Page 39 of Sending Love Letters to Animals

Mr. Melvin and I exchanged incredulous looks, but moved on to the next name. A sophomore boy, Blake Nelson, got up on stage and performed If You Were Gay from Avenue Q—sans puppets and signing partner. It was ambitious, and it mostly paid off, though it definitely wasn’t a song he could perform at the recital. Well, if it had been up to me, he could have sung it, but Mr. Melvin was the rule-maker.

He was thanked and given the same spiel as everyone else. His name received a checkmark.

The eighth and ninth auditioners, Sarah Crumby and Monique Jones, performed Take Me or Leave Me from Rent. Another song that Mr. Melvin would never approve for the recital, but both girls absolutely crushed it. Two more checks were written by their names, and the spiel was given once more by Mr. Melvin. It became apparent that most of the people who had signed up to audition were good enough to be in the recital, save Grady Morehouse. If the tenth person nailed their audition, Elle Markum was going to be cut, though she wasn’t horrible.

When Mr. Melvin read out the final name, I nearly fell out of my seat. I whipped my head around to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake. Davud was the only person left behind us, and it had been his name Mr. Melvin had hollered out. My eyes followed Davud as he wheeled himself down the aisle towards the stage and made his way up the curvy ramp off to the side.

Davud wheeled over to Mrs. Watson and handed her his sheet music, then made his way to upstage center. At first, I felt uneasy with Davud auditioning since I was partly in charge of deciding who got selected. However, he gave me a wink and a grin from his place on the stage, and it dawned on me that Davud had only signed up to audition as a way of supporting me. He didn’t care if he was selected or not. In fact, he probably only chose to audition since he knew he wouldn’t be selected.

And it was a good thing.

I’ll Cover You from Rent was Davud’s selection, and he absolutely butchered it. Mr. Melvin stared silently, his face blank, as Davud wheeled himself dramatically around the stage, gesturing dramatically, singing nearly every note off-key. It was all I could do to keep from cackling maniacally at his horrible performance. When Mrs. Watson hit the final note on the piano, and Davud’s warbly voice tapered off, the auditorium grew silent. I pressed my lips together tightly so that I wouldn’t laugh as Davud wheeled himself to the front of the stage again.

Mrs. Watson immediately got up from the piano and left, obviously needing to get far away before she started laughing. Mr. Melvin stared up at Davud for what seemed like hours before finally speaking.

“Thank you, Davud,” he said, finally. “The list will be up tomorrow.”

“I’ll be watching for it,” Davud replied enthusiastically.

Mr. Melvin glanced at me, drew a line through Davud’s name, and stood.

“I think we have our eight?” He murmured down at me.

I gave him a nod, and then he dashed away like Mrs. Watson. The two of them were probably going to meet in the Teacher’s Lounge to hold each other and laugh until they cried. When I heard the auditorium doors clang shut at the back of the room, I stood from my seat and walked down to the stage. Davud grinned down at me as I shook my head and smiled up at him.

“I don’t think you’ll make the cut,” I said.

“Oh? Darn. My Broadway career ended before it began.”

“That was…truly…awful. Thank you.”

“That’s what friends are for,” he said. “I live to keep things interesting.”

“It was definitely interesting,” I said with a laugh. “But, really, thanks. Grady was going to be pissed if he was the only one cut.”

“He’ll probably be pissed anyway.”

“Well, yeah. Probably. But you also saved Elle.”

“I’m such a good person.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “Incredibly brave, too.”

Davud puffed his chest out dramatically and looked off proudly into the distance.

“You know,” I said, “if you’re brave enough to get up there and sing—poorly—you’re brave enough to deal with the stairs at Jules’ house.”

Davud rolled his eyes.

“It’s not about bravery,” he said. “You know that, right?”

“Fair,” I replied. “But if you can do…whatever that performance was…you can come to movie night tomorrow.”

He stared at me.

“Please?” I smiled awkwardly, all of my teeth showing.

“You look pretty strong,” he shrugged after a few moments of considering me. “If you don’t mind helping me with the stairs…yeah, I guess I’ll come to movie night.”