Standing By

Sixth Member of Pentatonix

(Adam)

I am not one for stage fright. Never have been. I practically grew up on stage, with performances, recitals, shows, competitions. I love being on stage, watching the audience enjoy what I can do. It gives me a rush like nothing else, brings me to life as soon as the lights fall on me.

Right now, I decidedly did not feel a rush. Nowhere near it at all. I felt it for our performance—the excitement of the moment, the thrill of all eyes expectantly on me, on us. And ninety-nine times out of one hundred, I'd be raring to go. This was the one percent of the time. I just stood there, feeling a bit shellshocked, as if I'd just been ordered to perform a knife juggling act. I was literally frozen still, vaguely aware of everyone else around me as they buzzed about frantically, calling Kevin's name.

Kevin—Kevin—Kevin! Where the hell are you?! I don't know your songs!! My heart was pounding as everyone else was talking. I couldn't even make out the words through the buzzing in my ears. I lifted one hand to pat at an ear absentmindedly. My in-ear fell out soundlessly. I barely gave it a second glance, much more preoccupied with what I was going to have to do. Perform. One song I'd only heard in passing. Another song I didn't think I'd ever heard. Fuck. I think I'm going to be sick. I reached out to steady myself but only stumbled, light-headed, the lights swimming in front of me.

Rob's hand landed on my shoulder. "Adam. Are you OK?"

His voice sounding very far away, I closed my eyes, somewhat aware of my head starting to bob around. Oh my God. Was I about to pass out? Arms still out in front of me limply, I started to pitch forward, feeling like I was falling into a dark abyss.

Someone's strong arms caught me before I collapsed on the floor. Austin had dropped to his knees and was yelling at me to breathe.

Breathe. Breathing would be a good thing. I shook my head real good, trying to clear it, and concentrated on just breathing for a minute. I slowly became aware of Rob's arms around me, of Tim and Chance yelling my name, of Avi nibbling on a nail, of Kirstie with her face in her hands, of Mitch looking at me with wide eyes, of Scott shaking his head at a stage hand, who was yelling at them to come on.

Wiping at sweaty eyes, I blinked at them. "I—I can't do this."

Tim dropped to all fours as Rob let me slide down gently to the floor, and told me firmly, "Yes, you can."

"I know damn well you can," Rob added, also sinking to his knees.

"You just did," Chance reminded me. "On O Come All Ye Faithful."

"You killed it," Avi said, sitting down next to Chance. "You did amazing."

"Yeah—'cuz I knew the song!" At least now I didn't feel like I was about to puke up my nachos.

"Just hold your fucking horses!" Scott finally yelled at the stage hand trying to get Pentatonix up on stage and us backstage

"Please, Adam," Mitch begged me, fanning at his face and blinking fast. "We saved your asses earlier. Please. Help us."

"It's not that I don't want to," I told him, panic in my voice. "It's that I can't. I don't know your songs."

"You don't know Hallelujah at all?" Kirstie wailed. "Or heard That's Christmas To Me?"

"Well," I said, lifting my head. "I do know Hallelujah. Not your particular arrangement though."

Scott sighed. "Can you wing it?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

"How about just some nice basic drum beats?" Avi bartered. "Six/eight time. Follow our leads."