Much to my chagrin, Carl doesn’t take center stage, apparently more content to remain in the background and hum the melodies. Unfortunately, both Jackson and I are completely tone-deaf and only know half of the words. I try to make up for it by bringing in my old dance skills and prancing about the makeshift stage—we’re standing on a rug, literally—while all eyes are glued on us. Jackson, for all of his skills on the ice, might as well be a tree. He sways a little, mic close to his mouth, and watches the ceiling like he keeps hoping it’ll open up and drop down on him. His teammates are beside
...more
