Eternally North by Tillie Cole Read Free Book Online Page A

Jones came
through hesitantly.
    “Boleyn? Are you
okay? Do you need to see me?” I questioned.
    “Erm, kind of,” she
replied, biting her bottom lip.
    “Well, what is it,
honey?” I implored.
    “I… I would like to
sing for you,” she stated in a hushed tone.
    I stared at her,
gobsmacked, “You want to sing? You want to audition? I didn’t
know you could? You never have in class before,” I said with a
shocked voice.
    “I… I can a bit…
I think. I just get scared I'm not good enough. Can I just let you
hear, and if I’m bad you can just pretend I never did it?” She
shuffled her feet nervously.
    “Boleyn, I’m so
proud that you would even audition, it takes guts. By simply doing
this, it shows how far you've come in such a short time," I
praised.
    “Come on, Boleyn.
Let’s see what you’ve got,” barked Mandy.
    Boleyn put her iPhone
into the speaker and stood centre stage, looking small and timid
behind the microphone.
    I recognised the song
immediately; it was Adele’s ‘Someone Like You’. Mandy and I
looked at each other and cringed. It was a tough song, even for the
best and most seasoned of singers.
    Boleyn moved to the mic
and looked up, staring straight ahead – confidence transforming her
face.
    Wow.
    Her voice was velvet.
She began to sing, and from her little mouth came the voice of an
angel. It was breath-taking. Move over Charlotte Church!
    Mandy dropped her
pencil and grabbed my arm, her mouth hitting the floor. All I could
do was stare – stare and listen. Stare as the shy, introverted girl
was gone, transformed into the embodiment of confidence, owning the
stage and captivating us, the audience. She was outstanding. I had
never heard anything so beautiful.
    Beside me, I heard
sniffling, and saw the janitor had stopped her cleaning of the studio
to watch with tears streaming down her cheeks, mesmerised by the
timid little Boleyn girl lighting up the room.
    I had found my Fantine,
and Boleyn had found her passion, and by the looks of it, the key to
her salvation. She looked so… happy.
    The song ended and
silence descended on the room. Boleyn, once again head-down and
trembling, asked softly, “Ms. Munro, was that okay?”
    I walked up to the
stage, noticing that the whole time she was watching her shuffling
feet. “Boleyn Jones. Where have you been hiding that? You were
perfect. Look at me.”
    She glanced up shyly.
    “You were perfect ,”
I repeated in all sincerity. She smiled and whispered her thanks.
    In my best X-Factor
voice, I took her hand and shouted, “Boleyn, with two yeses, you
are going through to boot camp! You are my top choice for Fantine!”
    Three days later, I
posted the cast list, and Boleyn suddenly found she had a new family
of friends. Casts are always close, and The Calgary School of
Excellence performance crew immediately took her under their
protective wing. It was rewarding to see.
    Later that afternoon
after school, a knock on my classroom door interrupted me from the
marking of a million essays on the Black Death that I had to get done
by the next day.
    As I opened the door, I
was greeted by a fifty-something-year-old woman with dark brown hair
and a kind smile.
    “Ms. Munro?” she
enquired.
    “Yes, please come in.
Can I help you?”
    “Yes, I’m Mrs
Nor–,… erm I mean Mrs. Jones.” she announced, a little
flustered.
    “Oh, you must be
Boleyn’s mother?” I asked, shaking her hand.
    “Yes. I really just
wanted to come and see you and meet the woman who is changing my
daughter’s life,” she said, smiling.
    “Excuse me, I don’t
understand. You mean me?” I questioned, shocked.
    “Ms. Munro, since you
came to this school and started working with her she is a completely
different person. She smiles. She’s happy, she sings all day, and I
didn’t even know she could sing.
    “Boleyn doesn’t
have an easy time at home, and has to live an unusual and, let’s
say, unique life. She moved against her wishes to Calgary two
years ago,