Error.
Megs pursed her lips. It wasn’t an internet issue, then. She started to sweat. What was she supposed to do now? The drop deadline was in less than eight hours, and she wasn’t holding out hope that somehow this issue would be resolved by then.
“Are you watching that video about the rhinos going extinct again?” Sylvia asked. Megs blinked in confusion. Her mother motioned to her face. “Your jaw was hanging open, and you looked like you were going to be sick.”
Megs snapped her computer shut. “No. Just working on something.”
“What?”
Megs wracked her brain. School? No, she couldn’t mention anything about her impulsive enrollment. The certification course? Nope. Not digging herself deeper on that one since she had to find some way to explain why she wouldn’t be passing. The audition? Absolutely not.
Megs swallowed hard. Her entire life was a lie, and here she was, sitting across from the woman who gave her life, not admitting any part of it. “Paperwork. For . . . voter registration.”
Sylvia frowned. “I thought you were already registered to vote?”
“I decided to change my party affiliation.”
Her mother gasped. “Are you—?” She looked around the room, searching for who knew what. “Did someone convince you to vote Republican?”
Megs nearly laughed out loud. How she’d thought that politics would be less controversial than the actual issues in her life was beyond her. “No, Mom. Independent.”
“Well, it’s a slippery slope.” Sylvia lowered her glasses and narrowed her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Megs shook her head and stood, slipping her laptop under her arm. “I’m fine, Mom.”
“Well, I’ll just count my lucky stars you’re invested in this country instead of refusing to vote like half your generation,” her mom mumbled to herself as Megs took her computer into her room.
She flopped into her desk chair and pulled her headphones from the drawer. She would try to drop the class, as the note on her wrist reminded her, every hour and hope she got lucky. Until then, she may as well look at the file she’d created in Gideon’s study. Just the thought of him sent goosebumps in a wave up her arm.
With a deep breath, Megs clicked on the link to the software Gideon recommended and downloaded it, then read a couple of tutorials showing how to import her file and begin cleaning it up. The importing was easy, but the editing? Her brain blurred at the lines of text and bullet points and clicked away from the site. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult to figure out by fiddling around.
Once her recording was in place, Megs pressed play. The sound of her own voice filled her ears, and she cringed. She’d submitted hundreds of virtual auditions thanks to COVID-19, but it never got easier. Somehow, hearing her voice extracted from the image of her face made it more abrasive.
She blew out a breath and continued, figuring out how to split the file and cut out her mistakes or extended breaths, then tinkered with the pitch and volume until it sounded almost professional to her untrained ears.
Megs saved the file, then double-checked the email for submission andhit ‘send’ before she could second guess herself. There. It was done. Even though she secretly resented her audition now that it had unintentionally cost her the course.
No, she’d cost herself the course, it wasn’t the audition’s fault. A course she didn’t want to take for a job she didn’t want to work, but what were the alternatives? Megs closed the laptop and lay back on her bed, her curls fanning out on the comforter.
The ink on her wrist caught her attention, and she groaned. What was wrong with Champlain’s computer system? They must know it had a bug, which meant they’d probably allow her to drop the class first thing in the morning if she called.
Megs rolled over and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, setting a reminder to call the school at eight o’clock during her shift. She had to drop that class. Not because she wanted more time with Gideon—though even rebutting that thought made her heart rate jump—but because she needed her three hundred dollars back. She’d been irresponsible, and she needed to set it right.
You should talk to someone about the course.His words echoed in her mind. Maybe Gideon was right. Maybe she should find a time to drive up and beg for re-admittance. The worst they could say was no.
Megs’ phone buzzed, and her heart leaped as she glanced down at the screen.Not Gideon.
Heading to karaoke. See you there?
Megs attemptedto muster enthusiasm for Haley’s text despite the queasiness in her stomach. She needed a distraction, and whileIt Must Have Been LoveandSweet Carolineweren’t going to suddenly make her brain functional, they would at least remind her why she should wake up tomorrow morning and try again.
Megs opened her messages and hovered over Gideon’s name. She should thank him, shouldn’t she? Even if it were stupid to audition in the first place, he’d helped her produce something passable.
Thank you for your help with the audition. Just submitted.
Bad idea,bad idea,she shouted internally as her thumbs ignored her and kept typing.
Off the record, how was the rest of your day?
