Bonnie's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

Bonnie walked back to the old theater, her eyes stinging. Inside, she climbed onto the stage where dust floated through beams of light from the broken ceiling. She looked up at the empty balcony seats and imagined them filled with people clapping. Her chest loosened. This place had seen real performers once. They must have gotten mean notes too. They must have kept going. She pulled out the first note from her pocket and read it again. "You're really good." Someone believed in her. The theater's silence felt different than the plaza's—not empty, but waiting. She sang one line, just for herself, and the walls threw her voice back to her. Tomorrow she'd try again. The next morning, she wandered until she found an ancient weeping willow tree tucked between abandoned buildings. Its branches hung down like a curtain, creating a hidden room underneath. She ducked inside and sat against the trunk. The dark leaves whispered above her as she pulled out both notes. She read the kind one first, then the mean one. Her fingers crumpled the paper that said "STOP" and she dropped it on the ground. The other note she pressed flat against her knee. This person had heard her and liked it. That made them more important than whoever wanted her to quit. The willow's branches swayed around her, blocking out the empty streets. She thought about the theater and how it still stood after all these years. The performers who sang there didn't give up just because someone didn't like them. She stood and smoothed her dress. One fan was enough to prove her dream could work. She'd go back to the plaza tomorrow and sing even louder.