The moment I walked from the stairs into the “High Court” where the Houston Children’s Chorus was having a lock in, I noticed there were people everywhere, from teachers to kids. I left my huge purple “sleeping bag” bag in the corner where everyone else’s bags were.

“Move, ‘child’.”

Huh? I turned around and saw a girl maybe one or two years older than me. She was standing there, waiting for me to move so she could put her stuff down.

I shuffled away.

In fifteen minutes, the choir teachers called us all together in rows. “Green shirted” kids (people who were in the choir last year) were to sit in between each of the “regular shirted” kids (people like me).

“Scoot over, ‘child’. I’m next to you.”

It was particularly annoying how she used the word “child” like she was 40 years old. I probably could have said that to her, but I didn’t have the nerve.

Oh, great. I moved as the “green shirted” girl planted herself next to me.

We began to sing a song called Alleluia.

Alleluia, leyiluia, alleluia leyiluia.

We began to sing as the director moved his hands. His name was Mr. Stephen. “Now, Concert choir, you know what to do!” He said. Well, I didn’t, so I must not be in the Concert choir then.

As we sang, I looked at the music. There was a part where the “alto” and the “soprano” parts were different. The altos would sing the lower notes while the sopranos (me… okay, ‘us’) higher.

Then I heard it. The sound of different parts. The music of altos, sopranos, and… CONCERT?

The Concert chorus was now climbing the scales and octaves. Because I was stuck in between two green-shirts, I noticed they both had “Concert Choir” printed on their shirts.

I was planted in between two people who were singing stuff I wasn’t supposed to sing.

Then, just as quick, they shot back down and collapsed into the melody I was singing, making no indication they had ever left the original melody or made me mess up.

Oh, well.

We kept on singing until it was… I looked at my watch. 1:03 AM. Hmm. My watch must have been broken or… Oh, dear. When we weren’t going to sleep?

“When are we going to go to sleep?” I asked the green-shirt next to me.

“You don’t.”

HUH? “What you mean?” I asked.

“It’s a LOCKIN, duh!”

“Oh, yeah. I just remembered.” I mumbled, not understanding half of what she meant. Whatever. Just act like you know everything, I told myself. Relax.

After a while when Mr. Stephen told us to sing another song, but when he heard a groan, he said instead we would have some ice cream sundaes.

Well, we all went and grabbed some, totally ignoring the fact it was two in the morning. When we finished, we sang some more songs, and toilet wrapped a friend (and I made sure to use LOTS of paper, something like three rolls… just kidding).

Then, at last, music came to my ears. “Go grab your sleeping bag and you can get ready to go to sleep.”

I crash-landed next to my sleeping bag, ignoring the stares I received from others who thought hugging a sleeping bag was a bit crazy.

I heaved it up and picked out a room with lots of boys in it.

EERRP! Big mistake. An alarm should have gone off in my head, but didn’t. By the time I finally got everything out, I was ready to hit the pillow.

When it was “lights out”, everyone was quiet. Just as I was going to go to sleep, I heard some voices.

“Is the teacher gone yet?”

Oh, brother.

Everyone was talking now, and about random subjects too, like ring-tones and schoolwork. Some people were playing little portable game things while others were on the phone.

I was wide awake now. It was obvious now that in the little time I had from 4:00 AM to 7:00 AM (wake-up), I wasn’t going to go to sleep anytime soon.

So I picked up my sleeping bag, and stepped into the hallway.

“What are you doing here?” Mr. Stephen asked me. He was clutching a pillow himself, and strangely I didn’t think that even remotely funny.

“I can’t sleep,” I told him. “It’s way too loud in there.”

He motioned for me to another room. It was also filled with boys, but I put out my stuff anyway. Just like I suspected, the whole room quickly electrified with whispers.

Until Mr. Stephen’s voice went off behind me. “You all be quiet!” He bellowed. We were all silent, wondering where he came from. I looked up and saw him sleeping on a bed next to me.

So this time, it was quiet. I hit the pillow.

The next morning, I woke up to the aching sounds of a kid.

“What are you aching about?” I asked him.

He pointed at a bunch of chairs, where his sleeping bag was. They were the kind that had little trenches in it so you could sit comfortably. Nobody said anything about sleeping, though. On the edges between chairs, sleeping on it was just about as comfortable as sleeping on top of the handlebars on an airplane.

I looked up and saw Mr. Stephen staring at the ceiling. Finally, he said without moving, “Start packing.”

It was easy for me to do: I had a humongous purple bag which now nobody was laughing at anymore. It could easily fit three sleeping bags, let alone just one plus a blanket and some clothes and sheet music.

The rest of the people in the room looked like they were trying to stick a straw into a needle, rather than the other way around.

I tried helping them, but no success. Finally, I decided to go get some breakfast. As I left, I told them, “Next time, get a bigger bag.”

After breakfast, I checked on them and finally helped them get it in. Together, we all walked down the stairs from “High Court” and I waited for my dad.

When he finally got here, I began telling him what happened.

“The moment I walked into ‘High Court’…”