Page 48 of Sing Your Heart Out

Sarah

It’s the morning of the final elimination. I am awake when my alarm clock goes off. Then again, I don’t remember ever having slept last night.

Groaning, I sit up. The bed beside me is cold, the first time in two weeks it’s been completely vacated. My eyes don’t even water at the thought.

I cried for so long last night that all my tears are dried up. Why is Smith choosing today of all days to stress me out with this breakup stuff?

I know, but I’m still pissed off. How dare he put a single ounce of extra pressure on my shoulders today?

I take a few extra minutes getting dressed this morning, my nerves about today’s elimination growing with every moment. I should dress how I want people to see me when I leave here…

So I skip over my denim skirts and flowery shirts. Instead I choose a pair of slim fitting, curve hugging jeans and a simple white button up. I look at myself in the mirror, fluffing my hair and unbuttoning one more button than I am usually comfortable with.

After a little mascara, I nod at myself in the mirror. Sam Smith, eat your heart out.

After that I grab my guitar and my notebook, hurrying downstairs.

Dee is in the full swing of making breakfast for everyone: scrambled eggs, grilled ham, hash browns, sliced fruit salad, and fresh croissants. She nods to me as I come down.

“Morning. Sit down. I’ll fix you a plate.”

Sliding a look at my three competitors, I sit, relieved that Mellie saved me the seat on the end. Mellie smiles and touches my arm.

I wonder if she knows I was up all night, bawling my eyes out. Probably. The walls are pretty thin in this shiny new house…

Mellie doesn’t say anything though. She just goes back to shoveling hash browns in her mouth. I guess I really took my sweet time getting downstairs, because she’s almost done.

“You want some of everything?” Dee asks me.

Biting my lip, I shake my head. “Maybe eggs and a little fruit, if you don’t mind. Is there coffee too, by chance?”

Dwayne appears next to Dee, a silver coffee urn in his hand. “I got you, girl. Here.”

He grabs me a mug and pours me a little of the fragrant coffee.

I slide a look over to Smith, who is hunched over his plate. He doesn’t look up. He’s just busy powering through his meal.

I accept the coffee from Dwayne, sipping it. It tastes flavorless but I’m sure on any other day it would be delicious.

After forcing myself to eat a few bites, I drink the rest of my coffee. I’m starting to feel something closer to human than I was when I came down this morning.

At least I’ve got that going for me as we all transfer into the living room. There Dwayne sets up a CD player on a little folding try table.

I swallow as Dee turns, facing us. “Now you all know we had you record your four best songs this week. We aren’t looking for the best recording. We aren’t even looking for a great performance, honestly. What we are looking for is commercial salability. Okay? We told you that on Monday.”

Everyone nods silently. I swallow, my gaze wandering over to Smith. He’s looking right at me, although when our gazes meet he looks away immediately.

I shift in my seat and try to ignore him.

“Buckeye, do you want to go first?” Dee asks, calling him up.

Buckeye turns bright red. “Sure. Do I need to do anything?”

“You just sit right there and look pretty is all,” Dwayne says, holding up a CD case. “Let Daddy Dwayne be your DJ.”

If I’m honest, Blah’s songs slip right past me. Not because they’re no good, but because I’m so freaking nervous that I have to wipe my damp palms on my jeans several times.

When everyone starts politely applauding, I jump at little.

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