-Kye- Looking Up.

  Kye breathes deeply as she walks down the empty school hallway.  Her grip on the guitar case tightens until her knuckles are white.  The halls are eerily silent with so few people around; classes are over for the day.  As she heads toward her destination, she passes a poster stamped on the wall:

PREQUEL

FEMALE VOCALIST WANTED

AUDITIONS APRIL 12-14 5:30-7 PM

ROOM 138

  It's the same poster that's all over the school, and it's been the talk of town for a good two weeks now.  Kye is by no means the only one vying for this spot.  Even as she approaches the room, she can see dozens of girls lined up outside the door, hyperventilating and gossiping nervously.  Two, maybe, carry guitars.  The crowd of girls spots Kye coming, and their chatter subsides to a hushed whisper, one that almost seems pointed at her.  They huddle together and shoot glances at her as they gossip.  Kye ignores them.  They can hardly be blamed; after all, she doesn't fit the mold, with her dark makeup and tattered jeans.  Not to mention the fiery orange hair.  She's gotten used to it, or so she keeps telling herself.

  Kye would bet anything that these girls are all here for the same reason.  But it's a different reason than hers.

  Prequel.  That's what the boy band of this school chose to call themselves, and practically every girl in the school drools over them.  They've gotten pretty popular on YouTube, doing covers and such.  Get any group of girls from here together, and without fail, the talk veers towards the "cute" and "hot" members of the band.  Every girl has her true or made-up story of when Blake winked at her, or CJ held the door for her, or Warren was in her study group.  So of course when open auditions were announced, the entire female population exploded.

  In all honesty, Kye couldn't care less.  The gossip only makes her roll her eyes.  But, though she hates to admit it, these auditions are a unique chance for her.  A chance to save her mother from her own pride.

  She recalls echoes of the many conversations they've had about it.

  "Mom, let me help you.  Let me get a job.  It's hard enough for you to work two at once!"

  "And where are you going to find one?  You're only sixteen."

  "Well, if I can find a place that'll hire me.  Surely you'll let me apply?"

  "Kye, don't you think I can handle this myself?  Sweetheart, I should be the one providing for you, not vice versa."

  Kye shuts her eyes briefly, pained by the fierce servitude of her mom.  When she opens them, she's returned to the present, and the door is opening.  Out comes a blonde girl, tears and mascara streaming down her cheeks.

  "They said I was too pitchy," she sobs.

  Her friends console her, or at least, pretend to.  Of course they're actually thinking, one more contender out of the way.  Kye knows enough about "friends" to know that it's all a farce.

  As she waits in line, she plugs an earbud into her ear and turns up the music.  It's simple, really.  Just tune it all out.  Join in the pretending game- they'll pretend to like you, so just pretend you like them too.  

  One after another, they go into the room and come out brokenhearted, either crying or steaming with anger.  Kye begins to grow uneasy; it's hard not to doubt, after seeing so many rejections, but she has to trust her ability.

  And finally, it's her turn.

  She hikes up her guitar and strides in.  Four guys sit at a long table, facing her; she's seen their faces around and on the Internet.  Big deal.  They're just a few teenagers, and maybe she can be one of them.  That's all this is.

  Take a breath.  She knows, deep down, that it's way more than that.

  "Name?" says the boy with the spiked-up hair.  Blake, she thinks.  Yeah, that one's Blake.  The lead singer.

  "Kye Firewheel," she responds, with more confidence than she feels.

  Blake scribbles something on a clipboard.  "Okay, Kye, go ahead.  You got something prepared?"

  She clears her throat.  "Um, yeah. One second."

  She scans the room, grabs a chair, drags it over.  Sitting, she unpacks her guitar and checks the tuning.  Perfect.  She's ready to go.

  Take a breath.

  Breathe.

  And . . .

Somehow, everything's gonna fall

Right into place

If only we had a way to make it all

Fall faster every day

She shuts her eyes, tuning it all out, pretending it's just her.  Back in the treehouse.  And the only ones listening are the birds.

If only time flew like a dove

Will God make it fly faster than I'm falling in love?

This time we're not giving up

Let's make this last forever

Screaming, hallelujah

We'll make it last forever

Holding onto patience wearing thin
I can't force these eyes to see the end

If only time flew like a dove
Well we can make it fly, we'll just keep looking up. . . .

And Kye looks up.