21.

Don’t say it’s over

’Cause that’s the worst news I

could hear I swear that I will

Do my best to be here

just the way you like it

Even though it’s hard to hide

Push my feelings all aside

I will rearrange my plans and

change for you.

—THE AVETT BROTHERS,

“IF IT’S THE BEACHES”

 

WHEN I WALK INTO THE CLUB, I DON’T STOP TO LOOK FOR him. I know he’s here. I don’t give myself time to second-guess myself as I walk with false con dence toward the front of the room. The emcee is announcing scores for the previous performer when I walk onto the stage. He’s apprehensive as I grab the microphone from him and turn toward the audience. The lights are so bright, I can’t see anyone’s faces. I can’t see Will.

“I would like to perform a piece I wrote,” I say into the microphone. My voice is steady, but my heart is about to jump out of my chest. I can’t turn back now. I have to do this. “I know this isn’t standard protocol, but it’s an emergency,” I say.

Laughter overcomes the audience. The rumble of the crowd is loud, causing me to freeze at the thought of what I’m about to do. I start to have second thoughts and turn around to the emcee, but he nudges me back and gives me the go-ahead.

I place the microphone in the stand and lower it to my height. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I begin.

“Three dollars!” someone yells from the audience.

I open my eyes and realize I haven’t paid my fee yet. I frantically dig my hands in my pockets and pull out a ve-dollar bill and walk it over to the emcee.

I return to the microphone and close my eyes.

“My piece is called—”

Someone’s tapping me on the shoulder. I open my eyes and turn around to see the emcee holding up two one-dollar bills.

“Your change,” he says.

I take the money and put it back in my pocket. He’s still standing there.

“Go!” I whisper through clenched teeth.

He stammers and walks off the stage.

Once again, I turn toward the microphone and begin to speak. “My piece is called ‘Schooled,’ ” I say into the microphone. My voice is shaking, so I take a few deep breaths. I just hope I can remember it: I rewrote a few lines on the way here. I inhale one last time and begin.

I got schooled this year.

By everyone.

By my little brother . . .

by the Avett Brothers . . .

by my mother, my best friend, my teacher, my father,

and

by