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The weeks flew by. Tsunami, Rechaka and the other pets in
the musical worked hard at their rehearsals. Shell could sense a change in her
pet since Dasher's talk. She was brighter-eyed and happier now, more like her
normal self. Shell silently rejoiced for her Gelert's innate sensitivity.
Tsunami did feel better. She loved the songs
she had to sing, and really, it wasn't all that scary being on stage when she
had the whole choir behind her. She was careful, however, not to let go.
The nagging idea of being a real singer that
had plagued her so long was strangely subdued. It must have been Dasher's Blessing
that had finally silenced it.
After the full dress rehearsal, Tsunami felt
like nothing in the world could dampen her spirits. She had sung well, the Aquatic
Chorus had sounded fantastic together and the soloists, Flairea the Flotsam
who played Princess Tirra-li, Tralo the Kiko who played the Neopian Sailor and
of course, Seaheart the Peophin, who played Harquin herself, had outdone themselves.
The skies and the seas seemed extra blue that
day as she swam happily home amid her excited friends and that night as she
settled into her comfortable bed, she sang every song softly to herself, her
joy finding no other outlet. The concert would be this time tomorrow night.
Nothing could go wrong.
"Something's wrong," Streak whispered to Tsunami
as the five Peophins emerged from the waves into the auditorium and headed towards
the stage. It would be opening night in a few hours, and the friends were escorting
Tsunami there for one last rehearsal. But even just emerging from the water,
Tsunami could tell that Streak's fears were far from groundless. An odd tension
hung in the air that felt like a winter fog in Neopia Central. The unthinkable
had happened. Something wasn't quite right.
Rechaka came sliding towards them with a harassed
look on her blunt features.
"Something… terrible," she gasped. "Seaheart…
she's not well…"
Feeling panic rising in her, Tsunami made her
way up the side steps and backstage, her friends following.
Seaheart was lying on her side, wrapped in a
blanket, her coat dulled from its usual sunny shade of yellow. Her eyes and
nose were streaming and she sneezed violently every few seconds. She looked
terrible.
"A sudden case of NeoFlu." Ms. Silkfinn came
up behind them, shaking her wide yellow head. "Not serious, but…it really is
too bad. She can't possibly be in the play in that state."
"Do we have a stand-in?" Tralo looked worried.
"The musical can't go on without Harquin."
"We don't." Ms Silkfinn was obviously trying
to put up a brave front for the sake of her cast. "But the show must go on."
Tsunami never knew what exactly possessed her
at that very moment. Neither her friends nor Rechaka had said anything or done
anything to prompt her. Even the nagging voice in her head had remained hushed.
But over the commotion and the anxious whispers and Seaheart's violent sneezing,
she heard herself speak up, quietly, but clearly.
"I'll stand in for Seaheart. I know all of Harquin's
songs. I'll do it."
A Flotsam stared at her in disbelief. "You?"
"Yes." Tsunami's voice was surprisingly calm.
"I'll stand in for Seaheart," she repeated again, but discussing a different
topic this time. Tsunami suddenly felt uncomfortable and self-conscious as she
listened to the mutterings. Fervently she wished she had not spoken.
"Her, stand in for Seaheart?"
"But… so quiet…"
"Isn't she a member of the Chorus?"
"Can't imagine…doing a solo…"
"Surely she couldn't…voice not really special…"
Mirow trotted up behind her. "Don't listen to
them," he whispered. Kainitsa, Streak and Raiiek moved in to stand beside her.
The presence and support of them all gave her renewed courage. Ms Silkfinn slapped
her tail forcibly against the stage floor. The buzz of skeptical voices was
quelled instantly.
"Tsunami will sing as Harquin," she declared
firmly. "Now the rest of you, get your costumes and go over your parts once
more."
Silence greeted her words, and then all the
cast members nodded as one and filed back into the caves where the props and
scores were stored. Rechaka gave Tsunami a knowing wink in passing.
"It fits, you know." Tsunami turned to stare
at Mirow. "What?"
"I mean, you always did strike me as being perfect
for Harquin, you know. She's a lot like you; quiet, elusive, solitary by nature.
Unobtrusive. Someone who'd rather remain out of the spotlight."
"Don't be nervous," Streak said gently as she
and the others prepared to go home until the start of the concert.
"I'm not," Tsunami replied, and to her own astonishment,
discovered that she wasn't. The horrible gnawing of fear at her innards had
not come; the biting ache at the back of her teeth was absent. She felt no nausea,
no terror, even as she remembered that day at the auditions. On the contrary,
her heart was strangely calm as she watched her friends slide back over to the
hole in the floor that was the underwater passage back to the coastline. In
fact, as she thought of the concert to come that evening, she felt an odd anticipation
rise in her.
***
"I hope Su's not nervous," Dasher murmured.
"Ah, she'll be fine." Florepa leaned against
the rock chair. "What's the worst that could happen?"
"I guess you're right," Wen murmured, flipping
through the program in his red claws.
Streak, Kainitsa, Mirow and Raiiek had broken
the news of Tsunami's new role as Harquin to the family, and now they all sat
together as pets and owners gathered in the auditorium.
Shell nodded slowly. "Tsunami seemed confident,
did she?"
Streak affirmed the query with a nod. "She acted
like it was the most natural thing in Neopia."
"I hope she'll be okay," Mirow said softly as
the last members of the audience took their places, the room darkened and the
curtain began to rise.
Tsunami waited quietly in the wings. Harquin,
despite being the most major character, would not actually appear until later
in the musical when she would do her solo.
She could hear Tralo's resonant tones inform
the audience of his quest to claim the mysterious horned Peophin as his own
pet. Every now and then a tremor of adrenaline would run through her body, though
whether of fear or of excitement she couldn't tell. Absently she turned her
head to scratch an itch on her nose with her tail, careful not to smear the
blue paint on her fur or to knock askew the horns that had been attached to
her face shield.
Tralo's song was ending. Soon it would be her
turn. As the last notes of his song faded into the blackness of the darkening
stage and the enthusiastic applause of the audience, she closed her eyes for
a second to collect herself and taking a deep breath, glided into the middle
of the stage. She slid to and fro for a while, watching out of the corner of
her eye the lights slowly lightening to a deep blue and dimming behind her so
that only the blurred, dark outlines of her silhouette could be seen against
the blue backdrop, horned Peophin against the night sky and dark water, wild
and free, belonging to no one but herself. She closed her eyes. With that picture
in her mind she could almost feel that she was Harquin.
At last she felt the warmth of the spotlight
on her face and she opened her eyes. The expectancy of the audience greeted
her; she could feel it in a great wave. She knew they wanted her to sing. Somehow
she could feel their presence; they were all there. Shell. Dasher. Flo. Wen.
Her beloved family, they were there, somewhere in that dim blur of faces. And
Streak. Kaina. Raiiek. Mirow. Waiting for her to sing.
Though the fear started to rise once again in
her throat, threatening to overpower her vocal cords like the previous time,
the comfort of those closest to her being there for her in that vast dark expanse
like guiding stars in the night stopped it in its tracks, just like it did that
very afternoon. It wasn't like that other time when all she could see were the
faces of the judges, all their eyes upon her. She could pick out no faces at
all amongst the gloom of the seats. But her family and friends were out there,
though she couldn't see them. She couldn't disappoint them again. She would
sing for them, for them if no one else.
Her voice pierced the darkness like a beam of
crystal-diffused light. Harquin's song in all its splendour rose, glorified,
from her throat and carried to every part of that dark auditorium. She could
feel the audience for a moment, their hushed silence as they listened, and then
it was gone. The music, the song, took over her entire being once more, and
she immersed herself gladly in it, feeling herself sinking, losing touch with
the world.
The beautiful song reverberated and rippled
through her soul, leaving behind that feeling of wonderment that only singing
could give her. The audience was gone. The musical was gone. The cast and crew
were gone, each of them elements of another, far off time. There was only her
and the music.
Finally, ecstatically, she reached the end of
her solo. The other things returned in an instant, and she was soon back on
the stage, back in Neopia. But she barely heard the thunderous applause that
greeted her performance. It didn't matter to her.
Neither did the fact that she was presented
with a beautiful bouquet of Rowzes after the musical had ended. Or the silent
apologies offered to her by her critics among the cast, shuffling their flippers
awkwardly as they averted their eyes from her face, or the impressed glance
from Ms. Silkfinn, or the hearty congratulations of her family and friends.
For some reason, the calm had prevailed.
"Well, are you proud of yourself?" Kainitsa
asked gently.
It seemed ages to Tsunami since the musical
had come to a successful end and everyone had gone home. Her friends, including
Rechaka and some other cast members from the musical, had come to her Mystery
Island home with her, and they had celebrated her performance with a great array
of Wen's Faerie Cakes that Shell had been saving for such an occasion.
Eventually, she and her Peophin friends had
found themselves by the river again, in her favourite spot under the rain tree.
The others had gone home, and the rest of the family were clearing up the leftovers
and washing the dishes. Tsunami had wanted to help but Shell and the others
were adamant that she didn't.
After all, it was her special night.
Tsunami thought for a while. It felt like she
had lived a lifetime in that single night.
"I don't know," she replied finally. "I guess
I do think I sang well. But that doesn't matter." Seeing their politely puzzled
expressions, she went on.
"I love to sing. The show had to go on, and
it couldn't without Harquin. Those were reasons I sang tonight. But not the
main one. I sang because I knew that the ones that matter wanted to hear me,
not because of the applause or tokens of appreciation. I don't need to be famous
or popular. I'm loved. And I know my calling."
"And that would be…" Streak inquired.
"Singing. But not on stage with an audience
listening to me and clapping and showering me with flowers. The stage isn't
where I belong; I know it. I just want to sing where the pets and people that
mean a lot to me can hear me. And of course I'd sing just for me, in my own
special singing-spots where I can just enjoy the song, enjoy the music. Like
here. Under the rain tree."
Mirow smiled. "If it makes you happy, I don't
care at all."
The others nodded their assent.
They sat together for a long time beside the
gentle rush of the river flowing past them, under the spreading umbrella-like
branches of the rain tree. Tsunami grinned happily, content in the knowledge
that she knew what she wanted in life. Even if she never became a famous singer,
it was a career she was letting go most willingly. She no longer felt an obligation
to her talent, and the nagging voice never tormented her again. She belonged
to herself.
Just like Harquin.
The End
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