Even After Everything

The day of the recital comes altogether too quickly. But isn’t that the way? I should have thought of something I really wanted to do afterwards, and it would have slogged by like every other goddamn day of the year.

I wake up at ten and pace my room, occasionally flicking looks at my painting. I had been doing this for the past three days - taking out my paints and correcting the most minute detail, settling back happily for five minutes before realising that it still wasn’t him. Still didn’t have that look.

As a representation of a face, it was perfect. As a representation of him - it was a disappointment. But still, it distracted me and passed the time until I finally had to change into my grey smock dress and bum a lift into Shrewsbury.

I found Charlotte waiting for me where she said she would, outside The Music Hall by the metal barriers. She’s a horsy looking girl, with a big nose and sticky-out eyes. Not ugly by any stretch - but barely anything past quaintly pretty. Her small mouth reminded me of a rosebud, and her soft jaw line took away slightly from the boldness of her other, less flattering features.

‘You’re late!’ she whimpers as she sees me approaching her. ‘It’s almost ten past!’

I roll my eyes. ‘So? The show doesn’t start till half past.’

‘But we’re still late.’ She begins to make her way into the old building as I follow. ‘What song are you singing?’

I contemplate telling her, but decide against it - she wouldn’t have the foggiest what I was talking about.

‘Just this song I really like,’ I say dismissively. ‘What about you?’

There is no point to that question - not only do I not care, but already know. She’ll be singing the same song she always sings, at every opportunity.

‘Thousand Miles.’

‘Whoa, I love that song,’ I lie.

‘Me too. I love Vanessa Carlton, she’s just so…individual.’

And all her songs sound the same.

‘Yeah.’ We’ve reached the green room now, and follow it through to backstage where everyone is just milling about.

‘Is no one having makeup done?’ she asks, disappointed as she surveys the area.

‘Seems not,’ I say, growing tired of her neediness.

I can’t stand needy people. The needy and the obnoxious are people who should not get in my way when I’m on a period.

I cast my eyes around the room until I spy Tom, fiddling around with a mic box and mini-mic.

Tom is well…he’s a guy from the drama group that’s attached to our media school, but sometimes he comes into our singing class. When this happens, I don’t learn to sing at all. I talk to him, and we laugh at how incapable most of the people in my group are.

Bitchy, I know, but fun.

And did mention he’s pretty damn hot? Messy black hair, always dresses in skinnies…he’s got this ridiculously cool scaffold bar piercing at the back of his neck and another at the front.

Anyway.

I make my way over to him, knowing that this way, Charlotte will leave me alone. She has a hopeless crush on him so consequently won’t go within 3 metres of the guy.

‘Hey Tom,’ I greet. ‘Mic troubles?’

‘I can’t get this fucking thing to work!’ he exclaims, bashing it on the table. I grab it from his hand quickly before he can do any more damage.

‘Er - that won’t help trust me,’ I splutter, turning it over and opening the battery compartment.

‘I already checked the batteries,’ he says, as I take them out and drop them into his hand.

‘Ah, but did you check the connection?’ I pull a tiny slip of paper from out of each battery spring and replace the batteries. ‘They shove those in to stop the mics from turning themselves on and running out of power.’

‘Oh, wise Hannah,’ he smirks playfully. ‘How can I ever repay you?’

I laugh at him. ‘Dedicate every song you ever sing ever again to me and we’re even.’

I stop talking just in time to hear Patricia tell everyone to shut up, and for the first act to get on stage.

‘Whoops, that’s me,’ he hisses, pecking me on the cheek and running out to one of the stage doors.

As a faint guitar kicks in, I can just about hear Tom.

‘So, thanks so much for you all coming, and I hope you enjoy all the acts. This first song’s dedicated to the girl who can pull the paper out of my spring any time she wants.’

I blush heavily and slouch into a chair inconspicuously - only apparently not so much, as within a minute Charlotte is standing next to me.

‘Who did he dedicate it to?’ she asks.

‘Um…spring?’ I venture. She frowns and says something, but I take no notice, zoning out completely until I feel a sharp slap to my arm.

‘Hannah!’

‘Charlotte?’

‘You’re on.’

‘Yeah I know. But I’m wearing a tampon so it’s okay.’

There’s a pause where I think she might have actually left me alone. No such luck.

‘…Er, no. You’re on stage.’

‘Fuck!’

I jump up out of my seat and rush to the stage door, throwing it open and trying to enter onto the stage with a little more elegance than I’d shown thus far.

As I hear the quiet tap tap tap of my queue, I turn to face the audience, finally breaking into the first line of my song like my life depended on it.

If people were going to walk away thinking anything about The Academy Is…, then it was going to be good.

As I sang the last line a capella, the audience burst into applause and I leave the stage, just so glad that it was finally over.