Sing Me to Sleep
Blake’s eyes are all over Meadow now. “They are in China.”
Sarah frowns behind him.
Derek picks up the gloves I looked at. “I’ll make it happen.” His arm brushes mine. Not Meadow’s?
The guy must be magic because five minutes later when we meet for warm up, Terri’s bubbling over. “The Amabile Young Men’s Ensemble performs after us. Their conductor just invited us to sing the test piece with them.”
When our choirs sing together, the sound fills up the entire non-acoustical glass, chrome, and cement installation. There are eighty of us and fifty of them. I’m standing in the center in the front. I’m too tall for the risers. Derek is right behind me, singing in my ear. That means he’s only a couple inches shorter than me. He shows off and sings the soprano part. I’d like to hear his tenor. I bet that would melt the glaciers out the window. Shoot, he could melt the stone underneath. I’m grateful he’s goofing around. His tenor would be way more than I can handle.
Maybe I have heard it. There’s this one piece on their latest CD with an aching, tenor solo. That’s got to be Derek. Meadow manages to stand beside him. She sings better than usual. Guess all she needs is a little inspiration. What is she doing in an all-girls choir?
After the performance, the guys take us through the main sights, starting with the ice palace full of goofy sculptures. Meadow slips on the ice right into Derek. He catches her arm. “Take it easy, eh?”
She clutches onto him. “Thanks.”
He drops her arm, gets ahead of all of us. “Watch.” He runs across the ice floor and slides all the way down a narrow hall that leads to the exit, his authentic Canadianness oozing out. Maybe he plays that weird game with the stones. I can’t see him in hockey gear.
Then Blake has to do it. Sarah tries and almost falls, but Blake catches her. Meadow knows she’ll end up on her butt, so she just watches. I go for it and do end up on my butt.
Derek’s there, helping me to my feet, touching me again. “Are you okay? I should have warned you. It’s slippery.”
“Slippery ice? I’ll have to remember that.” I stare at him. Can’t help it. Is he really this nice? Really this different from any guy I’ve ever known? That’s impossible. Best behavior. Good impression. International harmony. That’s all this is. Underneath, he’s a guy. They all are—except Scott. Poor Scott. He seems so far away.
We take the elevator to the very top of the peak and go out on a wild, wind-whipped viewing platform. Even with all my layers, I’m frozen in seconds. Feels kind of good. Banks my interior fires pumping up all this heat.
“We better not get chilled,” Leah calls.
We all agree she’s right and duck quick back through the doors.
The guys lead us to the cafeteria-style restaurant where they ate lunch with their choir while we were hogging up the nice place.
Leah glances around with the corners of her mouth drooping. “What were you guys doing up at the other restaurant?”
Blake looks at me and then Derek. “Derek heard a rumor you girls would be here. He was looking for Beth.”
Derek elbows him hard. “Shut up, you jerk.”
Sarah turns to me. “Oooh, Beth. You’ve got a stalker.”
I’m embarrassed into a scarlet neck again, but Derek doesn’t flush at all. He coughs like he’s got something stuck in his throat and then laughs. “She figured that out the first time we chatted.”
I try to compose myself while he and Blake push two tables together.
Sarah points at the table next to ours. “Look at that.” Big cups of hot cocoa overflowing with whipped cream. Swiss cocoa. Banned. We can’t have chocolate, either. No cream. No cheese until after we perform. That’s torture in Switzerland.
The guys drool, too.
“You off dairy like us?” I take a chair.
Derek sits down beside me. “Yeah. We’ve got the gala opening tonight. Gotta keep the pipes clean.”
Blake rolls his eyes at Derek. “What a joke that is.” He slaps the menu down on the table. “To hell with clean pipes. I’m having some.”
Derek shakes his head and turns to me. “Are you going tonight?”
I start to explain, but Meadow plops down beside him and pats his arm. “We wouldn’t miss it.”
“Great.” He smiles at her but turns to me again. “I’ll look for you after.”
The three of us sneak out with Meadow. I feel a bit guilty, but the concert is a blast. Why did we come all this way if we’re going to hide in our hotel room? As soon as the Amabile guys hit the stage, every girl in the audience forgets about saving her voice and starts screaming. The guys steal the show. Meaning, Derek steals the show. He’s magnetic. Everyone in that giant auditorium tunes in to him and has a great time. I wish they could do more than three numbers.
“Okay, ladies.” Leah’s acting all official when she’s just as AWOL as the rest of us. “Let’s get back before somebody blows our cover.”
“Hey—” It’s him, Derek, pushing through the crowd toward us. “You made it.”
“Great show.” Meadow touches him again.
“Did you all like it?” He gracefully eludes her grasp, looks around, focuses on me. “What did you think?”
“That spiritual you guys sang was a blast.” I can look at him if I’m talking music. “Really different from ours.”
“It rocks. You can be tender. We’ll bring the house down.”
I nod. “Your solo vocals were totally pure.”
“I can do throaty, too, if you like that kind of stuff.”
“Throaty?” Meadow butts in. “Sign me up for that.”
“I haven’t heard that piece before.” I actually elbow out Meadow—this is official choir stuff. My business. “Where’d you find it?”
Blake comes up and catches the end of the conversation. He knuckles the top of Derek’s head. “Out of this guy’s twisted brain.”
“You wrote that?”
Derek looks at the floor. “Just arranged it. It’s an old spiritual.” A faint tinge of pink washes over his cheeks. “I like working with authentic tunes and lyrics.”
Blake swings his arms around Sarah and Leah’s necks and hangs on them. “Speaking of twisting brains, did you ladies hear that we can drink here? Just beer. Wine, too, if you’re a fancy pants.” He glances at Meadow. “Legal age is sixteen. Bars will serve us. How about heading uptown to see what we can scare up?” He focuses on Derek and me. “You coming?”
Derek gets a strained look on his face. “You know I can’t.”
“That’s right.” Blake winks at us. “This boy’s got a drug habit to feed.”
Drug habit? My eyes dart to Derek’s face.
He glares at Blake. “Shut up.”
“After all I’ve done for you, man. You could at least come hang with me. Make sure I get home safe.” He whispers something that makes Sarah laugh.
Sarah looks ready to head out with Blake. “We compete tomorrow.” I sound like a nagging mom, but this is serious.
Derek turns to me. “I’d rather make sure Beth and—sorry what was your name?”
“Meadow.”
“Yeah. And Sarah and Leah all get back to their hotel safe. Can I walk you girls home?”
“Traitor.” Blake drops his arms off Sarah and Leah and pushes them toward Derek. “That’s Derek. Always looking after the women.”
“Shut up! ”
“If I don’t make it back to the hotel, it’ll be your fault.”
Derek’s eyes roll. “I can live with that.”
Derek walks us to the metro. Meadow makes sure she walks beside him, but he keeps turning back to include the rest of us. He keeps coughing again, like he did up on the mountain. I don’t blame him. He worked hard tonight. He looks tired, too. Wan, not just pale. But still he rides down to Ouchy, the part of Lausanne next to the lake, with us and escorts us to the Mermaid.
“Thanks, Derek.” Meadow flounces up the steps.
Leah and Sarah say good night an
d follow. I’m with them, but Derek touches my arm like he wants to say something. I fall back.
“I’m glad we finally got to meet.”
“Me too. You guys are great.”
Derek shakes his head. “I’m glad I got to meet you.” He touches my arm again, lightly like a butterfly flutter, and walks away.
I stand there, entranced by his retreating figure, and whisper, “Me too.”
chapter 11
BROKEN
I catch up to the other girls waiting for the elevator in time to hear Meadow say, “I think Derek’s into me.”
She’s perfect like him. How can he not be?
The elevator door opens, and we squeeze inside the tiny box. Leah pushes the button for our floor. “He’s too charming to be real. He walked us home.”
“Escorted.” Sarah laughs. “There’s four of us—and we have Beth. As if we wouldn’t be safe.”
Once an Amazon always an Amazon.
Meadow leads us off the elevator. “Obviously, he wanted to hang out with me as long as he could.”
We make it down the hall and into our room without being spotted. Terri, Meadow’s mom, and the other choir mom chaperones all have rooms on another floor, close to the younger girls. We’ve got four single beds squeezed into a room that is barely a double. We have to keep our suitcases on our beds during the day or we wouldn’t be able to get through the bathroom door.
Sarah snags the bathroom first. I start to change. Meadow dumps her case on the floor, throws herself on her bed, rolls over, stretches. “Derek has the bluest eyes.”
“They’re brown.” I throw the long tee I sleep in on and slip my bra and jeans out from under it. We weren’t stupid enough to sneak out to the concert in our official Bliss wear.
Meadow sits up. “Whatever.” She sighs and falls back on her pillows. “They are perfect.”
I sit down on the edge of my bed. “Do you think he really does drugs?”
Meadow pitches her pillow at me. “I like him. Don’t diss him.”
I catch the pillow, pile it on top of mine, and stretch out. “I think he’s nice, too.” Massive understatement. “But Blake said he has a drug habit.”
Sarah comes out of the bathroom with her toothbrush in her mouth. “Blake was joking.”
Leah looks up from her suitcase at Sarah. “What, girl, do you see in him?”
Sarah turns back around and slams the bathroom door.
Meadow stares at the door. “Blake and Sarah?”
Leah shakes her head. “You’re blind.”
Meadow rolls on her side. “Blinded.”
Leah goes back to pawing through her suitcase. “Did anybody see where I put my pj’s?” She finds them and starts to change. “You know who Derek reminds me of?”
“Who?” Meadow sits up and looks around for her pillow. I chuck it back. Get her good in the face.
Leah pulls on her jams. “That guy in Phantom.” She’s way into Broadway.
I sit up. “Raoul? I don’t see it.” Okay, so am I.
“No. I bet under that charm he’s dangerous.” Leah hops onto her bed. “Drug habit. That gorgeous pale face. And he composes. He’s the Phantom.”
Meadow wriggles and sighs. “He can drag me to his lair anytime.”
“But I think Beth looks more like Christine than you do.”
“Beth? No.” Meadow rolls on her side and studies my face.
Leah folds up her suitcase. “She’s the one with the voice.”
I shoot Leah a warning look. “Derek’s face is way too angelic to be the Phantom.”
Meadow says, “I wonder how he gets it that pale.”
I sit up, cross-legged in the middle of my bed, and lean forward. “Maybe he goes back to his room and shoots up.” I really don’t want to believe that.
Meadow shrugs. “He probably just does a little weed.”
“That’s hardly a drug habit.” He didn’t deny it, though. Didn’t offer any explanations. Behind those melting eyes and the gentle pressure of his hand on my arm, could he be dangerous? “Maybe we shouldn’t try to hang out with them so much tomorrow.”
Meadow sits up. “No way. If he is into drugs that means he major likes me. A guy into abusing substances needs a lot of motivation to skip a chance to go to a bar. Motivation like me.”
She rolls her eyes at Leah—thinks I don’t see, but I do and I get it. I’m not in the club. I don’t know anything about typical guy behavior. A little weed. A couple of bars. I admit that scares me. I don’t want any part of it.
I stretch and glance from Meadow to Leah. “We compete tomorrow. We need to focus.” I need to focus and not think about Derek lying in bed listening to me sing—while he trips out on whatever he takes. “I don’t think we should take any risks.”
Sarah throws open the bathroom door. “They’re doing lunch with us tomorrow after we perform. I already set it up with Blake.”
“Way to go, Sarah.” Meadow jumps up, hugs her, and steals the bathroom.
Leah and I groan. She plops on my bed next to me. “Now we’ll never get in there.”
Sarah jumps on my bed, too. Her flawless skin glows.
I hate to be a downer, but I still say, “Blake seems a little wild.”
“No more than the usual guy.” She pulls a face at me. “I know you’ve never been to a party, but—really—it’s no big deal. They all drink.”
I drop my voice to a whisper. “What do you think about Derek and the drugs?”
Leah shakes her head, impatient with my persistence.
Sarah wrinkles up her nose. “I don’t know. He doesn’t fit the average stoner profile, but artsy creative geniuses do drugs, too. He is pale.”
I nod. Beautifully pale. White, white skin. Dark, dark hair. And then those brown eyes and a sensitive, fascinating mouth. It’s kind of on the tortured side of the spectrum. Maybe that’s where the drugs come in.
The whole gentleman, won’t-go-to-a-bar thing could have been a huge act to trick Meadow. Or me. Did I frown when Blake brought up the bar? Probably. Derek could be up in that bar with Blake, chugging down a cold one—no, this is Europe, a slightly chilled, kind of warm one—at this moment, laughing with Blake about how he fooled me. How his plan is evolving nicely. How I stood frozen on that hotel step, massively entranced, as he walked away. He looks perfect, sounds perfect, but what do any of us know about him? He could be hiding anything he wants behind that heart-stopping face. I know what guys who look like Derek do.
Leah leans in close. “I don’t know if Derek is a scary drug addict, but there’s one thing we all know.” She looks hard at me, a smile playing around her lips. “He’s definitely not into Meadow.”
I pull out of the cozy knot. “He was being nice. Professional.” My heart starts zooming. “Guys don’t get into me.”
Sarah puts her fingers to her lips and whispers, “They do now.”
“Get used to it.” Leah tickles my feet. “You’re hot, Beth.”
I push her away. “You’re delusional.”
Sarah tickles me from the other side. “You could get anybody you want.”
I squirm away from them. “What about Meadow?”
“Blake told me Derek only goes for girls who can sing.” Sarah pushes aside her thick bangs.
“She sang really well this morning.”
“Not like you sing that solo to him every night.”
I swallow hard, shake my head. “This isn’t me. I don’t know how to get Derek.” I put out my hands to ward them off. “I’m here to sing.”
Leah and Sarah trade glances. Sarah pats my foot. “That’s all you’ll have to do.”
I don’t sleep well. The biggest day of my life is about to dawn. No pressure.
Right. I toss and turn, get up—trip over Meadow’s bed on my way to the bathroom. I put the toilet lid down and perch on it, my legs pulled up under my chin, my arms clutched around them in an upright fetal meltdown.
I’m dying to sing. That’s how I unwind. I fake it, q
uietly mouth through all our pieces. When I get to the end, I go back and lie down, close my eyes. I see Derek alone in his hotel room with a razor blade and a line of white dust, or a needle in his hand and a rubber strap tied around his arm. That picture fades, replaced by the wave of emotion that went through me when he said—Sing, sing me to sleep.
You can sing,
Please, sing me to sleep—
Tonight.
If Derek knew the pre-dyed, pre-manicured, pre-made-up, pre-lasered Beth, the Beast, would he have been so happy to meet me? That’s what I was when I recorded. He could be just like Colby, only smoother. A star singer instead of a star jock. Colby could be nice when he wanted to be. He managed to get all the beautiful girls at school that he wanted. If his performance at the prom is any kind of clue, maybe his brand of nice is mostly arrogance. Derek didn’t seem like that. How do I know, though?
So he listened to me sing, walked us home, and touched my arm. Does that mean he isn’t just as nasty as every other guy in the universe? Except Scott. But Derek isn’t a short, nerdy sweetheart who’s been bullied all his life. He’s gorgeous, oozes talent, experience, confidence. He isn’t anything like Scott. Could Derek be for real as nice as he seems—despite the drug habit? I close my eyes and find something new in my heart. A small spark of something I don’t recognize.
Awake tonight,
I give up
And embrace the glow you lit
When your eyes captured mine
And I heard you whisper,
‘Sing, sing me to sleep.
You can sing,
Please, sing me to sleep—
Tonight.’
All of my life
I wait for
A touch like wings brushing my heart.
Is this blush on my face
All you have to give me?
Sing, sing me to sleep.
You can sing,
Please, sing me to sleep—