[Low C Sharp]

In the morning I go to check the Jane Lanes final callback list with my stomach in knots. The list of eight or nine women includes Courtney, Judith, and me!! Marc is coming back, too. We have to download and sing a much more challenging solo that's a little out of my range.

I check the Trents list, and they have Courtney and Judith back. I fixate on this fact; it's the only thing that makes me feel hopeful. I know that their hallmates must be making a fuss over the legend, the power, and the glory that is the Trents just like mine were...

I walk into the Jane Lanes' final callback that night and gasp; the group members are in long black dresses and black tuxedos, and they look like they were born to wear them. One 6'3" blond bass resembles Jeff Gordon, and when I see him in his tux, my knees go weak. He looks like the living personification of Bromwell University as imagined by Ralph Lauren. (This guy is in fact on full scholarship, from a tiny rural town, and the first member of his family to go to college, but I didn't know that.)

A lovely brunette alto comes up to greet me and takes me over to the gift table, where there's a goodie bag printed with my name and a "Jane Lanes Final Callbacks" logo. The bag contains candy and a Jane Lanes CD, which looks like the genuine article you'd buy at Borders. Now Lovely Brunette and Registration Girl are smiling and chatting with me, but I can't get any words out. I decide to joke about how they've picked all my favorite candies, and as I'm gesturing with a Pixie Stick, it snaps in half and sprays pink sugar all over the maroon carpet and Registration Girl's velvet skirt. They laugh about it, but I just want to hide behind the sofa.

I see Judith, but not Courtney, and I ask what happened to her. It develops that Courtney came by after the Trents callback to inform the Jane Lanes that she was dropping out of their process; she wants the Trents or nothing. I think that Courtney is insane, but I'm thrilled to hear it anyway. I sit down with Marc, but all I'm really doing, with every fiber of my being, is sending Judith telepathic messages to pref (choose) the Trents. I don't actually believe in telepathy, but I figure that it can't hurt, and I send her laser-beam messages every time I see her all night: "Judith, pref the Trents! Judith, pref the Trents!"

The final skills challenge is to learn background for a difficult, beautiful vocal jazz piece, and then sing your part in a quartet with three Jane Lanes on the other parts; the members will judge whether this is distinguishable from a quartet of all Jane Lanes. I love this part.

To my surprise, before we get to the solos, the Jane Lanes ask everyone to sit in a circle, and they break out champagne flutes and champagne (and sparkling cider). We sip champagne as they tell us we are celebrating the fact that everyone in the room could be a Jane Lane; after tonight, they will be cutting people based on the ideal size and balance of the group. All the Jane Lanes and auditionees get a chance to say their names, hometowns, favorite flavors of ice cream (again), and share something about ourselves; Jane Lane members use that time to explain why this group is so dear to them and why they love each other so much. At the end, they say that the hard part is over, so let's go "sing to each other" (aka the solos). This is really sweet and touching, and I'm almost in tears.

When I get up to sing my solo, I am silently focusing on whether I should try to belt the top notes of this song -- which could crack when I'm this nervous -- or take the safe route and sing them in falsetto. I haven't mentioned this dilemma to anyone, but as I'm passing Lovely Brunette on the way to the front of the room, she grabs my shoulder for a second and whispers "Belt it!" Wha...am I telepathic after all? I belt, and I don't crack.

It's finally over, and the Jane Lanes tell us that they will call each of us tonight as soon as they make a decision, one way or the other, but that deliberations sometimes take many hours. They line up by the door to thank us and say goodbye. One bass says to me, "Good job, Low C Sharp, all week!"

I don't remember walking back to my dorm. I know that I took my phone into bed with me and lay awake feeling stomach cramps, chills, and a pounding heart. I tell myself that I should be grateful that I got to be a Jane Lane for a week, but I'm not fooling myself; knowing how much I love them just makes it harder. Hours pass and I feel each minute ticking by, wide awake...
________