BEASTLY

i. beautiful soul

Scott Hoying

The hallways were as busy as usual during the second week of school. People rushed left and right to attack the best spots on the wall for their flyers, turning the once white walls into a plethora of color. No single flyer was in black and white. They had to stand out... be different. I took some time to read through them all, knowing I wouldn't join any of these clubs. I'd already had my place for the past six years in this gigantic school and I knew where I belonged my final year. But some of these flyers were absolutely bizarre. People would try anything to get someone to join their clubs.

The room you're searching for is 9 3/4 feet away from where you're standing at this exact. Moment.

Come learn how to deal with the demons you acquire during your time here. It'll be SUPER fun. Naturally.

Or, my personal favorite.

Join our club. It's so fun. We like to rhyme. (finish the rhyme by coming to the club)

Regardless, this school had so much to offer. I guess that's what happens when you go to a Fine Arts Academy. Every single club would get filled regardless. Everybody had their place and they'd lock into their natural instincts sooner or later. Everybody wanted a place to fit in. A place to belong.

I belonged in the choir room. I was born with "talent as wide as the ocean," as my late mother used to call it. My one promise to her was that I would take my voice as far as it could possibly go. I'd join a band. Try out on some TV show. Share my gift with whoever wanted to listen. I had a gorgeous baritone voice and could sing for my life. And so I did.

Here at Fulton Fine Arts Academy I'm active in the musical theater and vocal departments. Within the first week of school we'd be doing tryouts for the upcoming musical, Sweeney Todd, plus auditions for the multiple ensembles that we could take place in for choir. My favorite thing to do was to get to sing with different people and listen to how our voices blended. It was like the vocal nectar of the gods to get to sing in an ensemble where all of the voices just simply melded together. The sweet harmonies would send me into a state of oblivion.

The bell rang loud and clear through the halls. It was a perfect F# arpeggio. It satisfied the choir nerd within, and echoed throughout the empty halls, making it sound like we were standing in a cathedral. And then the voices erupted throughout the halls as everybody made their way towards their classrooms. You'd hear the occasional tuba and trumpet player having a battle in the hallway (because what band hall isn't complete without a random trumpet and tuba player having a duel? Your school doesn't do that? Fulton does.) There were the typical theater kids reciting lines as they walked down the hallway, making sure they knew their lines for auditions. Then there were the people that annoyed me a little bit.

I'm not the arrogant type, and when people try to make me that way it drives me up the wall. I'm notorious for having one of the "best voices" at FFAA. I didn't choose the title; I'd rather just sing and get my degree and credentials, but the school has to have a top dog, and I'm apparently one of them. I've even been given the name Riff for two reasons: one, because I can "riff for my life," according to my friend Johnny. The other reason is because I played Riff when we did West Side Story two years ago. I suppose it's appropriate. Thus, with the nickname Riff, everyone liked to walk by me and try to show off their own version of my "riffs," equipped with diva hand on one side and the other pretending to hold headphones. I. Don't. Get. It. They're trying to show me how good they are so I can potentially recruit them for my ensemble. But I'm not the one that recruits. Mr. Kingson, our choir teacher, is. So they should be annoying him with their diva hand.

So, on the first day of choir, all of the upperclassmen gather and split apart in their groups. This was the time where we'd get to identify our new eighth graders and our new additions to the upperclassmen. There weren't many, seeing as how you typically need to start from eighth grade to start at FFAA. But there were a few students who slipped through the cracks. There was one in particular that intrigued me, and not completely in a good way.