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Rated: E · Non-fiction · Arts · #1364736
This is a memoir about winning grand champion at East Noble show choir competition.
The auditorium was packed chock full of people. The Norwell show choirs, both the mixed and girls groups, were crammed into a section on the right side, taking up several rows. I sat on the end in agony as we all waited for what seemed like hours for the results of the finals. How had we even made it this far, I pondered. We were only 24 strong, paling in comparison to the 40 plus people in the large mixed division groups. And yet here we were. We won small mixed division and got into finals. Now we impatiently awaited our fate, squirming in our seats.

My friend Melissa sat beside me. As the awards ceremony neared, I linked arms with her, who was already linking arms with Brittany, forming a chain. I gripped her hand tightly, hoping it wasn’t hurting her. Sweat beads began to form all over my body. I couldn’t take it anymore! All the practices, hundreds of hours worth. All the hard work we had put into this show. It all came down to this moment. The moment when we would find out whether we had beat Carroll or not. When we would find out if our goal had been achieved. I barely even recognized that I was shaking.

"Fourth runner up..." the emcee finally announced after ages of torturous waiting, "goes to..."

I felt Melissa’s sweaty palm squeeze mine. It felt like something was fluttering around in my stomach, which was no longer calm like it had been a few seconds ago. A horrible, sickening feeling rushed through my body. What if it was us? What if we only got fifth? No. I brushed the feeling away. That was impossible. Or was it? As I began doubting in those precious few seconds I’m almost positive I stopped breathing.

"...Onalaska!"

A small cheer erupted from the group, seated on the far left, and at the same time sighs spewed from the mouths of every other choir. I started breathing again, utterly relieved. At least we didn’t get last, I thought to myself.

"Now for third runner up..."

Oh crap! Same feeling...

But it wasn’t us. Time and time again my breath stopped short and my pulse quickened, but it wasn’t us. The tension was becoming insurmountable. We were all huddled close together in the small East Noble auditorium, uttering hopeful prayers under our breath. It was down to the top two. And it was between us and Carroll. The moment I had been dreading forever was drawing to a close. This was it...

"Now let’s take a short break for the Best Choreography Award!"

I gave a little groan. The suspense was killing me! Whoever won the best choreo award usually won the whole competition, as we had learned at previous competitions.

"The East Noble Competition’s Best Choreography Award goes to..."

Ow! Melissa’s fingernails were digging into my wrist. I clutched at her arm. I felt faint, almost dizzy. My eyes became blurry.

"Heh heh..." He gave a short chuckle. "It seems that Norwell and Carroll have tied!"

What?! I felt like I had thrown myself off the Empire State Building. I frantically glanced around at the other members of the choir. Their faces mirrored mine: shock and disbelief. How had this happened? It was impossible! So far it seemed as if we were both equal. Not fair!

I barely even heard the hushed murmurings of the other choirs, speculating on this revolting development. Sitting on the edge of my seat, I sat, my eyes transfixed on the stage where the emcee stood, letting it all sink in. Inside my head, I screamed. This was not happening to me!

I was thoroughly relieved when he continued. "Now onto the runner up and grand champion... I ask that when the runner up is read, the group that wins remains silent and respectful until they are officially announced."

I shook my head crazily, saliva oozing from my mouth. Yeah yeah yeah, get on with it already! My body was pressed up against Melissa’s and I could hear her short, ragged breathing. Good. So it wasn’t just me.

"Runner up goes to..." the emcee’s voice boomed over the intercom as a surge of energy and anticipation washed over the entire auditorium, "The Carroll High School Minstrel Magic!"

It barely even registered. Wait. What? I thought, my mind boggling with a hundred different thoughts at the same time. We won? Suddenly it clicked. The emcee barely had time to announce our victory before we were on our feet.

"And the grand champion goes to the NORWELL HIGH SCHOOL KNIGHT MOVES!"

Screaming, all around me. Mass hysteria. We were all jumping around and hugging one another. We had done it! We had beat Carroll and accomplished are goal! The hard work HAD paid off! I grabbed Melissa and embraced her, jumping in unison with her. I myself couldn’t utter a single word, but the others more than made up for it.

My eardrums were ready to burst as I looked around at the others. One of the senior girls was bawling, salty tears flowing freely down her face, smearing her mascara. I can’t even begin to explain how I felt at that moment. All I can say is that it is the greatest feeling I think I’ve ever had.

"We did it!!!!" I heard someone shout as I was lifted off the ground as Matt gave me a huge hug from behind. I would’ve hugged him back, had I not been facing the other way and trapped in his giant arms. He finally set me down and before I knew it we were running up onto the stage, ripping the medals from the hands of their distributors. I was pushed into a crowd of jumping, screaming, hooligans (or so it seemed). We held the trophy above us triumphantly, celebrating our sweet victory.
Cameras were flashing, but we barely noticed. We were living in the moment, and what a great moment it was. It remains to be one of my main highlights of my freshmen year of show choir.

Staring at one of the many pictures taken that night, a sense of accomplishment springs up inside of me. We were such a small choir, but we overcame our size disadvantage and swooped in for the kill. I had dedicated a year of my life to that show (among others) and what I got out of it was more than worth it. Which is why I am going to do it over and over again till I can do it no more. For moments like that. The defining moment...
© Copyright 2007 Julian Sark (sarkasm47 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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