Page 7 of Grown

“What are you singing for us tonight?”

“Beyoncé’s ‘Halo.’”

“OK, ma, let’s hear it!”

Amber nods at the soundman, and the beat thumps into the speakers. The crowd claps along. Amber grabs the mic, closing her eyes.

“Remember those walls I built

Well, baby, they tumbling down...”

Her voice is... majestic. A blend of sweet with sharp edges. A voice made for the stage. I slump lower in my seat, nerves firing into my stomach.

“Mom,” I squeak. “Mom, we should go.”

But Mom can’t hear me, too hypnotized by Amber’s skin sparkling like moondust under the stage lights. I’m never going to sound as good as her. Or look as good as her. I slip on my hoodie and grab my book bag. If I leave now, Mom can just meet me at the car.

I rise to my feet as chaos erupts by the door. A cloud of burly linemen dressed in black piles in, surrounding something... or someone. The person, dressed in a white hooded sweat suit, stops in the middle of the aisle.

As the stranger pulls back his hoodie, a shriek erupts from the crowd. “Oh my GOD! Korey Fields!”

Korey Fields’s megawatt smile lights up the room. He walks with a slight bop in his step down to the judges’ table. He givesRichie a pound, and they exchange a few words, oblivious to the excitement that has taken over the theater. Onstage, Amber finishes her song but stands shell-shocked.

“Wow, Chanty,” Mom shouts, clapping. “Korey Fields!”

I’m speechless. This was supposed to be a simple audition. First the crowd, now Korey Freaking Fields... all here to see me make a fool out of myself.

“Mom, let’s go before...”

“Next up... Enchanted Jones!”

Chapter 4

Heart Song

My name booms over the loudspeaker. Too loud to ignore.

“OK, Chanty, you’re up! Good luck, baby!”

Mom kisses my cheek and pats me on the butt. The entire theater turns in my direction. I swallow and head for the stage.

Korey sits behind Richie, surrounded by his entourage, at least a dozen people, while the audience elbows over each other to grab pictures. They don’t even notice me take the stage. I’m invisible—how I always feel.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Richie says.

“Hello,” I croak out, and the mic delivers feedback. “Um. I’m... uh, my name is Enchanted.”

“Yes, we already know your name. What are you singing for us today?”

“Oh! Um, ‘If I Were Your Woman’ by Gladys Knight.”

Korey’s eyes lock on me. He’s like a large moon in a starless sky.

Richie frowns. “Hmm?” The judges look at one another, unsure, then shrug. “OK, let’s see what you got!”

I nod at the soundman.

The chords ring in, the crowd silent. I start to sing, keeping a running checklist of all the performance notes I learned on YouTube: