Baby Saja's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Baby Saja wanted to win the North Pole's grand talent showcase. He was the youngest performer ever to sign up. The problem stood in front of him now: the icy stage rose taller than his whole apartment building. Its steps were carved from blocks of blue ice, each one higher than his head. He stood at the bottom in his pink argyle sweater and purple pants. His pink shoes squeaked on the frozen floor. Somewhere above, three judges waited behind a long table. Baby Saja climbed onto the stage anyway. He walked to the center and looked up. The judges did not look down. They talked to each other. They shuffled papers. One yawned. Baby Saja was so small that the polished silver microphone stood twice his height. He could not even reach it. He waved both arms. He jumped. Nothing. "Down here!" he called. His voice came out thin against the huge cold space. The judges kept talking. His calico cat had followed him up the steps. She sat beside his pink shoes, orange and black patches bright against the white ice. She flicked her tail. Then she looked from Baby Saja to the tall microphone and back. Baby Saja understood. He crouched low. "Can you carry me up?" he asked. The cat only blinked. So he tried something else. He grabbed the metal stand with both hands. He pulled himself up, shoe over shoe, gripping the cold pole. His fingers slipped. He caught himself. The cat pressed against his back and pushed. He climbed higher. His head reached the round mesh top of the microphone. Now he stood level with the judges' eyes. He held the stand tight and opened his mouth. He sang the only song he knew, the one his mother sang at their window above the city. His small voice went straight into the microphone. The sound filled the whole icy hall. The judges stopped talking. All three turned. One dropped her pen. They stared at the tiny boy with blue hair, clinging to a microphone taller than himself, singing like the stage belonged to him. The song ended. For a moment no one moved. Then the middle judge leaned forward and spoke into her own microphone. "We see you now," she said. "You're through to the final round." Baby Saja's arms shook, but he grinned. His cat wound around his ankles. He had made them look. He had made them listen. The judge raised one hand. "But the final is different," she said. "You perform on the great glacier stage. No microphone. No stand to climb. Just your voice, alone, across the ice." Baby Saja looked at the microphone he had fought so hard to reach. In the final, it would be gone. He let go of the cold metal and lowered himself back to the floor, already trying to think how a voice as small as his could carry that far.