Slammed (Slammed #1)(68)
"I would like to perform a piece I wrote," I say into the microphone. My voice is steady, but my heart is about to jump out of my chest. I can't turn back now. I have to do this. "I know this isn't standard protocol, but it's an emergency," I say.
Laughter overcomes the audience. The rumble of the crowd is loud, causing me to freeze at the thought of what I'm about to do. I start to have second thoughts and turn around to the emcee but he nudges me back and gives me the go ahead.
I place the microphone in the stand and position it down to my height. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I begin.
"Three dollars!" someone yells from the audience.
I open my eyes and realize I haven't paid my fee yet. I frantically dig my hands in my pockets and pull out a five dollar bill and walk it over to the emcee.
I return to the microphone and close my eyes.
"My piece is called-"
Someone's tapping me on the shoulder. I open my eyes and turn around to see the emcee holding two one-dollar bills up.
"Your change," he says.
I take the money and put it back in my pocket. He's still standing there.
"Go!" I whisper through clenched teeth.
He stammers and walks off the stage.
Once again, I turn toward the microphone and begin to speak. "My piece is called Schooled," I say into the microphone. My voice is shaking, so I take a few deep breaths. I just hope I can remember it, I re-wrote a few lines on the way here. I inhale one last time and begin.
I got schooled this year.
By everyone.
By my little brother…
by The Avett Brothers…
by my mother, my best friend, my teacher, my father,
and
by
a
boy.
a boy that I'm seriously, deeply, madly, incredibly, and undeniably in love with…
I got so schooled this year.
By a nine-year-old.
He taught me that it's okay to live life
a little backwards.
And how to laugh
At what you would think
is un-laughable.
I got schooled this year
By a Band!
They taught me how to find that feeling of feeling again.
They taught me how to decide what to be
And go be it.
I got schooled this year.
By a cancer patient.
She taught me so much. She's still teaching me so much.
She taught me to question.
To never regret.
She taught me to push my boundaries,
Because that's what they're there for.
She told me to find a balance between head and heart
And then
she taught me how…
I got schooled this year
By a Foster Kid
She taught me to respect the hand that I was dealt.
And to be grateful I was even dealt a hand.
She taught me that family
Doesn't have to be blood.
Sometimes your family
are your friends.
I got schooled this year
By my teacher
He taught me
That the points are not the point,
The point is poetry…
I got schooled this year
By my father.
He taught me that hero's aren't always invincible
And that the magic
is within me..
I got schooled this year
by
a
Boy.
a boy that I'm seriously, deeply, madly, incredibly, and undeniably in love with.
And he taught me the most important thing of all…
To put the emphasis
On life.
The feeling that comes over you, when you're in front of an audience? All those people craving for your words, yearning to see a glimpse into your soul…it's exhilarating. I thrust the microphone back into the emcee's hands and run off the stage. I look around but don't see him anywhere. I look at the booth we sat in on our first date, but it's empty. I realize, after standing there, waiting to be swept off of my feet-that he's not even here. I spin around in a circle, scanning the room a second time. A third time. He's not here.
The same fleeting feeling I had on that stage, on his dryer, in the booth in the back of the room-it's gone. I can't do it again. I want to run. I need air. I need to feel the Michigan air against my face.
I throw open the door and take a step outside when a voice, amplified through the speakers, stops me in my tracks.
"That's not a good idea," he says into the microphone. I recognize his voice, and that repetitive phrase.
I slowly turn around and face the stage. Will is standing there, holding the microphone between his hands, looking directly at me.
"You shouldn't leave before you get your scores," he says as he motions to the judges table. I follow his gaze to the judges who are all turned around in their seats. All four of them have their eyes locked on me; the fifth seat is empty. I gasp as I realize Will was the fifth judge.
So he saw me. He watched me do my piece.
I sense that I'm floating again as I make my way to the center of the room. Everyone is quiet. I look around and all eyes are on me. No one understands what's happening. I'm not so sure I even understand what's happening.
Will looks at the emcee standing next to him. "I'd like to perform a piece. It's an emergency," he says.