Let’s be clear: I wanted that part as I’d never wanted anything in my life. But I don’t know why. Maybe it was because Mr Gabriel always chose Michael for church services, or maybe it’s because I wasn’t one of the choir because mum put me in for extra maths on Tuesdays, or maybe because I knew I could do it so why the hell not? I just knew I wanted to sing at our end of year play and nothing was going to stop me.

I sat through the singing performances of the only two boys who’d put themselves forward. I’m not the sort of kid to be unsupportive but really, truthfully, they weren’t great. Mr Angelo was putting on a great show of pretending they’d done well but I knew I had it in the bag.

I smiled at my friends, walked to the front, and gave it everything I had.

I sang until my voice cracked like a volcano and my face turned a sort of horror story red.

‘Well, that was… lovely, Daniel,’ said Mr Angelo. ‘Very brave, considering.’

As I said, it was in the bag.

‘Michael,’ he continued. ‘You can take the role of Faustus. Jude, you can be Mephistopheles. As for you, Daniel… I think we must forego your singing talents this time but would you mind helping out with the scenery changes?’

I nodded, and the hours dragged themselves across the rest of the day.

Now, the play we were doing—the grand finale to our time at the well-respected St Vitus Primary—was called Doctor Faustus. It was written by someone called Christopher Marlowe and was about this guy Doctor Faustus who makes a deal with the devil. It sounds pretty serious but Mr Angelo had turned it into a comedy with loads of songs and jokes about all the teachers. We’d talked a bit about the original because the history of it was around the time of Shakespeare and apparently (according to Mr Angelo) ‘every child must know and love Shakespeare’.

Whatever.

The reason I’m telling you about the play though is that whilst walking home after school, I had an idea.

A good idea.

No. It was a brilliant idea.

I was going to make a deal with the devil.

Turns out that summoning him wasn’t too tricky. There’s an app for it and all I needed was to stand at a crossroad.

Mum gave me a lift in her car.

The app took care of the rest and before I could say abracadabra, the street light flickered and died, and an old man was standing right in the middle of the road. He looked both ways (well, all four ways) and clip-clopped on his hairy goat legs over to the pavement.

‘What can I do for you, sonny?’ he said, in the sort of voice you get if your elder brother hangs you upside down until your ears begin to roar.

Now, this wasn’t one of those genie things, where you’re always going to think ‘hey, what if I wish for a million wishes—bet that dumb smoke-face won’t have thought of that.’ No, this was a one-time deal, a do-or-die, take-a-chance-on-me sort of thing. Looking back maybe I should have asked him to make me great at making deals, but I didn’t. I couldn’t help thinking of all those faces looking at me during the audition.

‘Singing,’ I whispered. ‘I want to be the best singer in the world.’

‘What’s that, sonny?’ he said. ‘You’re going to have to speak up. I’m, like, a billion years old or something and the old lugs are a bit clogged with brimstone.’

I coughed, cleared my throat and tried again. ‘I command thee to make me into the greatest singer the world hath ever known.’ Between you and me I was a bit proud of the ‘thee’ and ‘hath’, they added a nice, theatrical touch I thought he’d appreciate.

I was right. He nodded and gave a little whistle. ‘Singing. Gotcha. Ok, sonny. I can do that. We just need to shake on it.’

I held out my hand, steady as a dream—which is to say not very steady but I’d like to see you keep your cool in the heat of a moment like that.

‘Sonny,’ he said. ‘My ears are bad, but my eyes are even worse. Just take hold of my hand or we’ll be here all night.’

And that’s when I had my other great idea. That’s when I knew how I’d get one over on the devil.

‘Sure,’ I said, reaching out and taking his hand. It felt dry and rough. Like a pavement when you trip and skin your knee. But we shook on the deal and that was that. He vanished with a crack of lightning and a puff of smoke. It was a bit over the top if I’m honest, but I guess everyone has their style.

I stood there for a minute, maybe two. I don’t think I even breathed, or if I did then some other part of me had taken charge of living my life whilst I contemplated the enormity of what I’d done. I don’t like to brag but, singing auditions aside, I’m usually pretty great at school. One of the top three in my class, for sure. Top five at the most. Sure, I’d made a deal with the devil. But I’d been smart about it.

There was only one way to test the outcome.

I opened my mouth and…

…sang. Actually, that’s not a good enough word. In fact, there isn’t a word for what came out of my mouth.

You know when you open the curtains on a sunny winter morning and there’s fresh snow and it looks like a whole new world?

You know when you don’t put a foot wrong from the moment you wake to the moment you fall asleep?

You know when you’re just indescribably… happy?

All that came out in song form. To my ears, I was making a sound the likes of which the world had never heard before. It had worked, and the best bit of it was that the deal wouldn’t cost me a thing. With his failing eyesight, the old fool hadn’t noticed me slip one hand behind my back and cross my fingers as we shook on it. I sang with joy at the very thought of what I’d managed to do.

I knew what I needed to do next.

As the play rehearsals progressed, I did my job shifting scenery but listening to every word sung. After school each day I scurried off into the woods near where I lived and I practised and practised until I had every part down perfectly. If I wasn’t going to be included in the play then I’d just have to upstage them.

The night of the performance came and families shuffled into their seats. I let Michael do his opening number and then I stepped out from behind the scenery, walked to the front of the stage and opened my mouth.

My classmates looked to each other. This wasn’t what they’d rehearsed and so they didn’t know what to do. I saw Mr Angelo getting up out of his seat but before he could take more than a couple of steps, I sang.

I sang as I’d never sung before. If my voice had been perfection from the moment of the deal then right there and then it went past that point. I gazed down at the parents and grandparents, the brothers and sisters, the teachers and assistants and the parish priest and I saw them all put their hands to their ears.

Some people fell to the floor. Some tried to rush out of the school hall. Others just clutched at their heads and wept and at that moment I heard the sound I’d been practising for months, the sound I’d thought was the most beautiful singing in the world: screaming. Everyone was screaming but even their screams were not as blood-curdling as my own.

I fell silent.

‘Don’t stop now, sonny,’ came a voice from the back row. ‘This is music to my ears.’

 

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