Page 32 of Just Ten Seconds

“That’s okay. I sing like an angel. At least, that’s what my dad says. I get it from my mom. Do you want to see a picture of her?”

Before I can respond, she’s up, and she runs out of the room, leaving me in the virtual Raymour & Flanigan showroom. There isn’t even a photo of Amanda in the space.

I lied. It doesn’t feel staged. It feels sterile.

Amanda’s footsteps are heavy as she runs down the stairs, making her entrance anything but stealthy. She comes back with a picture frame in her good hand and a packet of papers pinned between her body and her cast. She holds the picture frame out to me.

While Amanda looks like her father, she has her mother’s hair. It’s a deep burgundy and absolutely stunning. The kind women pay thousands of dollars for at a salon. Trust me, I know. I tried about five years ago.

“She was very pretty,” I say.

“I know.” She places the frame on the table and then hands me a packet of papers from the end table. “Here are the lines we need for the audition. Everyone has to do this scene and sing a song.”

I take the page and see it’s the part where Ariel is fighting with her father.

Amanda stands up and reads from the paper, “Daddy, you don’t understand. This is my life, and I’ll do what I want with it.”

She looks up at me with wide eyes, and I remember I’m supposed to be reading the role of King Triton. “You listen, young lady. As long as you’re under my reef, you will follow my rules!”

“You’re cruel,” she reads.

“And you’re a child,” I read back.

We follow through to the end of the scene. When we’re done, we go back to the top and try it one more time. Since she’s only eight, I’m not going to be hard on her, but since they asked me to come here, I will give her my honesty.

“It was good, but you can do better.”

Her tiny body slouches with a frown. “Was I robotic?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what my friend said. What does that even mean?”

“It means, you’re saying the lines, but you’re not saying them with emotion, as if you really were in a fight with your dad.” I lean back and run my teeth over my lip, thinking about the best way to get Amanda to open up a little. “When I was a kid, I was a klutz, so my mom took me out of sports and enrolled me in community theater. I had this amazing teacher who taught me a technique I’d like to show you. May I?”

She nods enthusiastically.

“Sit down.” I usher her toward the spot on the couch she occupied before.

Amanda complies easily.

“Close your eyes.”

Amanda closes them and then quickly opens them up.

“Close,” I say with a small laugh.

She closes them again.

“Now, breathe in and slowly breathe out.” I go through a breathing technique to relax her. “Think of a place that you love to go. A place that makes you feel happy and peaceful at the same time.”

Her chin rises slightly. “The beach.”

“Good. Now, picture yourself at the beach. Feel the sun warming your skin. Dig your feet into the sand. Can you feel it?”

Her toes shift. “I’m pushing them into the sand. It’s hot but not too hot.”

“That’s right. What else do you see?”