. We’re a duo, after all.

  Chapter

  13

  Our final week in California flies by faster than a pop song. After Asher’s elimination, one of the other guys from his and Ryan’s band gets eliminated in the next round. Ryan and I grab each other’s arms and jump together in celebration. We’re the only duo to survive to the final four. Just like that, it’s time for the final performance where the judges choose a winner.

  “It’s time to prepare for the final round!” Tix tells us. “You have twenty-four hours.”

  As the camera crews begin to wrap up, I pull Lark aside. I tell her that while I don’t like that she lied to me, I understand that she thought she was helping me and I forgive her. She just gives me a sad smile.

  Cassandra and I train one-on-one the next morning. She leans in close, and the camera leans in even closer. I don’t even blink. “Let’s hear that scale,” she instructs.

  I go through the motions.

  “That’s the best you can do?” She winks.

  I grin mischievously. “You might want to back up,” I tell the cameraman. He raises his eyebrows like he doesn’t believe me but takes a step back.

  I take a deep breath and sing. I put all my love for music into my voice. The notes flow out of me like a river, flooding the room and washing over Cassandra.

  “Wow,” she says when I finish the scale. “You’ve found your passion, Eve.”

  “Really?”

  Cassandra nods. “All season you’ve been getting better and stronger. I could feel the stress and anger in your voice. Those emotions motivated you to improve, but you still couldn’t break free. What you needed was love and peace. Where did you find it?”

  I think back to my first session with Cassandra, when I couldn’t blow her away with my voice. “Ryan,” I tell her. “Being with him drives me to be the best musician I can.”

  Cassandra folds her hands in her lap. “At first I thought you were relying on him too much. But I understand now it wasn’t reliance but connection. Music should bring people together out of joy and love.”

  “Thanks for everything, Cassandra,” I say.

  As I exit the room, I pass by Lark. I wish her good luck. But she’s never had any trouble finding her own passion. She’ll blow Cassandra away on the first try.

  ***

  When I round the corner and make it back out to the lobby of the studio, I get a huge surprise: my parents! I sprint into their arms, only now realizing how much I miss them. They explain that they flew out to watch me perform in the final four.

  “Ryan’s parents are here too,” my mom says. “We’ll sit next to them and cheer you both on.”

  Just like back home. The thought of my parents screaming like teenagers in the crowd makes me laugh and calms my nerves. But then I remember they’ve never seen me perform without Ryan by my side. I wonder how much of our conflict will make it into the final cut of the show.

  Then I get an idea. If Ryan and Asher could bend the rules with a sudden death sing-off, maybe I can too. I tell my parents I have to go back to rehearsal and escape into the depths of the studio, hunting for the white-blond, chattery head of Blair.

  ***

  Rainbow lights bloom over the stage like sunflowers, illuminating the theater with every color imaginable. Theme music blasts over the speakers as the cameras swoop down from the ceiling, getting shots of the screaming audience and the stern judges. Then a camera drops down over the stage and sweeps across from left to right, capturing the faces of the final four contestants: Lark, Jasper, Ryan, and me.

  Tix comes out from the side of the stage. He wears his trademark glittery suit, which shines almost as much as his bald head.

  “Welcome, everyone!” he cries. “Welcome to the final episode of this season of The Right Note. This past month, we’ve seen sixteen talented teens compete for these final four spots. The victors stand before you tonight. We have the duo who made it to the end, Eve Hardt and Ryan Okri! The underdog who made a huge comeback, Jasper Ishikawa! And, last but not least, Lark Pelletier!

  “These four will be competing for the grand prize—a record deal with Wild Hill Studio. Who will be the next winner of The Right Note? Let’s find out!”

  The audience goes nuts. I spy my parents waving at me from the front row, just to the right of the judges’ table. My heart swells.

  Lark will be singing first. Jasper, Ryan, and I climb to our seats to watch her. She readies herself in the center of the stage, carrying an acoustic guitar.

  The background noise of the audience dies down. She takes a huge breath. Then she strums a few chords on the guitar. I recogniz
e the song at once: it’s the same one Cassandra performed during her own final round. A winner’s song.

  Lark opens her mouth. The music that comes out of her sounds as naturally beautiful as birdsong. The spotlights move slowly. Calm fills the theater, as if everyone is holding their breath.

  After the first few verses, she plays the guitar faster and louder and sings harder to match it. She stares directly into the camera, her eyes burning intensely. Her voice quivers with emotion. The final note fills the room.

  Then she drops her head, closes her mouth, and quiets the guitar. Entranced with the magic of her performance, it takes a few seconds for the audience to react. Their applause rolls over her like thunder. She looks up, as if awakening from a long slumber. She bows gracefully. At the judges’ table, Cassandra wipes her eyes.

  Next up is Jasper. As he rocks out his rendition of an Elvis Presley song, I lean over to Lark and congratulate her on her own performance. She shrugs, fighting back a smile.

  Ryan taps the railing of the catwalk to the beat of Jasper’s song. I nudge him, and he jolts. “You ready to rock?” I ask him.

  “More than ready,” he grins back.

  Jasper finishes, and his chest heaves as he catches his breath and wipes the sweat from his forehead. The judges clap.

  It’s time to take to the stage for my final performance. I start down the stairs, Ryan on my heels. His hand rests on my shoulder in reassurance.

  Tix walks out to the center of the stage. “As you all know,” he says. “This season of The Right Note had a special theme of ‘teamwork.’ We took duos from all over the country, split them up, and pitted them against each other. Tonight, we’re going to bring one of those duos back together. Two of the final four contestants will compete as one.”

  The audience hushes in anticipation of the announcement.

  “Please welcome Eve and Ryan to the stage!”

  We race out to the cheers of the crowds. I lift my guitar over my head in response. When the applause finally dies down and Tix steps out of the view of the cameras, we begin.

  The performance starts with my soft, clear voice. I look right into the camera centered over the judges’ heads, which eyes us like a fifth judge. Ryan plays long chords on his sampler to underscore my voice. The sound builds and builds until it’s ready to break.

  I launch into playing loud, rocking guitar. Ryan pounds at his sampler in response to me, playing notes that flow with the sound. The strings of my guitar vibrate in tune with my voice, then Ryan’s. Our different styles step into sync.

  Then we do something we’ve never done before. I lean in close to the microphone. Ryan leans in too. Inches away from each other, we harmonize the final verses as a duet.

  Our music cascades over the audience. They raise their hands and call out in time with us. I grin at Ryan, and he grins at me. Our love for music makes us shine bright. We don’t need a record deal with Wild Hill Studio to share that love with people. And we don’t need a reality TV show to tell us how to really play our music. We truly are the best partners for each other.

  When our final performance comes to an end, I give Ryan a huge hug. The audience’s applause is deafening. Tix returns to the stage to banish us to the catwalk, where all four of the contestants have to wait for the judges to decide on the winner.

  My heart pounds as I ascend the stairs. Every sound in the room echoes in my ears. I hear the judges whispering and scratching their papers with their pens. I hear the murmuring of the audience. The whirring of the cameras. The heartbeats of Ryan, Lark, and Jasper as we await the judges’ decision.

  After what feels like an entire lifetime, Tix calls us all back down. We line up against the curtain again.

  I squeeze Ryan’s hand.

  Tix spreads his arms.

  “And the winner of The Right Note is . . .”

  Chapter

  14

  “Lark Pelletierrrrr!”

  Lark falls to her knees, her eyes wide in shock. The judges embrace her as shimmering confetti shoots out of cannons on either side of the stage. Color and light swirl around us. Ryan turns to me and I hug him. The last footage of The Right Note concludes with a shot of all of us—the contestants, judges, and Tix—on the stage surrounded by the sparkling bits of paper.

  Once we get outside of the studio, my parents express their frustration with the results. “It should have been you! What are they thinking?” my mom grumbles.

  “It’s okay,” I say, patting them on their shoulders. “I’m ready to go home.”

  They climb into a taxi with all my luggage and head to the airport. I’ll join them shortly for the trip home. But first I say my goodbyes to Blair, who hugs me with tears in her eyes. Then Cassandra, who tells me she can’t wait to listen to the first album Ryan and I put out there. And finally, Lark. I find her on the steps leading up to the back door of the studio, staring at the certificate declaring her the winner of The Right Note.

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask, startling her.

  She folds the certificate in half. “Avoiding the reporters. They all want to interview me.”

  “Don’t you want to be on TV?”

  She snorts.

  I sit down next to her. “Congratulations, by the way. You deserve it.”

  “We all deserved it,” she says. “You especially, Eve. You’re one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. You could stay here in California. We could make an album together.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Lark, but I think I need to take a break from all of this for a while.” I touch her shoulder as I get up. “I’ll keep my eye out for your name on the charts.”

  Out in front of the building, I meet up with Ryan. The taxi pulls up moments later and we take off, leaving the giant glass studio behind.

  ***

  A knock sounds at the front door. I groan, drop my biology textbook onto my bed, and then head downstairs to tell yet another reporter that I’m done giving interviews. Ever since I got back from California, reporter after reporter has wanted to talk to me about the show. I’ve had enough of TV and being forced into a false reality just to drive up ratings. They all ask the same questions: “What was it like being on the stage? What was your judge Cassandra like in person? What about Tix?”

  Sometimes they ask about me about Ryan, “What was it like having to compete against him? Are you two in a band again?” But the worst one is, “Is he your boyfriend?” I shut the door in their face if they ask me that.

  The truth is, I haven’t seen much of Ryan since we’ve gotten home. With all the make-up work for school I have to do, there hasn’t been any time to play music. I hum to myself quietly as I study—not even my parents hear me.

  As I turn the doorknob, I prepare to tell whatever reporter is waiting outside to get lost.

  But it isn’t a reporter standing on my front steps. It’s Ryan.

  He runs a hand through his now-pink hair nervously. “Hey. Is this a bad time?”

  I shake my head and relax into a smile. “No, I was just studying. What’s up?”

  He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a crumpled envelope. “Guess what this is.”

  “Your report card?” I ask, jokingly.

  “It’s an invitation to play at the city arts festival this summer.” Ryan breaks into a huge grin. “They want us to headline the concert. As a duo. What do you say?”

  “We’d have to start getting ready now,” I say, observing the date written on the invitation. It’s only one month away. “I don’t know, Ryan. I still have a ton of homework.”

  “Me too. But I can’t stand it anymore. I have to sing or I’ll lose my mind. Don’t you feel that way too?”

  “Maybe a little bit.”

  “Also,” he says, unfolding the letter. He points at a line of text on the paper. “It’s totally unplugged. That means no electronics allowed. No phones, no electric instruments—”

  “No cameras,” I muse.

  “It’d be just us and th
e stage.”

  I glance over my shoulder, thinking about all the homework still waiting for me. With a mischievous smile I reply, “Okay. Just one song.”

  About the Author

  D. A. Graham divides his time between writing and wishing he was writing. He lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota, with his boyfriend and an assortment of foster cats.