Patty was the first one to 'hear' it. Grammo was still voicing out guttural sounds straight from his throat, but somehow, Patty was hearing something from the back of his mind. It felt like the musical vibrations from his sound were magically interacting with the neurons firing in his brain. At first, it was subtle, just making Patty see brief scenes and remember memories.
He thought he was just imagining things, but when he looked around, his classmates stopped trying to deafen their ears. They looked up at Grammo with curiosity. They, too, were affected by the strange vibrations in the air and were seeing memories from their past.
Some were seeing memories when they were children, back when they were at their happiest playing with their parents or family. Their brains were forming connections that they forgot even existed. Happy chemicals were released from their brain and into their bodies, making them relax and feel as if they were back in the world they desired the most.
Their memories might not be the same, but all of them were experiencing nostalgia that they wished they could experience again. This brief recollection of memory served them that experience. But it was only brief. Despite how much they wanted to remember all of their memories, all they could see were flashes and glimpses of the scene.
This didn't satisfy them. They wanted more. And as far as they could tell, the reason why they were feeling this way was because of Grammo. They couldn't believe it. They stopped squirming in their seats, they stopped stuffing paper into their ears, and they actively tried to take in more of what Grammo was singing.
Only when they stopped 'hearing' Grammo sing, and they started to 'listen' to him, did the flashes become glimpses, glimpses became scenes, and disjointed memories became clear. Grammo's song made them experience something they never experienced before: it made them want to come back to when the world was simpler, back to when happiness was as easy as eating candy, back when joy came from playing board games with their friends, back when the pressures of the world weren't weighing down on them.
And even though Grammo was saying nothing but unintelligible sounds, he sounded clearer than he was before. Somehow, the audience understood what he went through. They felt the happiness Grammo felt when he was back with his sister on the moon. They felt the glee he experienced when she sang his favorite song—when she would make funny faces while playing the piano to try and make him laugh. They understood his dream even more now.
Then, his tone changed. Suddenly, the happy memories flashing through their minds were replaced by sadness and loss. They felt the same as if they were back at their lowest point—when they felt like everything was over. Some people saw their family members die, some people felt rejection and heartbreak, and some people imagined what would have happened if they failed at their dreams.
It was a quick and sudden change that made them want to go back to the happy memories even more. They felt it was unfair, but that was life. They understood that Grammo was showing them his vulnerable side, his weakness. He was letting them experience the same sadness he felt when he lost the one he loved the most.
But instead of lingering in the sadness, Grammo suddenly intensified his song. He became even livelier. He walked around the classroom, singing to them individually. He used his hands to express the frustration and sadness he felt back then. He used the space he was given to fully express the craft he came up with. The audience felt like they were at a concert, with Grammo performing with the same passion and intensity as those idols.
They felt the fire inside him. They felt the desire to get back what they lost. It made them want to move to the beat, it made them want to let go of their inhibitions, and just shout their frustrations out to the world. They wanted to rip their homework in half, they wanted to screw their internships, and they wanted to finally be free and do whatever they wanted!
They understood Grammo even more. They understand the ferocity in his heart, and the desperation in his heart to become a singer. They felt a sadness inside him, a sadness that reminded him of why he wanted to reach his dream. Some of them were reminded why they wanted to become a lawyer, why they wanted to become police officers, and why they were going through all of this in the first place.
Grammo was the same. He wanted to achieve his dream because he wanted to reach someone he lost dearly.
And that was where his performance ended. Grammo put down the microphone and took a bow in front of everyone. The audience was speechless. They didn't know what to do. In all technical aspects, Grammo was terrible at singing. His tone-deafness was only worsened by his hoarse voice.
But what about what they felt during his song? What about the myriad of emotions they went through because of his singing? Was that bad?
It made them rethink the very definition of singing and art itself. What was it? Was it not just a way to evoke emotions? Why do artists paint horrible war crimes and tragedies? Was it not because they wanted the audience to remember and feel the pain and suffering caused because of that?
If so, if a painter painted nothing but a white canvas, can it even be considered art? What if it elicited a sense of calm and peace to anyone who viewed it? Was it art?
Those questions flew through their minds. And even though most of them had different opinions and beliefs, they all had the same reaction: Grammo was an artist. He was able to make them feel emotions that not even songs published on discs made them feel. And if given the chance, they would want to listen to him all over again.
It was a unanimous decision. They couldn't believe that they would ever say this, but Grammo proved that he had what it took to become a great singer. He won this.
Even Patty, who helped Grammo throughout all of this, was surprised that he just pulled off a miracle. He didn't even know how that was possible. Grammo never showed this kind of potential.
"But that's impossible…" Professor Wraithborne uttered in disbelief. He was one of the few people who knew that Grammo was bullied by Griff and given the D-class Poison Breath. Because of that, Grammo should be stuck on the Power route. He shouldn't be swaying public opinion as if he was still on the Fame route. That was impossible.
But the facts were staring right at him. He could see his students looking at Grammo with different eyes. Back then, pity and annoyance flashed in their eyes whenever they saw Grammo perform one of his songs. But now, their looks were different. They were looking up to him, idolizing him the way that they idolized rockstars and global superstars. That was impossible. His road to Fame should have been closed!
The professor couldn't understand how Grammo changed so drastically. He shouldn't have this kind of potential. He shouldn't be the kind to break convention. He was supposed to be mediocre. How did he become extraordinary?!
As Grammo finished his performance, he immediately went over to Patty and gave him a high five.
"Dude!" Patty exclaimed. "How did you do that?"
Grammo just shrugged and pointed at Patty. "I just did what you did. I just sang."
"What?" but before Grammo could answer Patty's question, the professor clapped and got their attention.
"I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but the machine has spoken," the professor pointed at the television screen above the Karaoke Machine. The final score written down was a disappointing double zero.
Despite how great the audience thought he was, Grammo still failed to 'sing' properly. Even though everyone who heard Grammo sing admitted that he had the potential to become one of the greatest singers ever, the score on the machine still indicated that he lost the bet.
After all, the Karaoke Machine was designed to be as objective as possible. It only took into account the technical aspects of Grammo's singing, not his audience impact. After all, a machine had no emotions. It had no memories. It didn't understand what made Grammo's singing great.
"Unfortunate as it may be, but you scored zero. You failed," the professor said calmly. The rest of the class was upset about the unfairness of the situation, but they weren't distraught. After all, they didn't know the consequences of this bet.
Only Grammo, Patty, and Professor Ortez knew what this meant.
The professor then walked over in between Patty and Grammo's seats. He put his hand on Grammo's shoulder, consoling him.
"I'm sorry. You're expelled."