Page 17 of Can’t Say No

The sound is magic, and it reminds me why I fell in love with music in the first place. Music transcends judgement, bias, and expectations. It’s an escape, a brief trip to another world. And this kind of pure, unadulterated singing… it brings a wave of emotion over me I didn’t expect. Singing hasn’t been fun for me in so long, I think I’ve forgotten what it feels like when it is.

But I’m feeling it now.

Joy, and a touch of jealousy, that these kids get to sit in this magic without any expectation of more.

It’s simple. It's raw. It's peaceful. It’s beautiful.

That peace shatters as Mrs. Rutledge barrels through the door, camera in hand.

Showtime.

“I’m not here,” the principal whisper-shouts, but she’s already popped the fragile bubble of magic we created.

The camera clicks, and the girls around me giggle, some ducking their heads, others smiling wide, turning to make sure Rutledge captures their best angles.

Mrs. Crane looks visibly peeved but continues working with the altos.

My heart rate picks up, in time with the rapid-fire clicking of the camera. I used to love this, all the attention on me. But today, it makes my skin crawl. The posing, the pretending, it’s humiliating. I can all but hear my dad’s voice.

Remember this feeling next time you’re thinking about stepping out of line.

Clearing my throat, I mumble, “I’ve gotta, um, go to the restroom real quick.” My chair screeches as it shoots back, cutting through the lingering melodies.

My palms grow sweatier by the second as I push into the bathroom across the hall. My chest is tight, my breathing shallow.

Gripping the sink with all I’ve got, I force myself to meet my own gaze in the mirror. A bead of sweat drips down my forehead, and my chest heaves like I’ve just run a marathon, but otherwise, I look fine.

Stable. Normal.

I look like Delaney James.

I let out a long, shaky breath, counting down from ten, trying to restore some sense of calm. These little moments of panic have been a constant companion since I was a kid. Meds help, my therapist helps, but the best solution I’ve found in the moment is to step away and just breathe. Doesn’t work so great in the middle of a show, but people always assume I’m stepping off to puke.

Fans would rather see me as a party girl than someone who struggles with their mental health, and my team has never tried to correct them.

The bathroom door swings open as I wipe my brow, my heart finally returning to its normal rhythm.

“Oh, how funny!” a voice behind me exclaims. “I was gonna ask Connor for your number!”

Caroline Brighton scoots right up beside me, twisting her long dark hair into a messy bun in the mirror I was just using to regain my senses.

“Will you come out with us this Friday? It’s kinda become a tradition, me, Connor, and Wells. Have you met Wells? Tall, bearded, grumpy as hell. Likes to hide in a corner during faculty meetings. You’ll like him. Or you won’t! Either way, you should come!”

Caroline babbles on while I’m still finding solid ground.

“Have you been to Eddy’s? I’m sure you have. You grew up here, right? So of course you have.” She bounces on the balls of her feet, waiting for my answer.

Blinking a few times to clear the last of the haze from my eyes, I nod. “Yeah, yeah of course I’ve been to Eddy’s.”

Her loud clap echoes in the bathroom, “Perfect! Lemme have your phone and I’ll put in my number.” She holds her palm out, then pales as a realization sweeps over her face.

“Oh my god, I’m not a weird fan or anything. Haven’t even listened to your recent stuff.” Now her eyes go wide, cheeks pinking with embarrassment. “Fuck, I’m gonna stop talking before I put my foot in my mouth again. My caffeine addiction is clearly at full force.”

Smiling weakly, I hand over my phone. “If I could bottle your energy, maybe the new album would be out by now.”

Caroline laughs as she taps away on my phone. “It’s just a steady stream of shitty faculty lounge coffee, baby. Okay, now you’ve got my number. I sent myself a text so I have yours, too. I’ll remind you Friday, but usually we meet up around seven.”

“I appreciate the invite.” I pause, an internal battle starting.