Sketch

2 - Emmy

Hey! This part is dedicated to FireworkMonkey for being my second ever fan :) Thank you!

Picture of Emmy on the side!

"One more time, from the top!"

I almost crease up laughing at the sight of the two girls on stage, struggling to stay in tune with each other.

"Are they supposed to be singing the same song?" I whisper, leaning into Tabatha's shoulder.

She swats me away with a serious expression on her face. "Emmy! Please. That'll be us in a few minutes."

I roll my eyes. "I can hardly wait." One look at my little sister's face and I wish I could eat my words. "Okay. Fine. I'm so excited I think I'm going to wet myself."

One of the girls next to me in line hears and grimaces. I pull on a smirk and start jigging around.

"Stop it!" Tabatha pleads. "You're not taking this seriously."

I stop moving and place a hand on her arm. "Sorry, Tabs. It's just that this isn't really my thing."

She smiles shyly before looking to the floor. I follow her gaze, my eyes taking in my green Converse before moving to her pink ballet pumps. We look completely different, dressed in contrasting styles. Tabatha looks older than fifteen in her white tights and coral shift dress. Me? Black jeans and a MCR t-shirt. I couldn't stand out more if I tried. The community centre is practically full of girls dressed identically to Tabatha, all in various shades of pink.

"Thanks for coming."

I look back at Tabatha to see her twirling a stand of dark brown hair in her fingers.

"What are sisters for?" I say.

She smiles again. "Really though. I know this is probably doing your head in, but I really want this. Way more than all of these other girls."

I look around the hall again, at all of the pretty in pink girls, to see that she's probably wrong. Some of these girls look like they've been preparing for this their entire lives. I can hear someone doing scales towards the back of the room and every other girl has her headphones in, mouthing the words to whatever song they're listening to.

"As much as you wanted to be a world class jockey?"

Tabatha bites her lip and I see the eagerness in her eyes. "More."

I get the urge to laugh right when the music flooding the community centre stops and a pathetic round of applause congratulates the two beaming girls for singing out of tune. I'm not laughing at the girls, although their rendition of one of my favourite pop songs to hate was extremely awful. I'm laughing at Tabatha. If she stuck with a career choice for more than a week, I think I'd pass out.

"Emily Porter."

The laughter on the tip of my tongue disappears with my sigh.

"Do I really have to do this?" I ask Tabatha, a whiny edge to my voice.

In answer she shoves me forward towards the stage. Great.

I survey the crowd of pretty in pink girls and feel even more out of place than before. I scuff a foot along the ground and cringe when a squeak echoes through the hall as the sole of my shoe collides with the well-polished stage floor. I mouth a sorry, even though the bald guy shuffling papers isn't looking my way. He looks professional in his pinstriped suit and the three people sitting at the table behind him, who are all dressed as business like, suddenly make me nervous. His eyes narrow when he takes in my appearance, and I wish I could wrap myself up in the curtain to the side of the stage without anyone noticing. I'm not embarrassed. It's just that the thought of singing to a room full of teenagers is stupid. Why do I let Tabatha talk me into these things?