All Out of Faith

Hamlet: Denmark’s a prison.

Rosencrantz: Then is the world one?

Hamlet: A goodly one; in which there are many confines,
wards and dungeons, Denmark being one o' the worst.

Rosencrantz: We think not so, my lord.

Hamlet: Why, then, 'tis none to you; for there is nothing
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me
it is a prison.

My knees were curled up to my chest, one arm around them with fingertips picking at the hemline of my jeans. My other hand held the play tightly in its grip, my eyes scanning over the words hungrily as I’d read them only about fifty-seven times before. For there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

My favorite line, of any of his writing. It was a quote I kept close to me. But then again, Shakespeare was with me at all times; I rarely left the house without one of his pieces. Today, though, while waiting for my dad as he took care of work in the city, I’d needed to leave the motel room - my audition was tomorrow, and I already knew I wouldn’t be sleeping. I would be auditioning for The X-Factor here in Manchester… I’d be singing in front of so, so many people. Three of whom could give me a yes. A yes that could change my life completely.

The thought alone was enough to make me tremble like a leaf.

Just to keep the nerves down, I’d come to the library. I needed time to sit in Shakespeare’s world. Hamlet’s world.

Denmark may have been a prison to him, but for me, it was an incredible escape.

The library doors clanged loudly open, and I jumped, startled, in my seat in the corner of the warm reading area. My eyes shot up above the top of the book, my brows furrowing as they landed on the boy that’d pushed through those doors. He was sheepish, looking around to make sure he hadn’t bothered anyone; he was apologetic as his gaze met fleetingly with mine. He blushed and mouthed a small, “Sorry.”

I shook my head and tried to manage a small smile, though I have a feeling he didn’t see a bit of it. I was still hidden for the most part behind my play.

Well, at least, the library’s copy of it. My three were all at home in High Wycombe, a small, beautiful English town just an hour and a bit outside of London.

The boy smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He ducked his head and turned, disappearing behind the first row of book shelves. I bit down onto my bottom lip, feeling my stomach turn as I thought about how cute he was. I sunk slightly down into the small, cushy chair I was sat in, dipping my head. His dimples were absolutely gorgeous.

I sighed and refocused my attention on Hamlet. The man and all of his problems somehow made mine seem so minimal. I groaned internally as I was reminded of having to sing tomorrow. There were very few people I’d ever sung in front of. Why I’d had the gall to apply for this competition was beyond me.

Well, no, I knew exactly why I had signed up. But I would never admit it out loud.

All I could say for myself was that it was about home. High Wycombe in all of its glory felt so far away, back down south of Manchester.

I loved home, though our side of it could sometimes be a bit dodgy. Regardless, it was home, and it was where I had a small reading nook in the back of the house. My father and brother always knew to leave me to it when I was in there. A safe haven of my own.

I was pulled once again from my rambling thoughts by the boy who’d barged into the library only moments ago, his arms now wrapped overwhelmingly around a large stack of heavy books. His smile was soft and apologetic as he leant over in front of me, his hand turning from the backs of the books to gently nudge my play down from in front of me.

I stayed quiet as I looked up, meeting his eyes. Oh my god. They were… Beautiful. A jade green that was endless, full of so many emotions I found myself struggling to read him. But above everything, they were kind, and he opened his mouth to speak. I was lost in his gaze.

“I’m really sorry to interrupt,” he whispered, “But have you by chance seen the librarian…? I don’t have much time to get these…” I slowly nodded my head, my lips forming into a subtle grin as I carefully bookmarked Hamlet and set him down onto the table. His lips were unusually pink, and I forced myself to focus enough to respond. His beautiful accent, one that was somehow even thicker than mine, had put me in a trance.

“Not to worry,” I murmured softly, clearing my throat. I could feel my cheeks tinting pink; I was painfully shy and he was making this impossible. “I’m sure she’s ‘round.” I went to stand up beside him, and he bit his lip, his hand out to help me. I couldn’t help but giggle to myself - his arms were full of books and he was still trying to help me to my feet. “Thank you, I’m alright,” I said softly through a laugh, hiding my face from him as I stood and led him around the bookshelves to the circulation desk.

I quietly rung the bell that was on the desk, turning to face the boy as he stood behind me, waiting patiently. He smiled softly at me, and I felt my stomach do a flip. There was something so genuine about him.

I let my eyes wander briefly over him as he looked around me, waiting for the librarian. He had on a grey cardigan and baggy jeans, coupled with a knit beanie that hid away most of his hair. Some of it, though, fought its way from the edges of the beanie; gorgeous, chocolate curls that framed his face perfectly. The books he held were all on vocal training; as if he was doing some kind of exam cram before -

Oh.

I turned to him and bit my lip; did I really wanna ask this? If he was auditioning for X-Factor, too? What if he was already a singer? I blushed as he caught my gaze glued to him. “You alright?” he asked in a hushed whisper. I smiled and nodded, quickly turning away before I could see the realization pour onto his face that I’d possibly, maybe, sort of been checking him (and apparently his books) out.

The librarian finally stepped out from the back room with a grin on her face, “Sorry, loves, give me just a moment.” The boy behind me stepped forward, smiling his thanks to me and setting his books with a huff onto the counter.

I turned to step away, figuring that I’d done what he’d asked, when soft - oh my god, they were so soft - fingers slid their way gently around my wrist. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, his hand darting back to his side as I turned to face him with a surprised expression on my face. “I just uhm… I didn’t get your name…?”

If my cheeks weren’t pink before, they were bright red now. I giggled softly and looked down at the floor, my hand wrapping around my opposite arm as I bounced on the balls of my feet. “I’m Sierra,” I said quietly, biting down onto my bottom lip and letting my gaze move back up to meet his. His lips were curled into a wide smile as he nodded.

“I’m Harry,” he replied quietly. I let go of my lip from my teeth and nodded, now being extremely awkward - so, so painfully awkward - as I didn’t know what to do next. Was this where I asked for a way to stay in touch, because he seemed nice? Or was that too forward? Too weird? “It was lovely to meet yo-” he started, his hand moving out as if to shake mine, when suddenly, his elbow and arm very successfully ran into three of the five large books he’d set on the edge of the counter, all of them immediately toppling forward.

He threw himself forward, clumsily grabbing at the falling books and managing to catch two as I lurched forward, too, trying to help. We were both giggling, though I think I was having more fun with it than he was - he was blushing so hard I thought his skin might just stay red permanently.

I laughed softly as I helped him shuffle around, lifting the books back up and onto the counter. The librarian smiled kindly and chuckled at the both of us, taking the books and preparing to check them out to him. “I - I uhm,” he stuttered cutely. He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”

I smiled genuinely, realizing he’d managed to make me forget my nerves about tomorrow completely. “You’re very welcome,” I said quietly, “Harry, right?” He nodded his head and turned to set both hands carefully on the books the librarian hadn’t yet grabbed, leaning into the counter as smoothly as he could.

“I should… Get back to it,” I said, pointing over to Hamlet. The poor prince was probably feeling abandoned.

Harry quickly nodded his head, smiling widely at me as I turned and padded shyly back to Hamlet. As I curled back up into the corner of the big, comfy chair, lifting the play into my hands and trying to find my place once again, I could hear Harry thanking the librarian over and over again. He was syrupy sweet. I reached up and tucked some of my long, dark brown hair behind my ear, watching as he carried his books and receipt with him toward the library’s front doors.

He turned to me, smiling widely and waving from the bottoms of the books. “Bye, Sierra,” he whisper-yelled across the library, earning a wide smile in return from me and a loud, “SHH!” from at least two different patrons in the library. He made the most adorable, well-excuuuse-me facial expression I’d ever seen, turning quickly with his eyes still on me right up until the door closed behind him, and he was gone.

The library’s silence settled back in, the only sounds being the turning of worn pages and hard covers being slid back into their places on the shelves.

Minutes passed, and I was suddenly kicking myself for not having the guts to have asked for his email, or MySpace, or something. He was so cute.

But maybe, if I was lucky, he was here to audition, and I’d run into him before I left Manchester and the X-Factor completely.

Oh, god, I thought, The X-Factor.

For those few adorable minutes, he’d made me forget that I’d be singing on national television again. And the butterflies were invading my stomach, making my lungs start on overdrive and my heart pound in my chest. In less than twelve hours, it’d be past three in the morning and I would be getting ready to line up for the following day’s auditions.

I was so nervous, but it wasn’t going to be a bad thing. No.

Because, after all, there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

I was going to make this good.

-------

My breath was shaky, my heart was racing. It’d been so long since anyone had heard me sing. There were so many people here, and it was a little mind numbing. This is crazy, Seabird, I could hear my brother say. All I could think of was curling up into the window seat at home with a good book and a cup of cocoa, listening to soft music and just basking in the peace and quiet that my small nook offered me.

Instead, I was in a massive building, hours from home, surrounded by thousands of people in a city I’d never been in. Quite frankly, I’d never left home before at all. My nerves were shot as I peered around at all the other contestants. Suddenly, my mouth had gone dry, and it was all I could do not to break out of the chair I was sitting in and go running like a mad person through the halls and out of the massive studio’s front doors. Back to that library. Just run out of here and go back to reading Hamlet.

I was considering it seriously (very seriously) when a beautiful girl with long blonde hair and a bright smile plopped herself down into the seat next to me, appearing slightly out of breath and so excited the entire room seemed to brighten with her mood. She grinned widely over at me and I managed a small smile, still near to hyperventilation as I sat there in anxious waiting.

She offered me her water bottle, and my eyes met with it for only a moment. My mouth was indeed dry, and how she knew I needed water to calm down was beyond me, but regardless, I wasn’t going to question it. Sighing softly, I nodded gratefully and reached out, sheepishly taking the bottle and tipping it to my lips. God, it was refreshing. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the water running down my throat, letting the coolness of it wash over my nerves as well.

We introduced ourselves, her name was Lola, and she asked me what my song was. The truth was, as I looked at her, I still did not know. There were two songs I’d prepared. I’d given them the one I didn’t want to perform.

The song meant everything to me. It was a song my brother sang to me, and his voice was always the most beautiful sound. It was soothing and calming and promising. Every good memory I had came back to the moments when he’d sing this song to me, his fingers running through my hair and his arms holding me close. I trusted no one quite as much as I trusted Joey.

But I kept telling myself I needed to sing something else, something less personal. I couldn’t bear to hear a ‘no’ on a song like this. I needed to sing something more… girly, perhaps more modern and contemporary. But singing a Natasha Bedingfield track would’ve been empty. I knew that much.

So instead of giving her an answer, I just grinned and said, “Top secret.” I was really trying to push down the nerves, and her outwardly friendly personality was a very helpful distraction. Nevertheless, I was tightly hugging my middle, watching the door that led to the side of the huge X-Factor stage.

This was insane.

We sat in quiet anxiety for several more minutes, watching as other contestants filled the small waiting room. They let everyone in in batches, and I smiled nervously as my eyes landed on a cherub-cheeked blonde boy, his smile wide as his teeth chewed nervously away at his nails. I immediately cast my eyes away from him, knowing I felt just as anxious as he did.

What would I do if it was a ‘no’?

No, Sierra, you’re fine. It will probably be a no. Just be proud of yourself that you got here, that you’re doing this at all.

The words swirled around in my head. I assured myself that there were far more chances for a no than a yes. I would be okay. Everything would be okay.

“Okay, let’s have 160457 through 160460.” Lola and I turned to look to our left and right, but the other two in that list weren’t anywhere to be seen. I breathed in slowly and stood with Lola.

“You ready?” she asked, her voice chipper but waivering. I cleared my throat and shook my head, answering honestly.

“Not at all.” With a giggle at my answer, she tugged me by my arm through the doors, following the guy that’d called us up through to side stage. Men with a couple of cameras walked around, preparing to film us before we went on.

My dad was somewhere in the audience, probably tired, though I knew he was excited to see me perform. All I cared about was that Joey would be watching, seeing me sing. With that thought, I excused myself from the small group of people, finding a quiet corner and closing my eyes.

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so. There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so…” I whispered breathlessly to myself, trying desperately to calm down as my fingertips found the necklace that rested between my collarbones. I gripped the small pendant, a beautiful little sparrow, tightly between my fingertips, bringing it to my mouth and kissing the metal as I whispered, “I miss you, Joey. Wish you were here.”

I knew he wanted to be, but he just couldn’t this time around. But he was always my number one fan. So I knew he’d be rooting for me.

I breathed out as my name was called. “Sweetie, are you Sierra Pearce?” the man from before asked, bringing me back to Earth. I turned to face him, smiling softly.

“Yessir,” I said nervously, letting my necklace slip back underneath my top. “Okay, well, how are you feeling?” He grinned at me. The cameras rolled. Inside I was panicking, but I held it in, smiling at him and answering his questions.

Once they’d finished the short interview, they nudged me forward. “Alright, that’s you! Good luck.”

“Go, Sierra!!” Lola grinned widely from beside me. I couldn’t help but laugh slightly at her excitement, her eyes wide and hands clapping together for me. She hardly knew me, but she was so excited - how was she so nice?

I turned and took the mic they handed me, nearly tripping over my feet at least three different times as I neared the stage.

And then I was on the stage.

Cameras everywhere. Faces as far as I could see, people smiling and curious and anxious to see how I’d perform. Would I be good? Talented? Terrible? Hilariously bad?

Frankly, I was wondering all the same things. My fingertips clung tightly to the microphone, and my eyes dodged from side to side.

My brows furrowed, though, as my eyes caught a group of contestants on the other side of the stage, all hidden away and watching me as well. My eyes widened as I saw the adorable boy from the library yesterday; Harry. I didn’t even have time to fully take in the fact that he was there, my mouth taking the lead for me and answering Simon’s question without my mind quite knowing what was happening.

“I’m Sierra,” I mumbled, clearing my throat and trying to speak up, “Sierra Pearce.”

He nodded slowly, and there was something I felt I could trust about him. Simon may have been known for his brutal honesty, but looking at him just then, I trusted him.

No matter his answer, I trusted his judgment, and I think that made this better. Somehow.

Regardless, I could feel my palms sweating rivers. Real rivers.

“Alright, and why don’t you tell us something about yourself, Sierra?” He grinned up at me, albeit subtly, and I found myself clinging to the microphone as if it could fly me out of there if need be.

“I…” I turned, my eyes once again catching Harry. But this time he was looking at me, and his smile was so wide I was afraid it would break his face. He suddenly waved, knowing he had but a second with my attention on him, both hands going up in two thumbs ups that were more enthusiastic than any I’d ever seen. I let out a laugh, and the entire audience watched me being a fool as I turned in embarrassed shame to face Simon. He cleared his throat, and I saw a cameraman step onto the stage.

Oh, God, I thought to myself, And now the entire world knows I was looking at another contestant instead of answering Simon..

“I’m uhm, I’m fifteen, but I’ll be sixteen in just over a month, and I’m uhm… I’m from High Wycombe. I read a lot, and I help at the stables in my free time.” Simon smiled and nodded.

“Well, let’s find out if they’ll be needing to hire new help at the stables, hm?” he asked with an encouraging raise of his brow. I quickly nodded. Was I ready? Not at all.

“I’ll be singin’ Vienna, by Billy Joel,” I responded, getting nods from the judges. I could feel my new friends’ gazes on me; Harry to my right, and the sunshiney Lola to my left.

Somewhere out in the crowd was my father, and as the music began, and the first few notes left my lips, I felt everything around me slow. My heart calmed.

And this is why I was here; singing took it all away. All the nerves, the madness, the shyness. When I sang, I was me, and all of the anxiety in my head floated off.

Hamlet’s words played in my head as the song flowed from me, and I knew this was what I wanted. God… I wanted it. So, so bad.

And now was the time that I’d find out if I’d ever have it.