The laughter in the studio was deafening. “Guys, if this little one hits even a single note, I’ll put 50,000 € on the table right away. I’ll marry her on the spot!” the host practically shouted into the microphone, staring at Lena as if she were dirt beneath his shoes. The guy was completely losing it, pointing at the stage where this girl stood, completely dirty and trembling like aspen leaves. Lena was frozen. She clung to her ancient Western guitar, which was held together only by duct tape.
“Man, she was only 20,” she thought as the mocking faces in front of her blurred. Since her parents had died in a terrible fire shortly after her graduation, she had been living on the streets. This junk guitar was all she had left. The last memento. Every morning she struggled to get up from the cold floor in the entrance of the savings bank. “The other day, a guy in a suit told me to shut up on the subway,” she whispered to herself as the memory surfaced. “The security threw me out and threatened to call the police.” She had been at the end of her rope. Then suddenly Jonas and Lisa approached her. “You have an insane talent,” they had said, handing her the flyer for the casting.
Kalle, who ran the corner convenience store, had finally convinced her. He had seen the note, looked Lena deep in the eyes, and said, “Girl, go there, you have gold in your throat, don’t be stupid.” So she had gone to the huge glass tower in Frankfurt. The doorman had looked her over dismissively. The producer Stefan, with his forced TV smile, had waved her through. And then, in the waiting area, the psychological terror began. “Especially that Vanessa, an arrogant bitch, just like in the picture book,” Lena remembered. “She immediately started loudly gossiping about my smell.”
And then the moment of truth. The studio was packed. Millions of viewers live. Lena shuffled onto the stage. The host scrutinized her from head to toe, checking the hoodie, the boots, the garbage guitar. He snatched the microphone, grinned maliciously into the camera, and shouted, “Okay, friends, let’s see if our ears don’t fall off, I’ll treat the whole hall to a round of currywurst!” The audience roared with laughter. In Lena’s head, there was only one clear thought, a spark in the icy stillness: The 50,000 euros. A home. A chance. She closed her eyes, her fingers found the first chords on the strings as if by themselves. The silence that spread for a split second was more threatening than any laughter.
