Just One Voice

•Shaking•

~5~

I'm going to throw up, I just know it.

Even with it being a hot mid July afternoon, a chill still maneuvers its way up my spine. I adjust the lacey white tank that I'm wearing for the hundredth time—though I don't know what that is accomplishing other than giving a purpose to my anxious hands. I give a choppy knock against an all too familiar old apartment door.

Why the hell are my knuckles so white?

Okay, now I'm sweating again. Just breathe, Brooklynn.

It'a been over a month since I sent in the audition video, and right now my email inbox holds the very key to my future—or the destruction of it, for that matter. Inside my phone lies the unopened answer I've been so anxiously awaiting and dreading all together for what seems like an eternity. The suspense of it all seems almost as if it's staring down my soul, my evil little iPhone burning a hole through my back pocket. I quickly bring my fingertips down to pull the cellular device out into the open, and look it over as if I were trying to intimidate an inanimate object right back.

Yeah, that would be stupid.

All of this is stupid, really. I'm not ready. I thought I would be ready by now but, I'm not. I've even run through the scenario in my head a gazillion times just so that I could take the rejection when it was time. I kept telling myself that I will be able to handle it, but then I would wonder what it would feel like to actually be accepted. Would I get a rush of exhilaration? Would I cry? Would I drop dead? Even when there's zero chance, our brains tend to think outside the box nonetheless. Hope is annoying, huh? It just pricks and nags at you until you give into it.

The door swings open to reveal a kind face, "Hello!" Max's mother says with a friendly expression fighting to take over her tired face. "Are you alright? Come in, take a seat,"

"Hi, Mrs. Witherson. I'm fine," I assure her whilst entering their small apartment.

She gives me a concerned and hardly convinced look, like any mother would.

"No work today?"

"Nope!" She gives a thankful grin, "For once,"

I instantly pick up the scent of something sweet baking in the oven, making the whole house smell warm and inviting. The living room opens up into the small kitchen, making it just one larger area. There's a short hallway off to the side that leads to two single person bedrooms and a bathroom.

Even though the Witherson's  house isn't spacious and doesn't have a lot in it, the atmosphere feels more cozy and comforting than my own home. I love coming here, but I wouldn't want to be a hassle for Mrs. Witherson on the daily. She already works long hours just to keep food in her son's stomach, and I can't imagine she would feel like company after a day's work.

"Max, Brooklynn's here," His Mom calls out.

I see the hallway's second sunken door open and my best friend's confused appearance. His hair sticks up funny and his face looks as though he's baffled on what year it is, like he has just woken up from a nap.

"Oh hey, B." He rubs his eyes and looks at me. "What ya doing here?"

"Oh—" I glance at my phone again, and swear I can hear a faint, maniac snicker, "nothing really,"