I looked forward to my third year as a chorus member. (Dancing and I were enemies. Singing and I were barely friends.) Yes, another year in a chorus with friends that made me smile. With a director I always secretly laughed at because she thought she was a rock star. With boys who had nice voices which made them cute even if they weren't.
I had practiced a song of my choice: I'm in Love with A Wonderful Guy from South Pacific. It was fun and catchy. It didn't have any of those CRAZY high notes that made me look ridiculous.
I wasn't the first to audition. There were others that went before me including some of those poor, unfortunate freshmen. They were so scared, so unexperienced. Remembering my own freshman audition, I sent them sympathetic smiles.
I watched as yet one more freshman girl stood to deliver her performance. And then...
I expect everyone of my crowd to make fun
Of my proud protestations of faith in romance
She was singing my song! And she was REALLY good. What's a girl who's in love with a wonderful guy to do?! I couldn't very well scream, "No, you are not corny as Kansas in August! I am. I am as normal as blueberry pie. Not you!"
So instead I waited patiently. Then when it was my turn, I stood. I handed my music to the pianist, who probably thought she was experiencing de ja vu. I sang my song and when I got to the chorus I sang...nay, I belted...
I'm in love. I'm in love. I'm in love. I'm in love. I'm in love with a MORE wonderful guy.
Then we all laughed. I got a chorus role. Talented freshman girl got a leading role. And we lived happily ever after as all high school stories go.