Not as a surprise.
This time Mrs. Parker would know.
She agreed on one condition.
“Owen has to sing.”
Owen nearly fell out of his chair.
“I don’t sing alone.”
“You dragged twelve adults onto a stage.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I wasn’t singing.”
Mrs. Parker smiled.
“Thomas would say you haven’t found your song.”
Owen groaned.
The rehearsals changed something in him.
He had never been shy exactly, but he preferred controlling situations from the edges.
Organizing.
Planning.
Researching.
Standing in the center was different.
At his first rehearsal he sang so quietly Ms. Delgado stopped the piano.
“Owen.”
“What?”
“The back wall would like to hear you.”
He tried again.
Still too soft.
Mrs. Parker attended most rehearsals.
She never criticized him.
She sat in the third row with Thomas’s score on her lap.
One afternoon, Owen finally became frustrated.
“I can’t do it.”
Mrs. Parker looked up.
“Do what?”
