A Simple Song (16 page)

Breezy shrugged. “I guess I wasn't thinking of it like that. I just wanted to have fun.”

“Well, you better ask yourself if you just wanna have fun or if you wanna try to win this thing,” Cowboy told her as the elevator carried them up. “If all you want is fun, you might as well go home now.”

As Katrina and Breezy got off on their floor, Breezy paused to remove her high-heeled shoes. “My feet are killing me,” she said.

“Why do you wear shoes that hurt your feet?”

Breezy laughed as she twirled a bright pink shoe around on her finger. “Because they're hot and make me look sexy.”

Katrina sighed, wondering if she would ever understand the English way of thinking. If something hurt them—like wearing painful shoes or drinking too much alcohol—why would they keep on doing it?

It wasn't until the following evening, after they'd done their stage rehearsal with instrumental musicians and lights and all sorts of technical things Katrina didn't understand, that Breezy began to pressure her about clothing. Aunt Alma had just delivered them a bunch of food orders—after they'd all gotten hungry at seeing what she'd brought earlier for Katrina. Now everyone was sitting on the floor in the hallway having an indoor picnic.

“It's fine for you to wear your little Amish dress if you're competing solo,” Breezy told Katrina, “but when you're part of our group, it's only fair that you should dress like the rest of us. Otherwise you're putting us all at risk of getting kicked out.” She peered at Katrina. “Would you really want to see us sent home just because you refused to dress appropriately?”

“Appropriately?” Katrina looked at Breezy's sleeveless shirt—if one could call it a shirt. One whole shoulder was missing. Katrina's camisole was more modest.

“We're dressing like the sixties,” Breezy explained, “to go with the song.”

“Yeah, I've got these funky plaid bell-bottoms,” Tyler said.

“And I've got a retro minidress and white knee-high boots,” Lulu told her.

“I've got these awesome paisley bell-bottoms,” Breezy explained, “with a macramé halter top.”

“I've got a leather vest with long fringe,” Cowboy added.

“Katrina,” Aunt Alma said, “you could wear Mamm's dress and boots.”

“What's that?” Breezy asked.

“Something of her grandmother's,” Aunt Alma explained.

“But I don't want—”

“Katrina,” Breezy interrupted. “You have to cooperate with us. It's no different than me agreeing to not drink alcohol. If I give up something, you give up something.”

“But her grandma's dress?” Lulu looked skeptical. “That's probably not going to work.”

Suddenly they were arguing again, and Katrina's head was starting to hurt again. “Excuse me,” she said as she stood up. “I need to use the restroom.” The sounds of their voices followed her down the hallway, as did the sounds of the voices of other groups. Sometimes it seemed there was no place to go to escape the constant noise. Even at night she could hear the sounds of sirens and things on the street. How did English people stand it, day after day, for their entire lives?

After using the toilet, Katrina stood in front of a mirror as she washed her hands. She had never seen so many mirrors. Every bathroom had them. And not little ones, either—most of them had great big mirrors that took up entire walls. Just now it was reassuring to see her reflection. With her white
kapp
and her shawl and apron still neatly pinned in their places over her plain blue dress, she felt as if there was still a smidgeon of order left in the world. As she adjusted her
kapp
strings, she tried not to feel pride as she compared her sensible clothing to what her new friends wore. Katrina had no concerns about anything slipping off or revealing too much. Not that Breezy or Lulu, or any of the girls, for that matter, seemed particularly concerned about modesty. Even some of the boys didn't seem to mind that their undershorts showed when they bent over. Had they not heard of suspenders?

Katrina disliked feeling so judgmental and knew it was wrong to feel pride. But so many things about these young people confused her—their dress, their talk, their love of attention, their eagerness to argue—and yet she liked them. Despite all their differences, they had qualities about them that reminded her of friends at home. Breezy's bossiness and enthusiasm reminded her of Bekka. Tyler's gentle concern for her welfare reminded her of Cooper. In some ways they were worlds apart, and in some ways they were not so different.

“Are you all right?” Aunt Alma asked as she joined Katrina in the restroom.

“
Ja
. I am fine. Just tired, I think.”

“Your friends are concerned that they offended you.”

Katrina sighed. “No . . . I'm just confused. What do you think I should do? Would it be wrong to dress in English clothes?”

“You are in the English world . . . competing in an English contest,” Aunt Alma pointed out.

“You think it's all right?”

Aunt Alma shrugged. “Only you can make that decision, Katrina.”

“
Ja
. I know.”

“Your friends want to practice the song some more.” Aunt Alma patted Katrina on the back. “I am going to the room. Unless you need me.”

“No. You go on up.” She could tell Aunt Alma was weary. Katrina understood this kind of weariness—it was a tiredness that seeped into the soul. It was easier to cook and clean and garden from dawn until dusk than to live here in this English hotel with all the noise and activity. The English world was not only confusing, it was exhausting. Even the singing had lost its joy. Rehearsing the same song again and again—until she almost felt she hated it. Truly, the only thing keeping her going was the hope that she might be able to win enough money to get Daed his surgery.

Breezy and Lulu helped Katrina to dress for their performance on Wednesday. Because they weren't scheduled to compete until seven o'clock, Katrina had simply dressed in her usual clothes that morning. Naturally, this had gotten the producers' attention, and she'd been interviewed twice as to her wardrobe choices. At her group's suggestion, she'd told everyone they would have to wait and see.

“Your hair is perfect,” Breezy said as she brushed out Katrina's waist-length brown hair.

“And this dress and these boots,” said Lulu, “are awesome. Seriously, you could sell these on eBay for a small fortune.”

“I'd buy them from you,” Breezy told her. “And since we're about the same size, they'd probably fit me too.”

“I can't sell them,” Katrina said.

“Now for some makeup.” Breezy pulled out a small tube.

“No,” Katrina told her. She'd watched these girls painting their faces. She was not going to let them do it to her.

“You need just a little,” Breezy said. “So you don't look shiny in the camera. You heard what Brandy said earlier.”

Katrina sighed. “All right. But just enough for the camera.”

“Don't worry. We're trying to look like the sixties,” Breezy said. “They liked a natural look. Close your eyes and trust us.”

A few minutes later, they pushed Katrina in front of the closet mirror to look at herself. But she didn't recognize the girl in front of her. “I'm not me.”

“Yes, you are,” Breezy said. “Just a different kind of you.”

“You look really pretty,” Lulu told her.

Just then Aunt Alma came in, and when she saw Katrina, she put her hand over her mouth and began giggling. “Oh, my.”

“Is this a mistake?”

“No, no.” Aunt Alma set a bag on the counter. She had found a nearby grocery store and visited it to replenish their supplies.

“Time to go,” Breezy said. “We'll be on deck in twenty minutes.”

“I wish I could watch,” Aunt Alma said.

“After today—if I'm not sent home—we'll be recording at the
American Star
studio instead of the hotel, and I'll be given tickets,” Katrina told her. “And you can come.”

“Yeah,” Lulu said. “
After
the next cuts.”

“Let's go, girls.” Breezy was pushing them toward the door. “Tell us to break a leg,” she called to Aunt Alma.

“Oh, no, please, don't break any bones,” Aunt Alma called back. Breezy and Lulu just laughed, but Katrina wondered if wearing these strange tall shoes, including Mammi's old boots, which made walking a challenge, might not be inviting a broken leg.

Tyler and Cowboy were already waiting on deck when the girls returned to the ballroom. Their group was the last one
to perform, and since the eliminations would begin after the final performances, all the contestants had remained in the audience. Katrina could feel the anxiety in the air. No one wanted to be sent home. Except maybe her, although that was the selfish part of her—the other part of her wanted to win the money for Daed. This was what she kept in mind when Bruce announced that it was their turn to take the stage.

In her center position, where she knew she was supposed to take five steps forward when she did her solo and five steps back for the others to do theirs and finally move forward again for the end of the song, she took in a deep breath and waited for the music to begin. She felt like someone else as she sang the strange lyrics—words she still hadn't figured out—but wearing Mammi's old dress, she imagined she was Mammi all those many years ago. Everyone in her group did their best performance ever, and when the song ended, she knew that no one could feel sorry or guilty.

The audience seemed to agree as they erupted in applause, and the judges, clapping with equal enthusiasm, stood as if to show their approval. “We got a standing ovation,” Tyler whispered to her as the crowd settled down.

“That was beautiful,” Jack Smack said loudly. “Truly beautiful. I feel like you kids got it. You took us right back to the sixties, and then you did it even better. The Fifth Dimension would be proud.”

“I agree,” Ricky said. “Every one of you pulled your weight tonight. You kids were spot on. Good job!”

“Really, really nice,” Celeste said. “Not just the arrangement, which was brilliant, but your voices and how they blended.” She laughed. “Even your wardrobe is perfect.” She pointed at Katrina. “And I am so proud of you, honey. I
was so worried that you were going to come out in your little Amish dress. I'm sorry, but that would not have worked. If you want to compete—if you want to win
American Star
—you have to be willing to take some risks. And you did that tonight, Katrina. Good for you!”

As they exited the stage, the judges were conversing and looking at the papers in front of them, and Katrina knew they were deciding who would go and who would stay. Despite all her earlier reservations and tiredness, she did not want to be sent home. Being on the stage just now, singing together in front of everyone, was exciting and exhilarating. She felt strangely energized.

The judges brought the groups back one by one and gave them some more comments and critiques. They slowly divided people into groups, sending some to one side of the ballroom and the rest to the other. Sometimes they would send a whole group to one side, but usually they split the groups up. Finally it was Katrina's group's turn, and after some discussion, the judges sent the whole group to the left side of the room.

“Now it's time for the big moment,” Bruce said from up front. “Time to find out who stays and who goes. I know you're all nervous. I can see it on your faces. And I could keep talking and making you feel even more nervous . . . but instead, I will put you out of your misery.” He pointed to the right side of the room. “All you guys here—you can put your minds at ease and you can pack your bags—because you are all going home.” He made an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.” Now he pointed to the left side. “And you guys—all forty of you are going to the next level. As you know, the rest of the show will be filmed at our studio.”

Bruce waited for the contestants who were going home to cry and complain and hug each other until eventually they left. After that he explained what the next challenge would be for those who remained. “You need to reorganize yourselves into groups of four,” he told them. “This time you'll be doing a song from the seventies. Groups of four doing the seventies. Tomorrow will be another practice day, and Friday you will perform. Good luck and goodnight.”

As everyone began scrambling to find groups of four, Breezy, Lulu, Cowboy, Tyler, and Katrina clustered together in a corner. Of course, a cameraman was filming the whole thing. “One of us has gotta go,” Breezy said quickly. “And the sooner we decide, the better chance that person will have of getting in a good group. Now, I think it makes sense for a girl to go. That way we'll have two girls and two guys.”

Everyone nodded, but no one said anything.

Katrina bit her lip. As much as she didn't want to go out and find a new group, she knew that she should offer to leave. “I'll go,” she told them.

“No, wait,” Tyler said. “If you go, I'm going too.”

“Don't do that.” Breezy held up her hands. “Let's vote. If y'all agree one girl should go, let's just vote.” She held up her forefinger. “One stands for me.” Now she held up two fingers. “Two for Katrina. And three is for Lulu. Hands behind your backs.” When the vote was counted, even though Katrina voted for herself to go, Lulu was the one who got voted out.

“I'm sorry,” Katrina told her. “I hope you find a good group.”

Lulu looked partly sad and partly mad as she hurried away.

Once again, they began to discuss and argue over songs. Breezy wanted to do “Hotel California,” but Tyler wanted “Stairway to Heaven” and Cowboy wanted to sing “American
Pie.” Finally they put it to a vote, which essentially meant it was up to Katrina to choose since she was the only one who hadn't suggested a song. Truthfully, she wasn't that familiar with these songs, although she'd heard “Stairway to Heaven” before, and even though she didn't know the lyrics, she had been intrigued by it. So it was decided they would do the Led Zeppelin song, and while Cowboy ran over to tell the producers they were taking this song, the others began to copy down the words from Tyler's iPad.