A Simple Song (15 page)

The next morning, Katrina and Aunt Alma both woke up a little after six. “It might be too soon to wake up Breezy,” Katrina said quietly. “The English don't get up as early as we do. And she got to bed awfully late.”

They tiptoed about with only the light from the bathroom, whispering as they got dressed and braided their hair and even had their breakfast. Finally it was eight o'clock, and Katrina was ready to go downstairs. “Let's open the heavy curtains and let the light in,” she said. “Maybe that will help to wake her up.”

Even with the light pouring in, Breezy continued to sleep. Katrina decided to nudge her. “Breezy,” she said quietly. “You might want to get up now.”

“Leave me alone,” Breezy said with a growl. “I wanna sleep in.”

“All right.” Katrina stood. “But
American Star
will begin in—”

“American Star!”
Breezy threw off the blanket and jumped out of bed. “What time is it?” She gaped at the clock, then shrieked. “Why didn't y'all wake me up?”

“We tried—”

“Never mind,” she yelled as she tore off to the bathroom.

Katrina and Aunt Alma just exchanged looks and quietly slipped out. “I hope she's not late,” Katrina said as they went down on the elevator. She had her packet of information in her arms and knew that a contestant could be “sent home” for being late. That's what they called it—
sending someone home
when they were no longer in the competition. Katrina had read it all carefully several times yesterday. Still, she wasn't so sure that even
American Star
could send her home—not if her family refused to accept her back.

Before long, they were standing in line with the other contestants. Katrina tried to ignore all the curious looks, the whispered questions, and the blatant stares they were getting. She was used to English rudeness, but she did wonder how they would feel if it were reversed. What if everyone stared at them? Some of them seemed to invite staring. She'd never seen such strange haircuts and hair colors, and it seemed that many of these people had pictures printed right on their skin. She overheard a girl complimenting another girl, pointing to her drawing of a horse with a horn and saying “Nice tattoo,” so she assumed that's what the body art was called. There was also some very odd jewelry. At least she thought that was what it was, although jewelry wasn't allowed in their Ordnung. Here she saw gold and silver sticking out of noses, eyebrows, and even lips! And the clothing—or sometimes the lack of clothing—it all made Katrina want to stare too. But she controlled herself.

“Are you really going to compete?” a young man asked her. “Or are you just here to watch?”

She studied him. He was nice looking for an English
young man. His sandy brown hair was neatly cut, his face was shaven, and his brown eyes looked sincere. He was even dressed in a light blue shirt and tan pants that looked as if they'd been recently pressed. In fact, she decided, he stood out from the others for looking tidy and clean.

“Ja.”
She nodded. “I'm here to compete.”

“So you're not just a stunt like some of them are saying?”

“I don't know what they're saying.”

“Some of them saw you arrive in a stretch limo yesterday. With Brandy and some cameramen. They think you're a setup. Probably to improve ratings.”

She frowned. “I'm not really sure what you mean. But I assure you, I am here to sing.”

He grinned. “Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. My name's Tyler Jones. I'm here to sing too.”

“I'm sorry,” she told him. “I didn't mean to be rude. My name is Katrina Yoder.”

“I know. Everyone knows who you are.”

She blinked, trying not to show her surprise. “This is my aunt, Alma Yoder.”

He shook both their hands. “Nice to meet you. Where are you from?”

“Holmes County, Ohio,” Aunt Alma proudly proclaimed.

“I'm from Indiana. That makes us kinda like neighbors.”

“
Ja
. . . I suppose that's true.”

“You're Amish, right?”

“That's right.”

“We drove through an Amish community once,” he said with enthusiasm. “I thought it was so cool. I told my parents that when I grew up I was going to become Amish too.”

Katrina couldn't help but laugh.

“I meant it. I like all that old-fashioned stuff. I think I could do it.”

“It's not just about living the old ways,” Katrina told him. “It's about serving God too. And serving others.”

“But they let you come do this?” He waved his hand.

Katrina let out a sigh, but before she had to answer, someone was up on the stage in front, trying to get everyone's attention. “It's time to take your seats,” the man said. “You can sit wherever you like this time. But only contestants, please.”

Katrina looked at her aunt. “I think that means you have to go now.”

“I will wait out there.” She pointed out the door.

“You have your key,” Katrina reminded her, “if you need to go to the room for anything. Or just to put your feet up.”

Aunt Alma laughed. “Put my feet up at this time of day?”

Katrina just waved, and then, with Tyler trailing her, she found a seat and he sat right next to her. Suddenly Bruce Betner was on the stage, talking into the microphone. “Welcome, everyone,” he told them. He took a few minutes to introduce the panel of judges, who were sitting down in front of the stage. It sounded as if they were all very experienced in the music business.

“Well, here we are,” Bruce said cheerfully. “The fun is about to begin. As you can see in your packets, you've been given a number for this morning. That number is for the elimination round. There are ten contestants in each group. When your number is called, you will come up to the stage and have a sing-off with the others in your group. You only get one minute to sing, so have your song ready to go. And there are no do-overs. If you blow it, you blow it, and it'll be adios, amigo.”

Katrina frowned, trying to make sense of what he'd just said.

“That means goodbye, you're going home,” Tyler whispered.

She nodded.

“Okay, it's time for all you lucky number ones to get on up here. There will be no mikes. Just you and your pipes and the judges. Come on up, group number one. You're on.”

As ten contestants from different parts of the room hurried up to the stage, Bruce continued to talk. “Those of you in group number two can come up here to the holding area. You'll be on deck and ready to go. Group three follows, and you get the picture. Remember, if you're late or a no-show, that's it. No second chances at this stage of the game. Today is all about eliminations. We are thinning the herd.” He laughed, then looked over his shoulder. “Great, it looks like all ten of group number one made it. Good job, guys and gals. Now who's the lucky person with number 1-A for this morning? As you probably guessed, that means you go first.”

A petite, dark-haired girl raised her hand.

“Tell us your name and where you're from and the title of your song, and go.”

“I'm Lulu Bannister from Atlanta, Georgia, and I'm singing ‘Rolling in the Deep.'” The room was quiet as she sang a song that Katrina had never heard. But she seemed to have a good voice, and when she finished—after Bruce waved his hands for her to stop—everyone clapped with enthusiasm, including Katrina. On they went until all ten had their one minute of singing. Some, like Lulu, were good and everyone clapped. Others struggled, like a boy named Brandon who was so nervous his voice cracked. Katrina felt sorry for him.

Then the judges talked amongst themselves, and after a bit they told some singers to step forward and some to step back and some to step to the left and then the right. Finally only Lulu Bannister stood in the middle of the stage.

“Congratulations, Lulu,” Celeste called out from where the judges were seated. “You have made it to the next level.”

Katrina was shocked that only one had been chosen. Some of the contestants were actually crying, and one girl was begging for a second chance—to sing again.

“Are the other nine really going home?” she whispered to Tyler. “Already?”

He nodded glumly. “This is how it works.” Yet based on the comments she was hearing, it seemed that almost everyone was as shocked as Katrina. Would they all be sent home?

“I wonder if the judges are in a bad mood,” Tyler said quietly as the second bunch of singers assembled themselves on the stage. They looked even more nervous than the first group. “What group are you in?” he asked her.

“Group six,” she told him.

“I'm in group four.”

Katrina was relieved to see that four people from this group made it to the next level. As group three went onstage, Tyler went down to the holding area. Katrina watched as they took turns singing, including Breezy. Apparently she had made it downstairs in time after all, but would she be able to sing? To Katrina's relief, not only did Breezy sing, but she seemed to do a good job, and everyone clapped with enthusiasm. When it was time to “send people home,” Breezy remained.

Next Tyler's group was going up. It looked like Tyler would be the third one to sing. Katrina wondered if his voice was any good. The first two singers didn't seem very special, but
when Tyler sang what sounded like a ballad (which she now knew was what story songs were called), his voice was clear and strong and interesting. She thought he might have a real chance of staying. She hoped he would make it.

She held her breath as the judges rearranged his group, having them move forward and back. Finally Tyler and three others were told that they'd made the cut.

As the next group went to the stage, she knew it was time for her to go to the holding area. Her knees were shaking so badly, it felt strange to walk. As she walked, she silently prayed—begging God to help her to do this or send her home, assuming her family would take her. She straightened the strings on her white
kapp
, then smoothed her freshly pressed apron with trembling hands. Although she'd worn her favorite green dress and clean black stockings and had even polished her Sunday-best black shoes, she knew she looked very different from everyone here. She knew that her clothing was causing people to look curiously and to whisper amongst themselves. She told herself there was nothing she could do about this, but it made her even more nervous.

Katrina was so filled with anxiety, she couldn't really listen as the next group sang. It was as if her ears were stuffed with cotton. When the judges began to speak, she tried to pay attention. She felt even worse when she realized that only two girls had escaped being sent home. It seemed the judges were being very picky.

“Okay, group six, come on up,” Bruce said merrily, as if he was inviting them in for cookies and milk and not elimination.

Katrina knew she would be the third one to sing. She knew what song she planned to sing. According to Bekka, it had been described on the computer as Willow Tree's biggest hit.
The song was called “Windy Grove,” and Katrina loved singing it. She knew that Mammi had cowritten it with her friend Willy Brown. Whether it was because of the lilting music or the sweet words, singing it always made Katrina happy.

When her turn came, she gave them her information. Then, pushing out all thoughts of everything except the song, she took a deep breath and sang with abandon, putting her whole heart into it. When Bruce waved his hands for her to stop—after her minute was up—someone in the audience yelled out, “Let her keep singing.” Several others called out too.

“Hopefully we'll get to hear more from her later,” Bruce told them, “but for now it's just one minute for everyone.”

Everyone was clapping and cheering and whistling, and Katrina felt tears coming. Even if she did get sent home like so many of them, this was a truly wonderful moment. They liked her—she knew it in her soul. She couldn't wait to tell Aunt Alma how well these English kids had responded to her.

After hearing the last one in the group—a girl who partly yelled and partly sang—the judges began telling the singers to move back and forth and left and right. Katrina obeyed their instructions but was starting to feel confused and flustered because it seemed she'd been all over the stage. Would they ever decide? Finally she was the only one standing out in front.

Ricky Rodriguez waved his hand toward the stage. “Everyone behind Katrina Yoder, we thank you for your time, but you can go home now.”

She felt her heart pounding. Was she the only one in her group who had made it? Just like the first group? It seemed impossible.

“You're safe, Katrina,” Celeste assured her. “You're not going home.”

“Thank you!” Katrina said as she began to exit the stage. As relieved as she felt, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the others as they slunk away, some of them crying openly. With a pounding heart, she hurried down the steps, watching each one lest she fall on her face, because she knew it could happen—in fact, it probably would happen. Before this was all over, before they sent her home, she would probably fall on her face. Somehow she just knew it.

Breezy grabbed Katrina by the arm before she found her way back to her seat. “Come with me,” Breezy said urgently, guiding her to one of the exit doors.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. I just want to talk to you. But not in here,” she whispered.

“Don't we have to stay here?”

“No, it's okay.”

Breezy led Katrina out into the big hallway where a number of contestants were milling around, some in tears because they were going home and some dancing around joyfully. It was a strange mix. Just as Katrina spotted Aunt Alma sitting on a bench, working on some quilting, Tyler hurried over to join them.

“You were great, Katrina.” He grinned. “Really super. I never would've guessed you could sing like that. I was totally blown away.”

“Thank you . . . I think. Why were you blowing away?”

“Don't worry, it's a good thing,” Breezy told her. Then she turned to Tyler with a frown. “So who are you?”

Katrina introduced them.

“And you're still in it?” Breezy asked him.

“Yeah. I made the first cut.”

“Tyler sang beautifully,” Katrina told her.

“I guess I missed it. I barely made it here in time for my own group, and then I went, uh, to the restroom afterward.”

“You sang really well too,” Tyler told her. “I heard you.”

“We need a coalition,” Breezy told Katrina.

“A what?”

“We need to join forces,” Breezy said. “The next competition will probably be groups of four or five. We need to start forming our group.”

“That's true,” Tyler confirmed. “That's usually how it goes.”

“Will we each sing for a minute again? Or more?”

“No, it's not like that.” Breezy quickly explained that they would all sing a song together. “And we'll need choreography too.”

“What?” Katrina was lost.

“Don't worry, we'll help you,” Tyler said.

“So are we three together?” Breezy asked hopefully.

“Ja.”
Katrina nodded. “Sure, I think so.”

“We'll still need one or two more,” Breezy said. “I'll go back in and watch and see who the best candidates might be.” She reached out and shook hands with each of them. “So we have a deal then? The three of us and one or two more?”

They both agreed.

“Because everyone is going to want to sing with Katrina,” she told Tyler. “She's like the hottest commodity here.”

“What?” Katrina was even more confused. Sometimes it seemed like the English spoke a completely different language.

Breezy pointed at a cameraman coming their way. “See, that's what I'm talking about, Katrina. The cameras love you. The closer the other contestants can get to you, the better their chances of getting more camera time. We gotta protect you.”

“Hey, Katrina,” a young woman walking with the cameraman said, “you were great out there. Tell us how you're feeling right now.”

“Very confused,” she admitted.

They laughed. “That's understandable,” the woman told her. “I'm guessing you didn't grow up watching
American Star
like some kids.”

Katrina just shook her head. “No, not at all.”

“I grew up watching
American Star
,” Tyler said quietly. “My mom . . . before she died . . . absolutely loved this show. Even when she was in the hospital, she and I would lie there in her bed watching it.”

The cameraman pointed his camera at Tyler, and the woman held her mike in front of him. “You're Tyler Jones from Indiana, aren't you? Nice job out there today. I'm sorry about your mother. Go ahead and repeat what you just said, this time so the viewers can hear you.”

Tyler's brown eyes glistened as he explained how his mom had gone through several years of cancer treatments. “It's because of her that I'm here doing this.”

“Tell us what you think she'd be feeling right now, Tyler.”

“She would be real proud. Mom always loved hearing me sing. She said it made the pain go away. She used to tell me that I'd be on this show someday.”

“How long ago did she pass away?”

“A little more than a year ago.”

“So you and Katrina have something in common. Her
grandmother died recently too. Right, Katy?” The woman smiled. “Is it okay to call you Katy?”

Katrina shrugged. “I don't mind. I went by Katrina because there were three other Katys at my school.”

The woman laughed. “Okay then, maybe I should call you Katrina. Anyway, your grandmother was your inspiration for competing in
American Star
, right?”

Katrina considered this. “My grandmother was a singer. But I am competing here because I want to pay for my father's surgery. It's very expensive, and my friend thought I might have a chance to win some money.” She felt her cheeks warming, wishing she hadn't said that. It sounded as if she thought she was going to win. “But I didn't know there were so many contestants or that the show would take so many days. Now I'm not so sure . . . about anything.”

“I'll bet you're feeling pretty overwhelmed.”

Katrina just nodded. Then, noticing that Breezy looked a little left out, she pointed at her. “But my roommate, Breezy, is helpful. And she sang very well this morning. She isn't going home yet either.”

“Breezy”—the woman held the mike in front of her—“how is it having an Amish girl for a roommate?”

“Well, she doesn't use much closet space,” Breezy told her. “And she and her aunt keep cleaning our room. I told them there are hotel maids to do that, but they don't seem to care. You should've seen how neatly they made their bed this morning.”

“Maybe we'll send a camera crew to your room,” the woman said, “to give an inside peek. I'm sure our viewers would love that.”

She asked them all a few more questions, then finally moved
on to some other contestants—both the ones being sent home and the ones staying.

“That's nice they take time to speak to the ones not winning too,” Katrina said to Tyler as Breezy hurried back into the ballroom.

“It's because it makes for good TV,” he told her. “Viewers like seeing the winners and the losers.”

“Oh.” Katrina again noticed her aunt, sitting with her head bowed down as she sewed. “Do you want to meet my aunt?” Tyler seemed eager to meet Aunt Alma, and after telling her that they'd both made it through the first round and eating some of the food that Aunt Alma had brought along with her, they decided to go back inside to hear the others singing. By the end of the day, the group of two hundred had been cut down to seventy-five. Just as Breezy had predicted, it was announced that the next round of the competition would be with groups of five singers.

“We're going to have a blast from the past. Everyone will be singing songs from the sixties,” Bruce told them all. “Beatles, Stones, Turtles, Supremes, Jefferson Airplane, Iron Butterfly.” He laughed. “You get the picture. Since none of you were exactly around way back then, we've got lists of suggestions in the back. You'll have the rest of today and all of tomorrow to work on your act. Competition will start first thing on Wednesday morning.” He grinned. “Congratulations to today's winners. Enjoy it while you can, because after the next elimination almost half of you will be heading home.”

“He can be such a buzz kill sometimes,” Tyler said.

“Buzz kill?”

Tyler laughed. “Always reminding us that we can be history.”

“Hey.” Breezy grabbed Katrina by the elbow. “You gotta
meet these two.” She tipped her head to a guy wearing a big black hat and the petite, dark-haired girl who had been the only person in group one not sent home. “Cowboy and Lulu.”

The guy in the hat shook their hands. “My real name is Tommy, but everyone here is calling me Cowboy.”

Lulu smiled at Katrina. “You were really good. I had no idea Amish could sing.”

“We need to get busy,” Breezy told them. “Let's go out in the hallway where we can talk privately. I've got my iPad so we can start pulling up tunes.” She snatched one of the papers listing the song suggestions.

“I listen to songs from the sixties,” Katrina told them as Breezy ushered them down a hallway. “I really like Peter, Paul and Mary.”

“No, not them,” Breezy said. “Too tame.”

Suddenly they were all talking, going over the list and arguing about what group was the best and what song to sing. Katrina finally got tired of the bickering. “Excuse me,” she told them. “I need to go check on my aunt.” Relieved to escape the noise, she hurried over to where Aunt Alma was still working on the quilt. “How are you doing?” she asked.

Aunt Alma looked up and smiled. “I am not used to sitting so much.” She stood and rubbed her back. “Are we done now?”

Katrina explained about the new group of five and how they were supposed to choose a song and practice it a little. “Why don't you go back to our room? It's after seven o'clock.”

Aunt Alma seemed reluctant, but Katrina insisted. “I'll be with Breezy,” she assured her. “We'll come up together when we're done.”

Aunt Alma frowned. “Breezy might want to go drinking again.”

“I don't think so.” Katrina explained that she'd read in the
American Star
rules that any contestants caught in underage drinking would be automatically eliminated, and she knew that Breezy was only nineteen. “I plan to warn her of this.”

Aunt Alma nodded. “Good for you. I hope she listens. But remember, you can preach a better sermon with your life than with your lips.”

“
Ja
. That's true.”

Aunt Alma handed Katrina some of the leftover food from lunch, including a slightly smashed peanut butter and marshmallow spread sandwich. “You must eat,” she insisted. “Keep up your strength.”

Katrina thanked her, pausing to give thanks before she hungrily devoured the food. “You go and eat your supper too,” she told her aunt. Feeling somewhat fortified, Katrina returned to her new friends and was informed that they'd chosen the song “Aquarius” for their performance.

“It was originally recorded by the Fifth Dimension,” Tyler explained. “Their voices might be similar to ours.”

“Cowboy already went to register us,” Breezy said, “so no one else can take that song.”

“Aquarius?” Katrina tried to remember. “Yes, I think I've heard that on the radio.”

“I just loaded it on my iPod,” Breezy said. “And Tyler's got it on his iPad.”

“I what?” Katrina frowned.

“Never mind.” Breezy held up a sheet of paper. “We already wrote out the lyrics. Fortunately, it's a pretty simple song. But it's got all kinds of possibilities for harmony and solos and rearranging.”

Katrina felt lost again. But she studied the words on the
paper, and then someone started playing the music from a flat plastic thing. She couldn't believe all the things that could play music. Before long the five of them were singing it together. It was amazing how their voices, though all very different, actually sounded nice when combined. It reminded Katrina of how very different tasting ingredients, like salt, vanilla, baking soda, sugar, eggs, and flour, could be mixed together to make a delicious cake.

Breezy seemed to enjoy telling everyone what to do. Sometimes Cowboy and Lulu argued with her, but eventually they agreed. After they'd sung the song so many times that they all knew the words by heart, Breezy and Cowboy began directing the singers to move around as if they were on a stage.

“I'm not good at this,” Katrina admitted after bumping into someone for about the tenth time. “Maybe I should just sit and watch.”

“Your voice is so good that you make up for not dancing,” Lulu told her. “But how about if we simplify the choreography. Let's put Katrina in the center, and the four of us will dance around her. She can move forward and back, and hopefully no one will notice that she's not really dancing.”

Eventually, they worked out a routine that everyone seemed to like—and Katrina was able to do. But Katrina was so tired that her head was beginning to throb. She knew it was past eleven o'clock and long past her usual bedtime. “I'm sorry,” she finally told them, “but I need to get some sleep.”

“Katrina's right,” Tyler said. “We all need to get some sleep. We have all of tomorrow to get it really finessed.”

“But the night is still young,” Breezy insisted. “Y'all are a bunch of party poopers.”

“What did you have in mind?” Cowboy asked her.

“Let's all go get something to drink,” Breezy said. “Anyone else? I mean, besides Katrina.”

Katrina cleared her throat. “I read in the
American Star
rules,” she began carefully, “that underage alcohol drinking is not allowed. You could be sent home.”

“I'm twenty-one,” Cowboy told them. “I can have a beer if I want.”

“Breezy is only nineteen,” Katrina told him. “She's not old enough.”

“No one pays attention to those rules,” Breezy said.

“Listen to Katrina,” Tyler told her. “I say that anyone in our group who doesn't comply with the rules should be kicked out of our group. And I know there are plenty of other contestants who would be glad to take your place, Breezy. I just noticed a group down the hall that is having some serious issues. Maybe you want to trade with—”

“No thanks.” Breezy frowned.

“He's right,” Lulu agreed.

“Come on.” Katrina hooked her arm in Breezy's. “You were up late last night. You need a good night's sleep more than any of us.” Although it was a reluctant Breezy walking toward the elevators with them, Katrina was relieved that her roommate had given in.

“We're all investing ourselves in this competition,” Lulu told Breezy. “Why take the chance of blowing it all by partying?”