Authors: Angela Morrison
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Dating & Sex
Sing Me to Sleep (16 page)
I lose the thread of their conversation as the next choir files onto the risers. I get up and go outside. They are in the foyer, shaking hands. Derek sees me and starts to head in my direction.
When he gets to me, he takes both my hands. I stare at him. What can I say after that?
He squeezes my hands, leans forward and whispers, “When’s your free time today?”
My throat is so dry I have to swallow. “Two hours, after lunch.”
“It’s mine.”
We wander, slowly, around the center of Lausanne, holding hands. Derek seems tired. He jerks away when I put my hand on his forehead to check if he has a temperature. “I thought I wasn’t a little boy.”
The rest of my choir is touring the cathedral. We avoid it. Too many stairs, according to Derek. There’s a big market set up in front of the tiny shops in old stone buildings. Tables of fresh fruits, veggies, honey, and carts selling cheese make the narrow winding streets even narrower. Derek buys some nasty dried-up sausage and makes me try it. So salty. I buy some fresh strawberries to get the taste out of my mouth—and his. The city center is a maze. We get totally lost, head downhill until we pick up the metro signs. We take it down to Ouchy and end up back on our bench.
He sits down, and I take up my position. Instead of kissing me, he pulls me into a hug.
I bury my face in his neck. It feels like coming home. “One more day and the fairy tale ends.”
“Don’t remind me. I want to stay here with you forever.”
“Sign me up.”
“Okay. The guys and I are staying on a couple weeks—backpacking, trains. Stay.”
“Two solid weeks with no distractions?”
“Blake would be around.”
“Even that would be so much better than”—emotion catches at my voice—“saying good-bye Monday morning.” I curse the bane of nonrefundable group airline tickets.
He strokes my hair. I washed it three times to get all the gunk out of it and hot oiled it before breakfast. It’s gorgeous today. As long as it doesn’t rain and spoil the flattening job the girls did on it. Keep touching it, Derek. Please, keep touching it.
He does. He’s wearing a short-sleeved polo like the one I cried on. I notice small red scars on the inside of his arm. Tracks? I don’t want to see them. All the drugs in the world won’t change how I feel about Derek. I close my eyes.
His fingers comb through my hair. “It won’t be
good-bye
. Just
see you later
.”
good-bye
. Just
see you later
.”
My eyes fly open. “Really?” Take that, Meadow.
“Like Meadow said, we’re neighbors. London is only a couple hours from Detroit. How far is Ann Arbor?”
An amazing, tingling sensation goes through me. I tip my head back and laugh.
“What?”
“I’m up in Port.”
“You’re kidding? That’s like a half hour from my house—if you go fast.”
Then I’m afraid. This can’t be real. He can’t be saying this. I clutch the front of his shirt. “You really want to keep this—happening?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
I nod my head.
He frowns at me. “What did you think?”
“I don’t know. That you were passing time. Being nice. That it doesn’t mean to you what it means to me.”
“That’s cold.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this. Nothing like you has ever happened to me before.”
“Good.” He shifts his hold so he can kiss me. “Let’s keep it that way.”
We get lost in lips and hands and hair and faces. It feels different this time—now that I know it will last. Less physical. More emotional. With every kiss, the way I feel about him deepens. With every touch, he is more and more precious. I’ll be his high. I’ll be his therapy. If he has me, he won’t need anything else. I so want to take care of him.
His lips flow over every inch of my face, promising me.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Of moments like this.
My official Bliss Tour Itinerary is fat as a book. The gala celebration tonight, the awards-ceremony thing tomorrow morning, shopping all afternoon, and our flight home the next morning are all that’s left. The schedule says we have to board the bus at 5:00 a.m. Derek and I better say our
see you later
s the night before. He doesn’t do mornings.
see you later
s the night before. He doesn’t do mornings.
We, meaning me and eighty girls, not me and Derek, arrive at the sports arena, where the closing concert will be held. We’re lucky it hasn’t rained. Clouds rolled in this afternoon, but so far it’s been dry. They didn’t have to move the concert indoors. Terri hands the usher the plastic card with our seat assignments. Instead of leading us to nosebleed seats in the rafters, they take us to a couple of long, empty rows on the field.
The orchestra starts the evening off. Derek told me they are all Hungarians. The Choral Olympics couldn’t afford the Swiss. After a couple of stirring classical pieces and a piece from a recent movie soundtrack, a Hungarian tenor comes out and sings. He’s good-looking for a guy in his thirties.
Meadow flips out over him. “Next summer—Hungary.” Give me Canada. Just across the border. And soon.
An adult choir from the Philippines sings “The Circle of Light” from
The Lion King
. They sit in a giant circle with one side open to the audience and make all those animal sounds using only their voices.
The Lion King
. They sit in a giant circle with one side open to the audience and make all those animal sounds using only their voices.
The evening wears on. Lots of choirs. I love the Scottish men’s chorus—especially the kilts. The Amabile guys need to get some of those. Derek would be so hot in one. A Hungarian soprano sings a striking aria. I wish I knew how to make my voice do that. The tenor joins her. Standing ovation. The first of the night.
Leah nudges me. “They’re next.”
I glance down at my program. I knew the Amabile guys were closing the show, but I didn’t realize it was so close to over. A shiver goes through me and I’m not cold. I’m hyped to see Derek on the stage, but when this is over, we’re that much closer to going home. I hope they sing all night.
They file out. There’s Derek in his tux again. My Derek. How can that gorgeous creature be with me? He held me, kissed me, and wrote me a song. Me. Maybe it isn’t real. At dinner Meadow was eager to confirm he has a girlfriend in the Amabile Girls’ Choir. Meadow said his online relationship status is single now, but the girlfriend’s profile picture is a pretty cozy one with him. Her status is “Complicated.” I ignored Meadow. My lips were soft and pink from making out with Derek. My head full of his promises.
They start to sing and a nasty voice whispers inside me,
He didn’t promise you anything. He just wants to see you again. No commitment
. The thought consumes me. I barely hear the two numbers they perform.
He didn’t promise you anything. He just wants to see you again. No commitment
. The thought consumes me. I barely hear the two numbers they perform.
The lights go down. A spot shines on Derek walking out, lots of girls squeal. He sings the opening lines of “We Are the World.” It’s a tradition to sing it at every Choral Olympics. The real Olympics are about peace through sports. We’re about peace through song. Derek sings, slowly with lots of feeling. My heart jumps around inside my chest. I struggle to inhale.
A half dozen of the older guys, the core of Primus, follow him off the riser to the edge of the stage. More screaming from the audience. The other guys join Derek’s voice. The tempo picks up. Derek and the guys clap over their heads, getting everyone on their feet. Thousands of voices from all over the world sing about brighter days. Derek leads, in the center of it all. A total star.
So far, far away from me.
The place goes pretty wild after that. Choral decorum out the window. And it’s all because of him. He made that number the highlight of the night. He truly is infectious. Intoxicating. I’m not the only one who feels him. He managed to get to everybody in this sports arena.
When the audience calms down, Derek takes the mike. Major screaming. He smiles and waves. Then he announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, fellow choristers, families—we’ve got a unique treat this evening to close the show.” The orchestra starts playing the tune of a guy-girl pop duet—way romantic, way popular last winter. I’ve sung it to my mirror with my eyes closed a thousand times. I can’t wait to hear him sing it.
But he’s still talking. “I’d like to introduce you to a new voice that made this festival heaven for everyone who heard her sing. Will Beth Evans, the soloist from Bliss Youth Singers, please join me on the stage.”
I am so glued to my chair. Leah and Sarah get me on my feet and push me out into the aisle. I have to force myself to stand up straight and fake a confident walk. A spotlight follows me up the stage. Derek hands me a mike and whispers, “You know this one right?”
“Remind me to kill you later.”
He sings,
I gotta be, I gotta be about you,
in my face.
I gotta be, I gotta be about you,
in my face.
I,
You—oooh, ooh,
back at him.
You—oooh, ooh,
back at him.
Onstage, in front of the entire choral world as we know it, he puts his hand lightly on my waist and draws me close, so we’re singing mike to mike.
The way you walk, your golden hair
. He touches my hair.
The way I see you everywhere. / Babe, don’t be afraid—hold out a hand to me
. He takes a hold of my hand before he’s done and I have to sing.
. He touches my hair.
The way I see you everywhere. / Babe, don’t be afraid—hold out a hand to me
. He takes a hold of my hand before he’s done and I have to sing.
My verse is kind of raw, and it comes out that way.
Your breath that drifts across my face.
He squeezes my hand.
A fire ignites when we embrace
. I flush, barely get the next line out.
Your lips on mine promise what I don’t dare
.
Your breath that drifts across my face.
He squeezes my hand.
A fire ignites when we embrace
. I flush, barely get the next line out.
Your lips on mine promise what I don’t dare
.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. The chorus starts with me.
And now—our love is so true,
I won’t take a step without you.
Thank God, you came. If you love me, please don’t ever let me go.
I mean every word. Does he? Is that why he chose this song? He comes in and our voices wind together.
All my life I gotta be about you.
Can’t sleep, can’t dream without you.
It’s a fairy-tale vision for two. It’s you. It’s you.
My eyes open. I get a break while he sings.
I raise a kaleidoscope up to my eye,
Twist it once and watch the bright colors fly,
And the picture is so clear—
He cups my cheek with his free hand.
It’s gotta be you
.
It’s gotta be you
.
He gets me swaying with him during the orchestral interlude. I probably look like a tree. We sing,
It’s you, you
, back and forth to each other. And then he does a run.
It’s you, you
, back and forth to each other. And then he does a run.
By the second verse, we’re moving in sync with the music, touching each other. Honest, passionate, Derek sings—
The way you kiss, the way you sing,
The way you tell me everything.
Will you take my heart? ”
He puts my hand on his chest and holds it there.
I’m offering it to you?
I feel his heart pumping. The spotlight makes him glow.
I’m offering it to you?
I feel his heart pumping. The spotlight makes him glow.
I feel your love—it beats so strong,
I’ ll walk with you until the dawn.
He smiles. I slide my hand up to his face and trace his lips while I sing,
Now I love only as long as I sing you, you
.
Now I love only as long as I sing you, you
.
Derek takes my hand and swings it with the beat.
You, you
, I echo him. Then we’re singing the chorus again together. The Primus Amabile guys back us up. I’m totally into it. Instead of fearing the audience, I’m drinking in their appreciation. Major rush. Powerful. It twists with the feeling that’s pouring off Derek, and I’m ready for the dramatic second refrain.
You, you
, I echo him. Then we’re singing the chorus again together. The Primus Amabile guys back us up. I’m totally into it. Instead of fearing the audience, I’m drinking in their appreciation. Major rush. Powerful. It twists with the feeling that’s pouring off Derek, and I’m ready for the dramatic second refrain.
Derek and I don’t worry about the words. The guys have it. We improvise runs up and around, chasing each other’s voice. Derek singing,
Oh, baby, you
.
Oh, baby, you
.
I get,
Whoa-ooh, you-oo
. At the end it all comes together. Our back up Amabile guys drop out. My voice blends with Derek’s in the final throbbing phrase.
It’s gotta be, it’s gotta be about you
.
Whoa-ooh, you-oo
. At the end it all comes together. Our back up Amabile guys drop out. My voice blends with Derek’s in the final throbbing phrase.
It’s gotta be, it’s gotta be about you
.
Applause washes over us. Derek kisses me, and the place goes nuts.
chapter 14
WINNERS
Derek and the rest of the Amabile guys shred whatever decorum was left after the concert last night before the closing ceremony can even get under way this morning. It starts out with all the choirs waving flags and trying to outsing one another’s national anthem. Derek and his friends notch it up to raucous when they get up and run around the arena waving a giant Canadian flag. That bright-red cloth with the red maple leaf in the middle is like a matador’s cape. And the bulls can’t resist coming after it.
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