Flawless: Gazelle [COMPLETE]

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

After English literature was Music. The school would host a lame and dreaded talent show annually, in which we were all required to participate for extra credit. The school wasn't well funded for, and the only music teacher we could afford to hire was an old retired Asian woman whom I was convinced only took the job because of the pastries in the teacher's lounge. I had nothing against her, I was half-Asian myself, but she was truly and hopelessly an utter bore.

She was in charge of each and every pointless talent show. The first few years she worked here, she was actually enthusiastic and excited about her work, and put a lot of effort into the shows. However, once she had grown accustomed to the blank, dull performances every time, she gave up on us, and only continued this program due to protocol.

Most times, we have a specific theme for the show, and we had to audition according to the theme. Miss Cheng would then pick the people who performed best—or in our case, sucked considerably less. Last year's theme was 'drama', and the performances did revolve around drama—they were dramatically horrible. So horrible, in fact, that I think even our parents cringed, and parents usually gave undying support for their children. Well, most parents did.

Failure was the consecutive adjective to describe each year's show.

This year, Miss Cheng announced that our performances had to revolve around music. Every separate act had to somehow involve an element of music, no matter how small or irrelevant. She then proceeded to inform us that, due to the boring, tedious productions from each successive year, we had to perform in pairs or groups, so the show wouldn't drag on as much as it did. Hearing the collective groans of the class, she glared at us, irritated, and continued, "Pick your groupmates. Auditions are next Thursday. Remember, this is compulsory if you want to graduate." Then, remembering something in that rusty old brain of hers, she added, "You may begin." With that, she plopped down on her chair in an ungainly manner, heaving an exhausted sigh. I swear this job was bad for her health.

In a mere second, Liam was by my side. "Partners?" He inquired tentatively. I sighed, an internal debate in my head. I would have to group with someone, so why not pick a person whom I could tolerate? But then again, I knew this would pull us closer. Unlike the others, Liam was actually curious to know about me, and this would definitely make me open up to him. Feeling brave all of a sudden, I decided to actually take a risk—a risk of being discovered, and, before I could turn back, I nodded my head swiftly. A gigantic grin lit up Liam's entire face, and that was the exact moment my brain decided to acknowledge that I had just willingly agreed to work with someone. Shaking my head, I told myself that since it was too late to turn back, I might as well make the most out of this situation.

Taking advantage of my newfound, and most likely short-lived, confidence, I raised an eyebrow. "You any good?"

He laughed at my skepticism. "The real question should be, are you any good?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'll write, and you'll perform."

Without another word, I turned and started flipping through my notebook which contained my precious compositions.

"Wait. You're not performing?" This time round it was him who raised the eyebrow.

I contemplated my options—to lie, or not to lie? Deciding that I had nothing to lose, I admitted embarrassedly, "No. I... kind of have a... majorcaseofstagefright." The last few words poured out of my mouth like vomit; I was that anxious to get it over with. To say this was a well-known fact would be the understatement of the century. The entire school knew of my misfortunes on stage. Last year, I had hacked into the National Weather Report System and changed the sunny climate to a prediction of an incoming black rainstorm in the hopes of stopping the show. It hadn't worked. That was how terrified I was of performing ever since he had left. His disappearance made me feel worthless, as if even my father was tired of me and my artistic antics. I began feeling insecure, and found myself nauseous at the mention of performing in front of large audiences.