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Harriet, of course, thought the whole thing hilarious, and had laughed heartily. She, a prominent member of the sopranos, didn’t have to worry about her position and standing, and obviously didn’t care a hoot that I did.

“But I don’t sing out of tune!” I cried in feeble protest, knowing full well that the damage was done and the minds of fellow choir members made up.

Shanille looked hesitant. She doesn’t like disciplining people, but she has a choir to run, and choirs are like leashes: they’re only as strong as their weakest link—or is that chains? At any rate, evidently that weakest link was me.

“Okay,” she finally said, relenting. Possibly for the dear old friendship we shared. “Sing after me.” And she proceeded to intone one of the harder songs on our repertoire, a vocal run I’d never particularly liked or enjoyed singing.

“Ooh-aah-eeh-aah-ooh-aah-aah,” she sang. Beautifully, I might add.

So I repeated the exact same run, only in a lower register. I also closed my eyes, as I’d seen Mariah Carey do, and I adopted the way she likes to touch her ear when she sings. I like to think it makes me look like a professional. But when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Shanille’s frown.

I gave her my best smile.“How did I do? Blew you away, right?”

“With a wrecking ball,” commented Milo, one of my least favorite choir members.

Shanille swallowed nervously.“Maybe give it another shot, Max,” she said encouragingly. “And this time keep your eyes open and focus on me.”

I could see where she was coming from. After all, what good is a choir conductor if the choir members won’t even bother keeping her in their sights? Only problem is, I feel more in control and able to focus better on my singing when I’m not distracted by the others. But seeing as this was one of those do-or-die moments, I decided not to play hardball but acquiesce instead.

“Ooh-aah-eeh-aah-ooh-aah-aah,” I sang with feeling.

Judging from the way Shanille winced, it was not my best work.

And when the final note had died away, she spoke those fateful words:“Max, I think you should find a private tutor, and only come back when you’ve improved to a spectacular degree.”

“But, Shanille!”

To no avail. I could tell from the way she curled her upper lip she wasn’t budging.

“I’m sorry, Max. I have the other members to think about.”

I let my gaze glide pleadingly over the faces of these other members, most of whom I’d known for years, many who were my bestest, closest friends. Like Dooley, and Brutus, and Harriet. But all I got in return were blank looks. And then Dooley said, “I can tutor you, Max.”

“I don’t think so, Dooley,” said Shanille before I had a chance to respond. “But thanks for the offer.”

“I could tutor him,” said Brutus, a little gruffly.

“You’re a bass, Brutus,” Shanille pointed out. “You can’t tutor a tenor.”

“Why don’t I tutor him?” Harriet suggested. But then the meaning of Shanille’s words got through to her, and she added, “Oh, but I’m a soprano, so that’s probably a no-no, right?”

“I’m a tenor,” said Milo. “Though I doubt whether a private tutor will do him any good. Singing is one of those talents you either possess or don’t possess, and clearly Max doesn’t have what it takes to be a singer.”

“Milo,” said Brutus warningly, taking my side. It warmed my heart.

“I’m only saying this to help you, Max,” Milo said. “No offense, buddy, but you’re probably better off finding yourself a different hobby. Whittling, for instance. You could bring a lot of beauty into this world by whittling, Max.”

“I don’t whittle,” I said, trying to put a growl into my voice and failing miserably. I’m not a natural growler. And apparently not a singer either.

“Max,” said Shanille. “I’d teach you myself, but since I’m busy, busy, busy…”

I nodded morosely. I could see which way the wind was blowing, and it definitely wasn’t blowing in my direction.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll just… go, I guess.”

And so I started moving away. I sorta, kinda hoped multiple voices would ring out clamoring,“No, Max, don’t go! Cat choir just isn’t the same without you!”

But no voices rang out in the night at all. None whatsoever. Instead, the moment my back was turned, choir practice recommenced as if nothing had happened. Then, suddenly, as I walked off, head low and my spirits even lower, I became aware of a presence next to me. When I looked up, I saw that it was Dooley.

“I’d still like to be your tutor, Max,” he said. “I think I could help you.”

“Thanks, Dooley,” I said. “But you don’t have to do this.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “Cat choir isn’t much fun without you there.”

It touched my heart to such an extent I actually teared up.“Thanks, Dooley,” I said brokenly. “That means a lot to me, buddy.”

“I’ll help you, too,” said a second voice. It was Brutus. “I know I’m a bass and you’re a tenor, but I’ll do what I can to make you rise to my level. It won’t be easy, of course, as I’m such an excellent singer, but I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Gee, thanks, Brutus,” I said, strangely touched by his words.