Lycan My Crush

Chapter 4: Perform

“Alright, class. Today, we are going over the elements of performance. What do you need when you are performing?" asks my professor. He stands at the front of the room, bow tie and vest making him look like someone straight out of the 1920s in America. In all reality, he is an excellent base player in the orchestra here at the university.

I hear some of the other students' comments and answers to his questions, but I'm too busy scrolling on the margins of my notebook where I keep all of my experimental lyrics.

Dozens of lines are crossed out and, on one side, I scrolled Felix's name in every handwriting style I know. Cursive. Bionic. All capital letters. All lower case letters. Crazy to think I saw him only four days ago.

Another lyric set comes to me, and I scribble it as I hear my professor ask the class another question.

~Placed on a pedestal because I am forgettable. How much of me do you really see? Real eyes realize real lies. It's time I told the truth; I've fallen for you. The others don't see what you mean to me. ~

“So, with all of that being said, it's time for your first practical."

My professor's words eke through my swirling thoughts and bring me from my creative place in my mind back to the classroom. The class collectively shifts while some of the obvious upperclassmen moan. They know what this means, as do I.

A real performance.

According to our syllabus, we are supposed to go out five or six times throughout the semester and perform spontaneously in different parts of campus. It is supposed to help us get over our nerves and potential stage fright.

This part makes me smile a little. My mother managed to get that out of me years ago. I glance to my left and see some of my classmates looking nervous. We are dismissed and I waste no time in grabbing my bass guitar from my music locker as well as the portable amplifier.

I already have the perfect spot in mind for a performance to get over stage fright. I don't bother putting my headphones in. It will only distract me from the task at hand, which is picking a song to perform.

I could choose one of my favorites. It is just for a class after all. I probably wouldn't be pegged for copyright since it is a public performance and since I would just be covering the song. On the other hand, I could choose one of my own, but I almost think that is too self-serving. It would also cause a stir on-campus.

I decide to play one of my own. It has a special meaning after all.

There. I see the spot I want to perform at just ahead. It's a beautiful place under a white oak tree. The spot is by the sidewalk just a little off to the side which is close enough to the main drag by the library and the outdoor study sessions to be noticed but not cause a ruckus.

I start my setup, tuning my bass before plugging it into the amplifier. I listen hard to the notes, making sure it's in perfect tune before turning up the volume.

I can practically hear my mother's voice in the back of my head saying I need to make some kind of shoutout or post about performing out in public. At the very least, I need to include this in my vlog.

The camera comes out of my bag, and I press the little red button to start recording.

“First class of the day just ended, and we have been sent out into the wild to perform. Let's see how this goes, yeah?" I make sure I extend my arm as far as I can to show off my amplifier and my iconic base, a sleek little midnight blue number that is a bit beat up and nothing too special, but it was still my first and, therefore, sentimental.

I set the camera up on the stand that is affixed to the head of the base. I exhale, preparing my mind for the performance. For some reason, my fingers always get cold right before and during a performance. I feel that now right as I scrape my dulled pick along the ridges of the thick, metallic strings beneath my fingers.

I start with a simple riff. Just a couple of simple rhythms to get myself in the mental zone of music. Even through the thick callouses on my fingers, I can naturally feel where my fingers need to press into the fret. I mix picking with slapping the strings, letting my fingers find a couple of patterns I was working on the other night.

It takes less than a minute for people to start noticing me. I see those black lenses come out like a thousand eyes staring at me with each camera. They're smiling. Every person who starts to walk toward me while listening to me jamming away starts whispering and cheering.

There it is again. Another lyric.

~Lidless eyes smile and pry. Denying me fear and the right to cry. ~

Other students start pushing forward so they can take a selfie in front of me. I smile as much as I can before my cheeks start to hurt. I keep smiling though. It does make me happy to see so many people coming out to support me. Still, do they remember that I'm human too?

Instinctually, I start singing one of my songs, fingers falling into a natural rhythm.

“Starting from the beginning. Out there you think I'm winning. Sing it with me!" I say, getting the crowd to participate and say, “Ha ha, fools."

I lean into the base and toss my hair back and forth. Now the crowd starts jumping, preparing to sing along with me. I make sure to aim the camera toward the crowd as I look into the lidless, unblinking black lens of an eye and wink.

I keep singing. “Wouldn't you like to know, the mental places I go? I used to see my face at the only place where I could be more than me."

The crowd sings with me, jumping with glee and headbanging with the rhythm of my fingers against the metallic strings. The energy around me surges as everyone sings the chorus with me.

“I wanna be you. I wanna be me. I wanna be the cute guy across the street. I wanna be blue. I wanna be green. I wanna be the sweet girl next to me. I wanna shout from the rooftops and through every gosh darn door – I wanna be yours."

I start dancing with my base as I see the crowd has now doubled in size. I lean into the base, letting the vibration of the amplifier reverberate in my chest. In that fraction of a moment, I open my eyes and almost fumble the notes as I make direct eye contact with none other than Felix MacKay who is standing in the crowd.

I'm instantly absorbed in his pale blue eyes that remind me of shards of ice. Do I look away? I can't stop playing. But what if I did stop playing my base and didn't finish the song? What would happen?

I sing the second verse without even knowing it before going into the bridge, which is a bit of a call and response.

“I let you see the happy part of me – front door, back door, what's it all for? Would it be terrible to show that I'm breakable – to let it all go?"

I go into the chorus again, stopping from my base playing. Someone in the crowd starts clapping as I sing the chorus acappella. Was that Felix who started clapping? I look back through the crowd and see him there, eyes locked on me.

Oh gosh. Does he recognize me? Will I get a chance to thank him for coming? What was that line I was going to use? Hello, my name is… Wait. What is my name? Something about goggles?

I finish my song and lock eyes with Felix once again, but my gaze is quickly broken by other students crowding around me. No. Wait. Come back!

I feel a heavy pang in my chest as I want nothing more than to run to Felix and use that line I have been practicing for way too long. My heart physically hurts not because of the jitters or nervousness built up from the performance. I was able to get rid of most of those feelings years ago. The pounding in my chest is a hollow reminder that, once again, I missed my chance.

I curse myself because it feels like my chance to talk to him is slipping further and further away. He is right here on campus, and I don't have the guts to go and talk to him.

Something needs to change. I need to change. I'm not going to be a bystander anymore. I need to treat this like a performance. I've talked to thousands of people. What's one more?