Midnight Music

Chapter 3

"You've been sick for a while. Are you feeling alright?" I asked the young man as I adjusted my chocolate-brown ponytail and stepped up to him. We're in the same Social and Ballroom dance class, and he's my partner for the next few minutes. Until we get closer to the showcase in April, everyone dances with each other and doesn't have an official partner, unless there's a married couple in the class together.

"I'm fine. I appreciate the concern, though." The young man, Jimmy smiled nicely as he put his hand at my back, holding me in a foxtrot-closed hold. Our teacher, Mrs. Francis went over to the stereo to play a song for us.

"Do you remember the steps?" I asked curiously. The class hasn't done foxtrot for a couple of weeks as we started learning our tango dance.

"Pretty sure."

An unidentifiable song filled the room, the teacher counted out the first few beats, and the class began to dance. Jimmy was able to keep the rhythm of the dance, but he forgot a couple of moves. Meanwhile, I helped him keep up with the other dancers, and made sure we finished in a decent fashion. When the song was over, Mrs. Francis had us switch partners once more.

By the end of the class, almost everyone had the foxtrot polished and perfected. I slipped my dance shoes off and grabbed the bag with my regular clothes in them. I always preferred to practice dances in a skirt and leggings so that I can get a feel of how it's supposed to look when we do turns and such.

"Thanks for being patient with me, Amy." Jimmy said as I passed him. I paused to turn to him.

"No problem. Just review the steps when you can, and you'll have it down in no time." I said encouragingly, then went to the nearest bathroom to change. I have 15 minutes to be in my next class.

Music is my life. It's always there, whether we're really listening or not. USU's music programs were astounding, but I couldn't decide which one to do for my major. I haven't performed in years, so any performance major was all but impossible for me, and I don't know how I feel about becoming a teacher by doing a music education major. So, I decided to major in music therapy. It was difficult to get into the program, as it was extremely competitive and had a limited number of seats in it. I worked hard to get into it, and reading my acceptance emails for the program as well as a full scholarship was the happiest moment of my life.

Is this really what I want?  I also enjoyed dancing, and the most singing I've done is for fun when I'm alone, or occasionally with my family or Aspen. She's the only one who knows about the Incident, and what she calls "the voice blessed by the gods of music".

Maybe I should at least try taking a vocal performance class. That might help. . . No, we're not discussing this right now. At the moment, I'm supposed to be learning a new move in my country swing dance class. My partner and friend, Andy, who's height was near the 6-foot mark, took my hands and began spinning, dipping, and lifting me. I moved with ease.

"How long have you been dancing again?" he asked as we continued to dance to the music.

"Not long. A couple years, maybe? I've been told I'm a good follower."

"Got that right. Makes it easy for me." He spun me three times in front of him before grabbing me by the shoulder and dipping me towards the floor. The song ended and Ted, the class' instructor, asked us to rotate partners.

An hour and a half later, the class was over and I was in my room with Aspen. She was going through my closet, looking for something to serve as my "disguise" for tonight. We weren't going to the Masked Muse until 9 o'clock, a good 3 hours from now, but she wanted to help make sure that I looked perfect; in case I actually decide to get on the stage for my first performance in years.

"What song do you think you'll sing?" she asked as she flipped through my tops, finding nothing to suit the club.

"I don't know, and I don't think it really matters," I responded while opening the box she had set on the floor. It was completely filled with masks of nearly every design imaginable. There were hand-painted, seashell-covered, laser-cut, wire, even simple paper and cloth-covered masks. "What the hell?" I exclaimed.

"Oh, did I never tell you?" she turned to me, not even having to ask what I was freaking out about. "I collected and made masks for a while when I got really into The Phantom of the Opera  in high school."

"I knew about your hobby and obsession, but I didn't think you kept every single one you made!" I tenderly started lifting each mask out of the box, inspected the details and set them on the carpet next to me.

"I didn't keep every single one. Just the ones that I was proud of and liked." That's still a lot, and it doesn't help your case. "So, you feeling confident?"

"I'm not sure. I know a lot of musicals and their songs, but it's still been a long time since I've performed in front of an audience that wasn't a couple of friends, family, or audition judges and teachers."

"Well, now you can start over. You have an amazing voice, and I know you'll blow everyone away." Aspen moved towards the part of my closet where my dresses were kept, which I rarely wore.

"Maybe my persona will help me gain confidence and scare my stage-fright away for good." I joked half-heartedly.

"Everyone gets stage-fright. It never goes away completely, but I bet you'll be able to overcome its controlling hands," She suddenly pulled out a dress, holding it by the hanger. It was completely covered with red sequins with a fitted bodice, low-cut neckline, a short skirt, and no sleeves. "How about this?"

I scrunched my nose at the gown. Why do I even have that? I don't remember buying it or anything. "No, I don't want to look like I'm trying to reenact the Moulin Rouge! or something. In fact, you can have that dress. It's not really me."

"Happy early birthday to me!" My friend cheered, tossing the dress to the foot of my bed and twirled back to the closest. "You went to dances our junior and senior year. Where are those dresses?"

"Too formal just keep around," I answered casually. "I sold them to some girls in my neighborhood who liked them."

We continued to chat as we searched for my alter ego for about 20 minutes. Finally, Aspen pulled out another dress. It had a fitted bodice, a knee-length flowing skirt, and sleeves that stopped just before the elbows. The dress was dark blue on the hems of the skirt and sleeves, then faded into blue, light blue, and finally white at the bodice.

Like a wave crashing onto a beach, I was hit by inspiration. I looked from the dress to one of the masks on the floor. It was an intricately laser-cut silver mask, covered with white glitter like snow.

"That's it! It's perfect." I quickly swept the other masks back into the box and jumped up to take the dress. "I know who I'm going to be."

"Shouldn't you still try to be yourself? I mean, for me, Daisy is just a part of me."

"Don't be silly. I'm Amy Carter, but this will be someone else. Nobody would be able to tell we're the same people because nobody has seen her before. This really is my alter ego, my other half." I held the dress to my body and looked at the large mirror on my vanity.

"And what is this new person called?"