My Name Is Chloe Read Online Free Page A

to recover from a seriously deranged week. I’ll spare you the details except to say that Tiffany Knight has targeted me for her whipping girl. She hardly allows a day to passwithout some lame attempt at making my life miserable—as if I need any help in that particular area! But I was just minding my own business, thinking about a new song I’m working on and whether I have enough nerve to take my homemade audiocassette down to the new coffeehouse in town. Or maybe I should just see if I could get up there on that little stage and read a poem for starters. I’m still not sure. Isn’t it ironic that I try to escape such abuse and public humiliation at school, but then I’m willing to climb onto a live stage and actually invite even more? Sometimes I astound myself.
    But back to Tiffany. It was fourth period, choir, and Mr. Thompson had just asked anyone who was interested in auditioning for a small girls’ ensemble (to start rehearsing some special songs for the Christmas concert) to stay afterward. Naturally, I stayed. So did Laura. And to my disappointment, Tiffany and several of her monkeys stayed as well.
    Hey, it’s a free world, I told myself. Although I’ve never heard Tiffany sing, since she’s in the first soprano section and I’m in second soprano (although I can sing anything between alto and soprano). Still I couldn’t imagine how anyone as mean as Tiffany could possibly have a voice worth listening to.
    So, I nonchalantly moved down to the frontrow, where we were supposed to wait our turns, and began doodling in my notebook. One by one the girls stepped up and sang a few bars from a song we’re working on right now called “The Falling Leaves.” Most of them were acting pretty self-conscious and seemed embarrassed about singing solo, and some were really messing up badly. Each time someone squeaked or hit a wrong note, Tiffany and her cohorts would break into giggles. Mr. Thompson warned them to be quiet, and I even tossed them a dark look. Okay, that was a mistake.
    But I was relieved when Mr. Thompson called on Tiffany next. I think he figured this was one way to shut them up. Well, Tiffany strutted down to the piano like she was the queen of the choir and started to sing. And I have to admit she was okay, but nothing to be particularly proud about. But when she returned to her seat, she looked at me as if to say, “Top that.” I just rolled my eyes and went back to doodling. Her three friends sang next, and one was okay but the other two were pretty hopeless.
    Then Laura was called down, and I quit doodling and smiled at her as she took her place by the piano. I think she saw me too. And then she sang with a boldness and confidence that was totally cool. I started clapping as soon as she finished, and a number of other girls joined in.But of course not Tiffany and her monkeys.
    Then it was my turn. Emboldened by Laura’s brave performance, I went down there and gave it my best shot too. And once again, applause followed. Mr. Thompson smiled and said, “That was great, Chloe.” And I felt pretty sure that I’d be picked. About that time I noticed Tiffany and her tribe getting up to leave.
    “I’m hungry,” said Tiffany. “And my ears are starting to hurt.” I’m sure she was aiming this one at me, or maybe Laura. But bolstered by the applause and Mr. Thompson’s praise, I ignored her, staying behind to listen to the rest of the girls try out. And from then on out we clapped for everyone regardless of her performance.
    “Good job, girls,” said Mr. Thompson as he closed the piano. “I’ll post the results on my office door, right after lunch.” Then as I was about to leave, he said, “Chloe, can I see you a minute?”
    “Sure.” I walked back over. “What’s up?”
    He smiled again. “You really have a fantastic voice. And I’m curious about how comfortable you’d be doing solos now and then?”
    I grinned. “Are you kidding? I’d love to. Music is my life.”
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