Page 159 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Come on,” Lila says, tugging on my hand.
“What?”
“We have to help her.”
Suddenly, Jocelyn gasps and stops singing. She presses her face into the back of her hand, still gripping the microphone, while the track continues to play.
People around the room are looking at each other, concern on their faces, but no one is making any move to help her or get her off the stage.
No one but Lila.
I nod and stand up, letting Lila lead me around the perimeter of the room to the stage. She waits while I climb the stairs and cross to where Jocelyn is standing. She hasn’t sung a word in almost a full minute. I tug the microphone out of her hands and hand it back to the deejay. “Come on, Jos,” I say gently. “You don’t have to do this.”
She sniffs and lets me guide her off the stage, my arm around her shoulders.
There’s an empty table behind the stage where Lila is waiting with a clean napkin and a glass of water. Jocelyn drops into a chair. “I’m going to regret this tomorrow, aren’t I?” she says, her voice small.
I nudge the water glass toward her. She probably will regret it. I’m not going to patronize her by telling her differently.
“I’m so mad at you, Perry,” she says. “Do you want to know why?” She looks up, tears pooling in her eyes. She doesn’t give me the chance to respond before she says, “Because you’re happy. And I’m still miserable. I’m miserable, and I ruined karaoke.” She chokes out a sob.
On second thought, I’m not sure shewillregret this tomorrow. She probably won’t evenrememberit. I’ve never seen her so drunk. “You didn’t ruin anything,” I say. “Karaoke is fine.”
“It isn’t fine,” she wails. “No one is singing. Someone needs to sing so people stop thinking about me looking so stupid.” She tries to stand up. “I’ll just go up and do a different—”
“Nope. You aren’t going back up there,” I say, gently pushing her back into her seat.
“I can do it,” Lila says, stepping forward. “I can sing.”
Jocelyn turns her gaze on Lila, and I tense. “Of course you can,” she says with a defeated laugh. “And you’ll probably sound amazing too. Because of course you will.”
Lila looks at me, a question in her eyes.
“Are you sure?” I ask. She doesn’t owe Jocelyn anything. Someone else can save karaoke, and we can just leave. That’s pretty much all I feel like doing anyway.
Lila shrugs. “Why not? I did say I like karaoke.” Her eyes sparkle, and another shot of warmth fills my chest. How many times is that going to happen tonight?
She moves toward the stage, reaching out to squeeze my hand on her way. Then she’s climbing the stairs while my heart is climbing into my throat.
The deejay meets her with the microphone, and she whispers to him, probably giving him her song choice. “Okay,” Lila says into the microphone with exaggerated flair. “Who spiked the punch?”
The crowd laughs, and the tension in the room immediately eases. “Y’all don’t know me,” Lila continues, “but . . . well, someone needs to sing, so why not, right? I’m only doing one song though, so somebody better be planning what they’re going to sing next.”
A few people whoop from the crowd, and Lila smiles.
I keep one eye on Jocelyn, who has dropped her head onto the table, then move so I’m better positioned to see the stage. I have no idea what song Lila will sing, but even just seeing her standthere in front of everyone, the way she’s joking and making everything feel easier—she’s amazing.
And then she starts to sing.
Lila isn’t just good, she sounds like a professional. Like this isn’t karaoke but an actual concert. She’s singing an easy, stripped-down variation of "Can’t Help Falling in Love,"and she’s . . . I’m genuinely speechless.
I try not to focus too much on the lyrics. It’s too soon to think she chose the song on purpose. That she’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t miss how much Iwantthe lyrics to mean something. The crowd is silent when she sings, which never seems to happen in a traditional karaoke setting, but Lila’s voice demands the silence, demands the full attention of everyone in the room.
When she finishes the song, every single person jumps to their feet.
Lila said someone else better be planning to sing, but I can’t imagine anyone wanting to follow her performance.
“Thanks, ya’ll,” she says when the cheering finally stops. “But I meant what I said. Who’s getting up here next?”
