Just One Voice

•Bulldozing Right Over My Life•

~12~

"Hello and welcome back this year's junior musicians!" Rings out the enthusiastic voice of our teacher, newly introduced as Mrs. Esme, "The people around you are not only your friends, but your partners, your competition, and your inspiration. My goal as your teacher this year, is to not only make sure that each of you finds yourself as a separate and unique musician, but that you all can equally come together and perform as one with the mere shared respect and love for music."

"So basically, everyone be nice and hold hands during singing circle." Snickers someone from behind me.

I sigh in my seat, there are always those students. Everyone here today has been given a once in a lifetime opportunity, and in my opinion, it shouldn't so quickly be taken as a joking matter.

Mrs. Esme's eyes travel through the dozen or so students and stop on the unknown owner of the obnoxious remark. My curious head swivels to meet him too, as well as the rest of the class, and I come up with a familiar mop of dark hair.

Bulldozer.

Fantastic. So my partners, competition and inspiration so far consists of the angelic Amber herself, and a cranky Bulldozer.

"Mr. McCally I presume?" Mrs. Esme questions, "Unfortunately there is no hand-holding singing circle scheduled for the year, but thank you for your suggestion. No idea is a bad idea here," she smiles.

I quickly reset my gaze to the front of the room as she speaks, grinning at her lighthearted way of dealing with such a nuisance.

Mrs. Esme appears to be around forty or so, and talks with a cheery voice, subtly hinting at an accent I best recognize as French. Though her slim frame, pale eyes and just about every other physical attribute is different, her warm smile reminds me a little of Heather's. I like her already.

"Unless anyone else feels the need to get something off their chest, we will begin our first music hour with Performance and Presentation II."

My stomach churns. This is the class I've been dreading most. It's required of upperclassmen, otherwise I would definitely not have anything to do with it. An entire hour dedicated to embarrassing yourself in front of everyone in hopes to learn how to 'fully engage a crowd'—not exactly my favorite concept.

"Would anyone who has already taken the beginning of this course care to name the four key ingredients to any great performance?" Mrs. Esme asks.

A head of fiery curls instantly rises, gracing us all with her voice without even slight hesitation. I don't remember Mrs. Esme saying anything about singing in her request, but that doesn't stop Amber from performing a short a cappella version of the latest pop song.

"Excellent demonstration," our teacher praises, appearing as though she half expected Amber's reaction. "Now who can point out the qualities that made it so excellent?"

I've seen enough movies to know exactly what not to do in this situation. I shoot my hand up into the air so fast that I think I might have sprained my elbow. I'm not about to be called on just from pure lack of participation.

"Yes, Mr. Collins?"

Success.

"Uh," croaks a guy in the back topped with a bright pink beanie, "She's hot. That got my attention. And, she can sing."