“Okay, Chantal, leave Mr. Mathison alone now. Let’s go find a table and get something to eat.”
“You don’t have to leave. Stay and eat with me.” Surprisingly, he meant the hastily offered invitation. Joy looked like she might object, but the server arrived with menus.
Lunch passed in a blur of sharing bad jokes and puns with Chantal. She was quick-witted and loved to joke. After they finished eating, he carefully folded his new picture and placed it in his wallet with a promise to display it on his fridge. Now, long before he was mentally ready, they were in Lyons at the middle school, where the concert would take place.
A tall, slender woman with kinky black hair met them in the foyer where they shared introductions. “I’m Ngozi Williams.” She pronounced it as ng-GOH-zi. She explained that a local choir was performing the concert, not at all connected to the school. They had rented the gym space to accommodate friends, family, and the community. She followed up by saying, “The children are in the gym. Follow me.”
Inside the gym, chaos reigned. Children laughed and screamed excitedly and raced around. Ngozi put her fingers to her lips and let out an ear-piercing whistle. Every child stopped dead and then raced over to them. Two teenage girls lagged behind the rest, clearly uninterested in what was happening and there under duress.
Ngozi introduced them and said, “I’ll be in the staff room if you need me.” She walked away, leaving thirty-two children, from six to sixteen, staring expectantly at them.
“Okay,” Joy clapped her hands. “Let’s set up for the first number and we’ll get started. Let’s do this thing.”
The kids scattered, most of them climbing onto the stage at the front of the gym. Seth, Joy, and Chantal walked up the center aisle between rows of folding chairs.
“Chantal, why don’t you sit over there? Seth, you can go on stage and keep an eye on things.” She flipped open the script for the concert, moved onto the stage, and stood at the microphone placed staged right.
Seth did as he was told, but he didn’t want to. He’d rather be the emcee. Several kids stood in the wide wing of the stage. A couple of boys were pushing and shoving each other back and forth. Seth made a psst sound and gave them a stern look. They fell silent, though the elbowing didn’t entirely cease.
Joy said, “I’ll read my introduction and then you’ll start singing.” She paused. “Do we have a conductor?”
“No,” the group called in perfect chorus.
Not good, Seth thought.
“Mr. Algimony was doing it, but he’s gone.”
Joy’s sigh was audible even without a microphone. “Is there anyone here who knows how to conduct?” When nobody answered, she asked if they usually had music.
“Mrs. Algimony plays the piano, we need music,” one of the teen girls said, rolling her eyes.
“I guess all the piano lessons I took will finally pay off.” Joy walked to the piano on the opposite side of the stage and sat. She flipped to the proper page in the music book, nodded to the kids, and started playing.
A few notes in, as one, the children opened their mouths andFrosty the Snowmanburst forth. They weren’t exactly in tune, and some voices were much louder than others, but they did well.
A young girl walked up to the microphone stand and pretended to use it. “I’m Amy. Our next song isOh, Holy Night. She returned to her place in front of the risers the children shared. Joy flipped a page and started playing.
They ran through song after song. A few had to be repeated to get them right or to clarify lyrics. Overall, the kids were good sports, with only a little grumbling.
Occasionally, the children rotated positions on the stage. Some songs had actions led by different children. The actions forMust Be Santahad Seth stifling a laugh. So far, neither of the teen girls had taken part, nor had the two oldest boys. He wondered if they were pranking him and Joy, or if their part came later. After five songs, he walked out on stage.
“Okay, we seem to have a couple of non-participants. Someone want to tell me what’s going on?” He looked from child to child. If something was up, someone would crack.
A small brunette girl in the front row cast the older kids a nervous glance and raised her hand.
“Yes. What’s your name?”
“Wendy.” She stared at her toes.
“Go ahead, Wendy,” he urged. Joy walked to his side.
“Those kids are supposed to be singing too,” she whispered.
“Shut it,” the oldest boy snapped. “We don’t want to sing stupid songs.”
Seth waited a moment, hoping Joy would step in. He cast her a glance, and she looked away. She was taking their roles seriously. He didn’t want to admit that she was right to do so. He hated dealing with kids. Especially teens with attitude. This was way out of his league.
“Come out here,” he said. He gave the uncooperative kids ‘the look’. They trudged forward, shuffling their feet. “So, you don’t want to sing?”
