Thinking.

After I finished my act, I didn’t go back to the locker room, but neither did I go out and get together with the others. Mom had come to see me, too, so I felt a little guilty, but I needed to stay backstage, standing in a corner where I wouldn’t bother anyone. I needed to be somewhere I could be alone, see the performances and see the audience.

I saw one of Isabelle’s friends do a magic show and… Well, let’s say I didn’t feel like judging anyone at the moment and leave it at that. A couple other people sang known songs and got the audience to sing along with them. Someone put on a short, stand-up comedy skit and was actually pretty funny. A shame I didn’t feel like laughing, though.

I think I should clarify I wasn’t angry or upset at any aspect of my performance. I had done everything I needed and wanted to do, and the reception had been good, all things considered. I don’t think I embarrassed myself beyond playing some obscure song nobody knew and that would for sure make more than a few question my taste in music. Regardless, something felt off, and I wanted to understand what it was. It was for that reason that I watched the remaining acts.

I got a text from Mila asking me where I was. I told her I’d catch up with them after the show was over, that I needed to think a bit. I hoped I wouldn’t make them worry, so I’d be sure to explain everything to them afterwards. Only if they cared, though.

As I continued watching, there was one particular performance that gave me a big hint to the answer I was looking for. A senior student dressed up and made a near perfect imitation of Michael Jackson’s dancing. The crowd absolutely loved it and they cheered for him loudly. I saw them smile, laugh, cheer and whistle, and I even found myself smiling, too.

When the last act was done, the MC encouraged all students to vote for the act they wanted to win. The voting would be done though the school website and you needed a student account to vote, so yeah, it was students only. I don’t think we were prohibited from voting for ourselves, but I still voted for the Michael Jackson imitation. Guy had skill.

They were giving a 10 minute break for the voting, so I did end up going back out with my guitar case on my back. I thought it appropriate to go see mom first, since she was a guest here. I found her at the very back of the gym, on the last row of seats, with Isabelle.

“There he is,” my sister said, poking mom and then pointing at me. “Where were you?”

“Watching the acts,” I told her. I looked at mom. “Sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

Mom chuckled and shook her head. “Don’t worry. You look a little too serious, though.” She stood up, walked up to me and gave me a hug. “You did great, son. I’m so proud of you.”

That warmed my chest. I smiled and chuckled. “Thanks, mom. And you too, sis. Thanks for all the help.”

“I already voted for us, so now we just have to wait,” Isabelle said. She looked at the stage and sighed. I don’t think she believed we’d win, either.

The MC reappeared on stage after 10 minutes. She gave a short speech about how great it was to have everyone here and encouraged everyone to give one more round of applause to everyone who had participated.

“And now, without further ado, let’s announce the winners, shall we?” The audience went silent. So did Isabelle, mom and I. “In third place, we have…!” A small pause for dramatic tension. “Jerry Graves with his stand-up comedy skit!”

There was a big round of applause as Jerry got up on stage. He waved and bowed with a huge grin on his face.

“First place was a heated battle that was decided by only a 10 vote difference! In second place, we have… The drama club, with their original play!”

The drama club came in second? That was a surprise. I’d heard they were going all out. I didn’t get to see their play, but I felt it was a shame. Then again, I didn’t vote for them, so part of it was on me. The president of the drama club went up on stage as the representative and waved in thanks.

“And finally,” continued the MC, “taking the lead in the first new instance of our reborn talent show… Reggie Nash, with his imitation of Michael Jackson’s ‘Billie Jean’!”

The cheering and shouting got louder as Reggie walked on stage. Meanwhile, Isabelle and I shared a look of wry smiles. I shrugged, but she came up to me and gave me a hug.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I talked big, but…”

“Hey, it’s fine. I did what I wanted to do. I couldn’t have done this six months ago, but now I stood in front of all these people and managed to not fuck it all up. I’ll count that as a win.”

“I bet Alice has access to the full vote results. Let’s ask her how you did.”

“I don’t think I want to know.”

We caught mom wiping a single tear off her eye and suddenly got worried.

“M-Mom!?” Isabelle asked her.

Mom shook her head with a chuckle. “It’s nothing, dear. Just… You’ve both gone through a great deal of maturing this year. You have no idea how happy it makes me to see it, and what a relief it is.”

“I don’t know,” Isabelle said, sighing. “I still think I’m not quite there yet.”

“Same.”

“Oh, for sure,” Mom said, laughing. Isabelle pouted with puffed cheeks, so mom continued. “Neither of you are, but you’re not expected to be. Keep walking and standing up after every fall. That’s the only way you’ll continue to grow and become who you want to be.”

“...Sorry to make you worry, mom,” I told her.

“I won’t ever stop worrying, so save it.”

Guess she wouldn’t.

The school day was technically over and we could all go home, but Mom and Isabelle went back home before me since I needed to stay and meet some people.

I texted Mila, asking her if we should meet in the club room. She said they were already there.

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