“Oh,” Anne-Marie said. “Well, yes, you have a point. OK you can bring Dakshima, but tell her she has to wear a dress and she’s not allowed to be rude to anyone.”
“OK then.” I said, grinning. “I will tell her exactly that. See you later.”
“Ciao, Baby!” Anne-Marie said, and was gone.
“So?” Dakshima asked me.
“So,” I replied. “Want to go to a party?”
Dakshima, Adele and I stood outside the music room a good ten minutes before rehearsals were due to start. Mr Petrelli had given everyone a chance to get some food from the canteen, but we didn’t go. Now was Adele’s chance to sing for Mr Petrelli again. I’d told Dakshima all about how Adele wanted another chance to be in the choir and after laughing in my face because she simply didn’t believe me, Dakshima decided she wanted to come along and see if it was really true.
“You didn’t say she was coming,” Adele growled at me as Dakshima and I approached.
“She’s come to support you too,” I said, peering in through the glass door, where Mr Petrelli was scowling at some sheet music. “Now, remember what I told you?”
We had secretly being doing breathing exercises at her house after school for three nights in a row. It was funny, Adele’s family weren’t at all like I expected them to be (frightening) and when she was at home she was almost a completely different person. She laughed and didn’t look so angry all the time. I couldn’t get her to sing for me even though her granny said she had a voice like an angel. Every time I asked her to sing, Adele would blush and tell me she was saving herself for today. It did make me slightly worried that it meant she was like those people on The X Factor after all – the ones whose mums or grannies said they could sing, but then it turned out they’d been lying and a dead cat could carry a tune better. I didn’t say anything about my fears though. I liked smiling Adele; she was much more preferable to scary Adele.
“I remember the exercises,” Adele said, putting her hands flat on her tummy and breathing in and out deeply.
“Go on then,” I said, glancing at my watch. “The others will be here really soon. It’s now or never.”
Adele stared at the door handle that led into the music room as if it might be red hot. “Never,” she said flatly, turning on her heel.
“Told you,” Dakshima said, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Like she can sing.”
“She can!” I said. “Probably.” I reached out and grabbed Adele’s arm quite firmly. Dakshima’s jaw dropped.
“Adele,” I said, keeping my voice steady and calm. “Just go in and give it a go. You know how much you want to be in the choir, but you’ll never be in it if you don’t try.” I glanced at Dakshima. “We’ll come in with you if you like.”
Adele scowled at Dakshima. “You can,” she said, nodding at me. “Not her.”
“Fine by me,” Dakshima said, raising a brow.
“Let’s go then,” I said, still holding her arm. “Now – before you change your mind again.”
Mr Petrelli glanced up at us as we entered. “You’re early, Ruby,” he said, looking back down at the sheet music. “While I commend your eagerness, I’d prefer it if you waited outside until I call you in.” He squinted at Adele over the top of his glasses. “And why are you here, Adele?”
“Whatever,” Adel mumbled. “I’m going.”
“The thing is,” I said, putting my hand on Adele’s shoulder, “Adele would really, really like to be in the choir. She didn’t do very well in the hall because she was nervous, but she sings in a gospel choir every Sunday so she can’t be that bad. We wondered, would you give her another chance, Mr Petrelli, please? Just let her sing a little bit, before the others get here. After all, we need all the singers we can get, right?”
Mr Petrelli looked at me. “This won’t get you off the hook, Ruby,” he told me. “Even if she turns out to be the next Charlotte Church, you still have to be in the choir.”
“I know,” I said. “I’ve come to terms with it, but please give Adele a chance. We’ve practised breathing and everything.” I thought Mr Petrelli almost smiled, but before his twitching mouth could turn upwards, he turned all stern again.
“Well then,” he stood up straight, as if bracing himself. “Go ahead, Adele. Let’s hear it.”
I let go of Adele’s arm and stood back, glancing at Dakshima’s face peering in through the window of the door. “Remember to breathe,” I whispered.
Adele opened her mouth and began to sing Amazing Grace, and I watched as Mr Petrelli’s expression changed from stern to pure delight. Adele really could sing, and about a million times better than anyone ever on X Factor.
“Adele Adebayor,” Mr Petrelli said, smiling for the first time since I’d known him. “You have been hiding you light under a bushel.”
“A what under a what?” I asked happily.
“It’s from the bible,” Adele told me. “It means I’ve been keeping my singing a secret.”
“You totally have,” I told her. “You totally have been really hiding it under a bushel thingy.” I looked at Mr Petrelli. “Well?” I asked him. “Is Adele in?”
Mr Petrelli smiled at me. “Adele is in,” he said. “And you know what else?” Adele and I shook our heads. “When I discover a voice like Adele’s right under my nose, it makes me realise something rather amazing.”
“What, sir?” Dakshima asked, pushing open the door.
“It turns out, Dakshima, that miracles do happen after all.”
“Spotlight!“
Words and Music by Mick Caruso
First all there is darkness, a silent empty space.
And suddenly you feel it touching your face!
It feels so very good, as warm as the sun,
And when you’re in it you know you’ve become
A star.
Spotlight, spotlight
Come and find me.
Spotlight, spotlight
You can’t blind me.
If anyone was ever meant to be
bathed in your golden light – it’s me!
If anyone was ever meant to be.
This is where my dreams are, captured in the light.
This is where they come true, right here tonight.
In the golden spotlight I am at home.
No need to run the race any more, because
I’ve already won it.
Spotlight, spotlight
Come and find me.
Spotlight, spotlight
You can’t blind me.
If anyone was ever meant to be
bathed in your golden light – it’s me!
If anyone was ever meant to be.
Listen to that applause, it is all for me.
I’m standing in