You walk on that stage tomorrow like you already won because in my eyes, baby girl, you already have. Thursday evening, the Riverside Community Center auditorium filled with families, the air thick with perfume and nervous energy. 30 contestants crowded the backstage area, some with vocal coaches doing last-minute warm-ups, others with parents adjusting costumes and makeup. Madison Mitchell, contestant number 12, Victoria's 13-year-old daughter, held court in the corner, surrounded by a professional styling team.
Her dress probably cost more than Tiana's mama made in 2 months. Tiana sat alone on a folding chair, wearing her $8 thrift store dress, breathing slowly like Carol had taught her. No coach, no entourage, just her and the marker words on her palm that were starting to smudge. The judges sat at a long table facing the stage.
Mr. Harrison, the local music teacher with kind eyes. Victoria Mitchell, whose smile looked painted on, and Christopher Hayes, the celebrity A&R executive, who hadn't stopped fidgeting since he sat down. Victoria stood to address the contestants backstage, her voice dripping with false sweetness. We have quite the range tonight. real talent and well, everyone gets participation, right?
Her eyes landed on Tiana. Some people just need to learn the difference between dreaming and reality. A few parents laughed. Contestant number 12 was called.
Madison took the stage in a swirl of expensive fabric and calculated confidence. She performed Somewhere Over the Rainbow with piano accompaniment, backup tracks, and choreographed hand movements that looked rehearsed in a mirror a thousand times. Technically perfect. Emotionally empty.
The audience applauded politely. Parents recorded dutifully. Victoria leaned toward the microphone. Stunning.
Simply stunning. That's what years of proper training looks like. She held up her scoring card. 9.5.
Mr. Harrison nodded. Very polished for her age. 8.0. Christopher Hayes stared at his blank scoring card for a long moment.
Good technical control, 8.0. Madison's average, 8.5. Solid, safe, forgettable. Contestants 13 through 31 passed in a blur of varying competence.
Some good, some mediocre. None exceptional. The clock ticked toward 7:00 p.m. Backstage.
Victoria paused by Tiana's chair. Still here? You know, stage fright is nothing to be ashamed of, honey. You're just a child.
You can forfeit. Get half your fee back. Save yourself the embarrassment. Tiana looked up.
I'm not embarrassed. Victoria's laugh was sharp. You will be. 7:02 p.m.
The coordinator's voice crackled over the backstage loudspeaker. Contestant 32, Tiana Turner, you're up. Carol Bennett, sitting in the third row in her nurse's scrubs, squeezed Diane's hand. Diane looked so frail in her seat, but her eyes were fierce.
Tiana stood. Her legs felt like water. The walk from backstage to center stage was maybe 30 feet. It felt like 30 miles.
The spotlight hit her face, too bright, making her blink. The microphone stand towered over her. Someone had to adjust it down to her height. 400 faces stared.
Victoria's voice cut through the silence. No accompanist. She made a show of checking her notes. How brave or unprepared?