”And who is this, if I may ask?” said the girl who had introduced herself as Rachel and pouted, obviously annoyed at somebody else stealing the spotlight from her for a moment, even if it was an awkward rocker who was standing in the corner like a sulky teenager who didn’t look like she wanted to be there. Which I don’t, by the way. I don’t have much of an idea about how I got here and why. That overly nice spanish teacher who grabbed me between lessons and asked me to come to the choir room when I had time. I wanted to answer, where the fuck is that but I did remember I was supposed to behave myself and just asked why and where. He said something about a Glee club (whatever that is) and desperately needing new members. I realized I had nothing better to do as i didn’t know anybody here yet, so I might as well just see what he wanted, to keep my spanish grades up if nothing else.
”So, guys, as you know, we have a spot we need to fill right now, and we’re not the most popular in school at the moment so..”
”So you thought you’d try to convert the freak new girl before anybody tried to tell her otherwise.” a latino girl with attitude said and cut Mr curly hair short. He gave a lopsided smile.
”Well, pretty much, yeah.”
”Can she even sing?” Asked Rachel, still looking dissatisfied.
”Erm.. excuse me, but what am I supposed to be doing here?” I felt I had to cut in as i was feeling very confused.
”Great, she doesn’t even know who we are” Rachel said, annoyed.
”I was just about to come to that! You, Agnes, are new here, and I heard that you mentioned music as an interest for your interview for the school. We are New Directions, the Glee club in the school, and right now, we really need to recruit more members. So we were wondering if you would be interested in an audition? I know it’s a little strange to just grab you like this, but when we put audition sheets up, no one signs up..” he said and looked a little dissapointed.
”Glee club?” I said, not really feeling much wiser.
”Is she being serious?” the latina said. ”Have you been living under a stone or something?
”No, Britain,” I said shortly and gave a half-smile. She raised a plucked eyebrow, clearly not used to being cut short.
”A Glee club is where all the losers of the school unite and sing together and get slushied and bullied by the rest of the school for singing in a show choir.”
”Um, right.. So why do you want me? I’m obviously not one for jazzhands and I haven’t even got a good voice, so.. don’t really think I can help you.” I said, looking sceptically at the group of people.
”But we’re one person short for regionals this year, you can just mime in the background, we just need somebody! We’re desperate.” said a guy with designer clothes and a shrill voice that made my gaydar go off.
”Obviously,” the latina said under her breath and looked at me bitchily.
”All we’re asking for is a chance. Because as Santana says, nobody else will. Just give it a chance?” The teacher looked at me nearly pleadingly.
”Okay you know there’s a possibility she can’t sing? Don’t beg to hard.” Said a big girl who looked like a diva.
”I’ll be the judge of that, thank you Mercedes..” the teacher said.
”So.. what is it exactly you want me to do? Audition?” I asked, still confused.
”Just sing something! Right now if you know anything just like that.”
I thought about it for a moment. Although I had no idea what they actually was looking for, I had a feeling it really wasn’t me. But as they were pleading, I might as well sing something so that they turn me down and leave me in peace.
”Well, I really don’t think you want me in this show choir thing, but.. anybody got a guitar?” I said, still looking sceptic and thinking of a song.
A guy with muscles and a really weird looking mohawk gave me a guitar and winked. I thought for a moment and then asked, ”So… You familiar with Lady gaga? I happen to cover Edge of Glory kind of awesomly.” I said, raising their expectations so they would think I was shit, so I could get out of this weird place with this group of very mismatched people. Somebody made an exited face, and somebody looked at me even stranger than before. I struck a chord and sang Lady Gaga in my own way, in my british accent that sounded alien to everybody’s here, with my voice I’d been told was unique, which is really just another way of saying strange.
When I’d finished, i scratched my red, backcombed hair and raised my eyebrows, looked at loads of pairs of eyes looking back at me.
Skriven av: Parmesan