Empty by K. M. Walton Page A

about.” It is then that I hear the saxophone and register where I am. Cara has dragged me to the auditorium. More specifically, to the talent show tryouts.
    “Why am I here, Cara?”
    “You know.”
    “I know nothing.”
    “Well, I know that you have an amazing voice. Why are you acting so weird today? You’re like a zombie,” she says. “Is it because of what I said this morning? All I meant was that we have to be careful or, you know, we won’t get to go to anymore parties. I didn’t mean to yell at you or anything.”
    I nod slowly. I think she just apologized to me, but I’m not sure. However, I am sure that I’m not getting onstage. “Cara, I am not, repeat not, trying out for the talent show. Period. End of story.”
    “I already signed you up. You’re singing the Sarah McLachlan song about the angel. Get over it.”
    “You shouldn’t have done that.” I am not in the mood to be around people, let alone in front of an audience. Not today.
    “What? I shouldn’t look out for my best friend? Give you the chance to share your voice with the world? Oh, poor, poor Dell. My-life-sucks Dell. I’m-just-going-to-boo-hoo-through-the-rest-of-my-junior-year-feeling-sorry-for-myself Dell. Suck it up. Life blows sometimes. It happens to everyone. This will be good for you. You are going to try out, and you are going to make it. And you are going to amaze everyone with your talent.” Then she adds, in a full-on-imitation of me, “Period. End of story. Good night. The end.”
    She called me her best friend. Those words twinkle like stars in the darkness.
    I guess she told me.
    I guess I’m trying out for the talent show.
    I guess I have as good a shot as anyone else here.
    I guess Cara has slightly redeemed herself as my best friend.
    I guess I’m going to need something to wear if I make it.
    Someone announces that it’s my turn to try out. I take a deep breath and make my way to the stage. I guess I’m doing this. I’m about to start singing a capella, when music comes from the speakers. Cara must’ve given them a karaoke version. I open and close my hands as I wait for my entry point. And I sing. I’m into the second verse when the strangest sensation starts in my fingers. It’s not bad, just weird, like tingling. It travels up my arms and settles in behind my face. Maybe the sensation is confidence, I don’t know. But I feel different.
    I want to reach out and wrap my hands around the microphone, maybe even sway my hips to the music. I wish I could get into my performance—yank the microphone out of the stand, toss my hair around, fall to my knees. You know, like the divas do in their videos.
    I don’t, though.
    In the audience, Cara’s mouthing the words along with me, and after each line she gestures for me to smile. It’s weird, but I want to smile, so I do. It’s like the smile releases myvoice, because it goes louder and sounds even more powerful. I belt it out.
    I come to the big finish and throw my head back, letting the last few words barrel out of me like a herd of elephants.
    I beam. Cara’s clapping and jumping up and down. I forgive her for being bitchy this morning. Everyone else is cheering, and my smile widens so much it hurts. I can’t seem to think of any words to describe it.
    Perfection, maybe.

You’ll Figure It Out. Right.
     
    I DO MY MATH HOMEWORK AT THE KITCHEN TABLE. The apartment is silent except for the crunch of potato chips in my mouth. The only sound is my rhythmic chewing. I pick up the bag and read the nutrition information. “Twelve chips. Who eats twelve chips?” Whoever decides official serving sizes of food must have the appetite of a bird.
    Brandon’s voice fills my head. This never happened. Don’t tell anyone. My leg bounces underneath the table. I think the part that hurts the most was how he laughed just before saying, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I swear I can still feel the warmth of his breath on my shoulder, like tattooed disgrace.
    I’m