The Tour. | +18 | BWWM

𝄞 0 | Overture | The Hymn of Joy

An endless line of people crowd the Sacramento Arena parking lot. The line spills out of the audition area and inches forward step-by-step. A hot Sacramento sun bakes the parking lot. But the party atmosphere can't stop for over 100-degree weather. Each failed contestant walks out, conveyor belt style chewed up, and spit out. The dark black maw of the stage loomed before me.

"This isn't a good idea." I turn to my best friend, who gives me a slight shove forward. She lifts one eyebrow at me to save her voice for singing. It's a silent conversation I understand all too well from the years of our childhood to adult friendship. We're doing this. She says with her eyes.

I'm at the front of the line. The large LED TV comes back from the commercial. "This is the biggest singing competition ever. We have over twenty million entries from all over the world." The host of the show announces like a carnival barker. He fixes his tie while in his slick suit. Then he pushes out his snakeskin shoes to take a dramatic pose. In a comical slow walk with the camera, he walks from backstage onto the main stage.

The host's perfect over-white teeth flash. Like the carnival barker he is, he puts on a show and brings the mic back to his mouth. "The audition is the beginning. Once our contestants are selected, they join in teams of two chosen by our three judges." The camera swings over to the three judges in fancy chairs. A large 'YouTube Red The Tour.' contest sign lights up above their heads. The light shines down from the sign to illuminate the stage below. The host travels across the stage and moves through the light. "This is how they know they are chosen," he whispers into the mic.

"We have three judges. But only two audition contestants can be chosen per judge," the host makes a production of that fact. The sign for team pop lights up under the shadowed judge. Team Broadway sign lights up the next judge. Also, deep in the shadows brings more drama to the moment. The last sign lights up team rock. The host stands under the sign, The Tour light shining down on him. All three of the team signs: Pop, Broadway, and Rock illuminate him from below. He looks up at the tour light from the sign as if it's a benediction instead of a bunch of light bulbs. A big fat smile spreads across his face and he hits his mark. "The winner will win top billing on a music tour. Fame, success, fans, and fortunes await the winning team's contestants. All you need to do is win." He stares dead into the camera and theatrically says. "This is The Tour." The lights go out suddenly and blackness hides him from the arena audience.

At the end of his words, backstage, everyone moves like a wasp nest. The stage manager calls out for "NEXT, places."

I lick my dry lips as my best friend squeezes my hand. Next was me and I wasn't understanding next. What does next mean again?

"Two slices of sweet potato pie as a bribe," my best friend for once doesn't budge at that pie bribe. Pie works 9 out of 10 times with her. I tug her hand forward, trying to get her to go ahead of me, but she shakes her head. She pushes me forward and I walk like a zombie on to the dark stage, to the grand piano. My heels click on the lonely stage. The audience was in shadow. It was like staring into the depth of space with a few phone screen lights for stars.

Seated at the piano my fingers brush across the cold keys. It's not like the Hammond organ at my house, but it has that sense of hominess.

I lean into the mic. "My name is Sabali Lora. I'm in college at UC Davis as a music major. Oh, almost forgot, I'm twenty from Sacramento, California." Damn, voice cracked on Sacramento. I take a big breath and center myself. The audition wasn't my idea. My best friend wanted us to go together and try out. It doesn't matter. Come on, clear your head.

Tune everything out. I coach myself with whispers of my mother's voice at the edges of the world. The past blends with the now.

Just sing. The faint touch of my mother's thin hand hovers over my heart, reminding me silently to sing from here.