Center Stage! (Center Stage! #1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Caitlyn Duffy
two standing in front of me.
“Hi there, Miss Burch. I’m Tommy Harper,” a man wearing pinstripes with gray, thinning hair said, extending a strong hand. “I’m the Executive Producer of Center Stage!” Tommy was suspiciously tan, and the bald top of his head gleamed. When he shook my hand, I noticed his chunky pinky ring.
“And I’m Susan DeMott,” a woman with sleek dark hair introduced herself, pumping my hand up and down. Her forehead was oddly smooth in contrast to the area under her eyes, which was crinkly with wrinkles. “We are so excited that you were able to join us today and audition, Allison. We think this is going to be a very exciting season. Our staff will be in touch with you within the next few days to tape a brief segment for the first episode of the show.”
Behind them, on the monitor, I couldn’t help but notice that Elliott’s track had started playing, and he cradled the mic between his hands, getting ready to start his song. I didn’t recognize his audition song by its guitar introduction and wondered if maybe he was into cooler indie rock music than me. That was doubtful, though; I read indie music blogs like a fiend. I’d even been listening to Zenith, the side project of the Detroit Hobgoblins’ lead singer, on the way to the Dolby Theater that afternoon. Elliott squeezed his eyes shut and began to sing, and suddenly I knew the surefire ease in the competition that I had just presumed for myself only minutes ago was no longer a guarantee.
Elliott’s voice was as raw as sandpaper, but he hit every note as clear as a bell. He seemed to have practiced, professional-level control over his volume, murmuring softly during his first verse and then revving up like an engine for the refrain. By the time he reached his chorus, his voice was so loud that I could hear him through the wall of the office as well as over the theater’s inter-office loudspeaker system. Since there was only one camera feed on that monitor, I couldn’t see the coaches’ reactions, but I could hear the crowd going absolutely bonkers. The boy who was passionately roaring into his microphone with a wild blaze in his eyes didn’t seem like he could have possibly been the same guy who had just been shyly shoe-gazing moments earlier. Not only did Elliott seem like he was already a real rock star, but he also seemed to have the potential to become a legend.
Elliott’s jaw-dropping performance had captured the attention of Tommy and Susan, too. Susan had trailed off mid-sentence, her mouth agape with the word “season” dangling from her upper teeth. Tommy strummed his fingers on Claire’s desktop. I noticed Susan turn to Tommy and shake her head like she simply couldn’t believe there would be two impressive contestants in a row. Elliott ripped through his chorus a second time, and I distinguished a few lines of the song to be about some painful lies a girl had told him. He finished at the end of the chorus, and Susan turned to me and said, “That, kid, is who you’re going to have to beat.”
When the applause finally quieted down, Chase Atwood told Elliott, “My, oh my, son. You just knocked that audition out of the park.”
“Home run,” Jay Walk agreed.
Elliott was blushing, looking at his feet again.
“What was that song you just sang? I didn’t recognize it,” Chase said.
Elliott bit his lower lip, and his eyes flickered upward and out into the crowd for just a quick second. “I wrote it,” he said.
I wanted to groan. He had that incredible voice, and he was a songwriter , too. I wondered if anyone in the Dolby Theater other than me remembered my performance. Just ten minutes after I’d stepped off the stage, I’d been outdone.
Chapter 2
The Complications
Since my brother left for college earlier that fall, the whole structure of my family had changed. My parents were home less frequently, and even though I’d thought my entire life that I’d love being an only child, I
“Hi there, Miss Burch. I’m Tommy Harper,” a man wearing pinstripes with gray, thinning hair said, extending a strong hand. “I’m the Executive Producer of Center Stage!” Tommy was suspiciously tan, and the bald top of his head gleamed. When he shook my hand, I noticed his chunky pinky ring.
“And I’m Susan DeMott,” a woman with sleek dark hair introduced herself, pumping my hand up and down. Her forehead was oddly smooth in contrast to the area under her eyes, which was crinkly with wrinkles. “We are so excited that you were able to join us today and audition, Allison. We think this is going to be a very exciting season. Our staff will be in touch with you within the next few days to tape a brief segment for the first episode of the show.”
Behind them, on the monitor, I couldn’t help but notice that Elliott’s track had started playing, and he cradled the mic between his hands, getting ready to start his song. I didn’t recognize his audition song by its guitar introduction and wondered if maybe he was into cooler indie rock music than me. That was doubtful, though; I read indie music blogs like a fiend. I’d even been listening to Zenith, the side project of the Detroit Hobgoblins’ lead singer, on the way to the Dolby Theater that afternoon. Elliott squeezed his eyes shut and began to sing, and suddenly I knew the surefire ease in the competition that I had just presumed for myself only minutes ago was no longer a guarantee.
Elliott’s voice was as raw as sandpaper, but he hit every note as clear as a bell. He seemed to have practiced, professional-level control over his volume, murmuring softly during his first verse and then revving up like an engine for the refrain. By the time he reached his chorus, his voice was so loud that I could hear him through the wall of the office as well as over the theater’s inter-office loudspeaker system. Since there was only one camera feed on that monitor, I couldn’t see the coaches’ reactions, but I could hear the crowd going absolutely bonkers. The boy who was passionately roaring into his microphone with a wild blaze in his eyes didn’t seem like he could have possibly been the same guy who had just been shyly shoe-gazing moments earlier. Not only did Elliott seem like he was already a real rock star, but he also seemed to have the potential to become a legend.
Elliott’s jaw-dropping performance had captured the attention of Tommy and Susan, too. Susan had trailed off mid-sentence, her mouth agape with the word “season” dangling from her upper teeth. Tommy strummed his fingers on Claire’s desktop. I noticed Susan turn to Tommy and shake her head like she simply couldn’t believe there would be two impressive contestants in a row. Elliott ripped through his chorus a second time, and I distinguished a few lines of the song to be about some painful lies a girl had told him. He finished at the end of the chorus, and Susan turned to me and said, “That, kid, is who you’re going to have to beat.”
When the applause finally quieted down, Chase Atwood told Elliott, “My, oh my, son. You just knocked that audition out of the park.”
“Home run,” Jay Walk agreed.
Elliott was blushing, looking at his feet again.
“What was that song you just sang? I didn’t recognize it,” Chase said.
Elliott bit his lower lip, and his eyes flickered upward and out into the crowd for just a quick second. “I wrote it,” he said.
I wanted to groan. He had that incredible voice, and he was a songwriter , too. I wondered if anyone in the Dolby Theater other than me remembered my performance. Just ten minutes after I’d stepped off the stage, I’d been outdone.
Chapter 2
The Complications
Since my brother left for college earlier that fall, the whole structure of my family had changed. My parents were home less frequently, and even though I’d thought my entire life that I’d love being an only child, I
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