Millie took a detour after Math and found Rainbow halfway to her next class. The moment they made eye contact, Rainbow averted her eyes and picked up speed.
“Did I do something to make you mad?” Millie asked abruptly. She could hear the shake in her own voice. The fear that she’d hurt Rainbow without even meaning to.
Rainbow stopped, eyes pinned to the floor, and sighed. “I—I feel like everyone put me in an uncomfortable situation with Zuki.”
Millie’s shoulders felt too heavy to hold up. “I know. It’s awkward for all of us.”
“No,” Rainbow said, and stepped closer. “It’s awkward for me. Because I never said I wanted to sing lead. Ashley just volunteered my name like that without even asking me. It wasn’t nice to be cornered like that, and I don’t like people using me to win an argument. And it’s especially bad because of what Zuki is going through.” Rainbow clamped her mouth shut like she’d said too much.
“What do you mean?” Millie’s stomach sank. “Do you—do you know something?”
Rainbow shook her head. “I’ve just been noticing things, that’s all. Like, this one time in PE, someone slammed their locker too hard, and Zuki practically leaped out of her skin. She was so scared. And—and I don’t think it’s normal to be that scared, you know?”
Millie felt a lump growing in her throat. “If something’s wrong, I want to know. I want to help.”
Rainbow pushed her glasses up her nose. “You should talk to her.”
“But she won’t let me,” Millie said. “She’s been avoiding me all day.”
“Just … give her time,” Rainbow said quietly.
Millie stared at the floor. She should’ve said something. She should’ve talked with Zuki when she first realized something was off, instead of letting it get this far.
“I don’t know how to fix this,” Millie admitted.
Rainbow looked sullen. “I don’t either. But I think it’s better if I eat lunch by myself for a while, at least until things blow over. I don’t like confrontation.”
“I get it,” Millie said sadly. “I’ll try to talk to Zuki, okay?”
Rainbow nodded once before dropping her eyes and hurrying off to class, leaving Millie alone in the courtyard.
* * *
Millie felt like she’d broken up with her friends. Or rather, like they’d broken up with her.
Luna was back to sitting with Annabelle and Ruby every day at lunch. Rainbow was hiding somewhere on campus, preferring solitude to company. And Zuki was doing such a good job of avoiding everyone that Millie hadn’t seen her in days.
Ashley was the only one who still ate lunch with Millie in the courtyard, but they hardly said a word, and Millie got the feeling it was only a matter of time before they left, too.
She couldn’t take it. Not speaking to Zuki felt like her stomach was full of fire ants, eating her from the inside out.
Millie made up an excuse to leave class early and headed across campus to the orchestra room. She knew Zuki was in class, and she had to see her. She missed her friend, and she believed in her heart that Zuki missed her, too.
Zuki appeared just after the bell rang, with her orange backpack hanging behind her and a mess of key chains jingling like a chorus with each step she took. The J-Club key chain was still there.
Maybe it was a sign everything was going to be okay.
When she spotted Millie, Zuki’s face struggled between a smile and a frown.
“Hey,” Millie attempted to break the ice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Zuki shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”
“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Zuki interrupted. “The others can do whatever they want. It’s their band now.”
“You don’t mean that,” Millie tried. “Tell me what’s wrong. Is something going on at home?”
Zuki’s face tensed. “This has nothing to do with me. It’s them. They wanted J-Club all to themselves and now they can have it.”
Millie frowned. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what?” Zuki blinked stubbornly.
“Like you don’t care. Because I know you do. And you should be trying harder to keep the group together,” Millie said.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Zuki said coolly. “I was getting bored anyway. All we do is rehearse, and it’s not even fun. Ashley and Luna are always fighting, Rainbow barely says a word, and you just agree with everything I say.”
Millie froze, hurt. What was happening? Why was Zuki acting like this? A few days ago, J-Club was the most important thing in the world to her. And all of a sudden she didn’t care? It didn’t make sense.
Not to mention, Ashley and Luna were in a better place than they’d been in months, Rainbow was finally opening up to the group, and Millie most definitely didn’t agree with everything Zuki said.
Did she?
“That’s—that’s not true,” Millie argued.
“Yes, it is,” Zuki pointed out. “It’s like you don’t want me to be mad at you. And real friends tell each other the truth.”
“What are you even talking about?” Millie growled, heart racing. She didn’t know how to react to this. How to deal with this.
Were they falling apart, too?
“You’re the one who doesn’t tell the truth,” Millie said suddenly. “You won’t tell me what’s really happening with your parents, or why you’ve been seeing the school counselor so much, or why you haven’t been the same since Christmas. If friends tell each other the truth, then tell me what’s wrong!”
“Who cares?” Zuki barked back. “Telling you about my parents won’t change anything. It won’t make them care. It won’t make my dad less angry at me. It won’t make my mom want me to live at her house full-time so I don’t have to—” She stopped, tears flowing down her cheeks. “You wouldn’t get it, because your parents are perfect.”
“My parents aren’t perfect,” Millie countered.
Zuki shook her head. “Why, because they make you take flute lessons and care about whether you’re failing your classes or not? You have no idea. And everyone is trying to take away the only thing in my life that makes me happy.”
“That’s not what we’re doing!” Millie’s voice sounded like a plea, but Zuki was already pushing past her. “Zuki, you’re my friend. Stop walking away.”
“That’s what people do when they’re not friends anymore,” Zuki said coldly before disappearing into the crowd.
Millie stared after her, not sure what to say.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The kitchen table was covered in pages of notes, most of them finished in Millie’s hurried scribbles. She had two kinds of handwriting: her natural one and the one she used when her parents were watching. It had become such a habit for her to switch between the two that if her teachers ever compared her homework to her other notes, they probably wouldn’t believe they’d been done by the same person.
Millie set her finished vocabulary assignment to the side and took out a blank sheet of paper to start her English essay.
J-Club wasn’t an incentive for good grades anymore, but it didn’t matter. Millie liked succeeding in school, and she wasn’t about to throw all her hard work out the window by letting her grades drop.
Jane appeared with a mug of coffee, eyeing Millie’s essay from over her shoulder.
“It’s hard to concentrate when you’re watching me like that,” Millie mumbled.
“Hmm? Oh, I just wanted to see how you were doing,” Jane replied innocently.
“You could always just ask,” Millie said.
Jane frowned and sat in one of the empty chairs. She set her mug down and steam snaked its way into the air. “You’ve been in a funny mood lately. Is everything okay at school?”
Millie rolled her eyes. “School is fine. So is band, since I know you’ll ask that next.”
Jane didn’t look away. She tapped
a nail against her ceramic mug. “I noticed your phone isn’t ringing as much as it used to.”
Millie froze. Had her mom really noticed something that didn’t relate to studying? Something that didn’t relate to music?
“Is everything okay with Zuki?” Jane pressed.
Millie couldn’t help herself—she felt like a flimsy twig, ready to snap.
So she did.
“I don’t have time for friends. I’m either practicing or doing homework. And since when did you care about my social life?” She knew she’d gone too far, but she was committed now. She let a frown settle onto her face and glared.
Jane narrowed her eyes. “I don’t like this new attitude of yours. Clearly you’re picking up bad habits from the other kids at school, which is one of the things your dad and I wanted to avoid.”
Millie set her pen down too hard, and Jane raised an eyebrow. Millie was edging very close to being grounded. Again.
Not that it mattered. None of her friends were even talking to each other.
“They’re not bad habits,” Millie said. “I’m allowed to be in a bad mood once in a while. It’s not the end of the world. It’s normal.”
“Well, talking to your mom this way isn’t normal,” Jane said. “Not in our house.” She watched Millie carefully. “Did you and Zuki have a fight?”
Millie’s eyes began to water and she bit down on the inside of her cheek just so she wouldn’t have to answer.
“I see,” Jane said quietly. “Friendships can be hard sometimes. It’s one of the reasons your dad and I always wanted you to focus on school instead. Because friendships come and go, and they can take over your life when they shouldn’t.”
“How would you even know?” Millie barked. “You’ve never cared about friends in your entire life!”
Jane blinked, momentarily stunned. Millie never spoke to her parents like that. Not even when part of her wanted to.
Her mom took a deep breath, concentrating on her words. “You’re obviously under a lot of stress with school, which deserves a discussion. But right now, I think you need some time to calm down. Because the way you’re speaking to me is completely unacceptable.”
Millie’s gaze practically burned a hole into the table.
Jane sighed. “Just try to remember what’s important. You have a family who loves you—more than anything.” She tucked a strand of hair over Millie’s ear. “Even when you’re angry.”
When she took her coffee and disappeared into the next room, Millie sank back in her chair and crossed her arms.
Her mom didn’t get it. Friendships weren’t separate from family. One wasn’t more important than the other. Sometimes they were family. A different kind than having parents, but still a family.
Millie had two parents who were raising her and who loved her and believed they had her best interests at heart, but they never made her feel like she belonged. But with J-Club, with her friends, she felt like she had a real place in the world.
Wasn’t that what family was supposed to make you feel?
Her parents would never understand why she was upset.
Which meant Millie was once again all on her own.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Millie scrolled through a list of Generation Love interviews. She was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with a pillow in her lap, for no reason other than because it felt cozy. Comfortable.
Her parents always said she was born ready for cuddling. They said the only way to get her to sleep when she was a baby was by letting her curl up against one of their chests, because if they set her down, she’d immediately start to cry. So they’d sleep in shifts, one of them always holding Millie close against their heart, forever kissing the side of her head.
Sometimes Millie wondered if it hadn’t been the cuddling she craved. It was the human contact. And not being in touch with her friends felt like someone had ripped half of her heart away.
She clicked on another video, watching Chiyo’s smiling face appear on the screen. She made a heart with her hands, and bounced on her toes. Millie couldn’t think of another human being who was as happy and excitable as Chiyo. Except maybe Zuki, before everything changed.
The rest of Generation Love appeared, one by one, each getting a huge reaction from the crowd. Each of them had their own individual fan base outside the group, which Millie always thought was cool. She liked the idea that there was someone out there for everyone. That it didn’t matter how different you were—someone out there would appreciate you just for being yourself.
She read the subtitles as Chiyo spoke to the host about the ups and downs of the group’s success. Generation Love was known for being incredibly positive but also honest about what being in the spotlight could sometimes feel like. It had always made them relatable. Human.
And then Chiyo began to recap a period of time when the group disagreed about where their album was going. There had been rumors Chiyo was planning to go solo, and it had affected how the others felt about any new material. But in the end, Chiyo had showed them that she had no intention of leaving “her family,” as she put it. She hadn’t signed up to be a solo artist—she’d signed up to be part of a team. A team she grew to love.
The crowd cheered after her answer, just as proudly as Millie remembered. She’d seen most of their interviews at least a couple of times each. But what she’d forgotten were the words.
Family. Team. Love.
Chiyo had fought to keep the band together. They’d all fought for one another, and they didn’t give up, even when things got hard.
Millie’s heart came to life behind her rib cage.
If J-Club was going to stand a chance, then she had to fight for them, too. She had to find a way back to her friends. To what mattered.
She wouldn’t give up until they were a family again.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Ashley was in the tech room, dressed in a black shirt and black pants. They were so busy prepping for the band concert that they barely heard Millie when she stepped into the small room.
“I thought you might be up here,” Millie said softly. She was dressed in black, too, but she was wearing her old recital dress. It still fit, although the neckline was itchy, and Millie wished the arms weren’t so tight.
Ashley pushed their chair away from the equipment. “You performing tonight?”
Millie nodded. There was still nearly an hour before she had to be onstage. “I wanted to talk to you about Zuki. And Rainbow.” She felt like there was a rock in her stomach. “Do you think maybe you could apologize about saying Rainbow should sing lead? I think it hurt Zuki’s feelings. Rainbow’s, too, actually. And I just want things to go back to normal.”
Ashley shook their head. “But I’m not sorry. I told Zuki the truth, which is more than anyone else has done.”
Millie flinched. “I do tell her the truth.”
“No, you don’t.” Ashley sighed. “Look, I know you two are basically a pair, but Zuki has been acting too controlling for a while. Even before winter break, she was trying to force all of us to have those personas or whatever. She just assigned us a member of the band like she was handing out personalities. It was weird. And she made herself the lead singer without even asking anyone, when she is obviously not the best singer.”
“I know, but still, Zuki really needs this group. So do I,” Millie said desperately. “School isn’t the same without all of you. Besides, you lost a friend a long time ago. Do you really want to do that all over again?”
“Luna was different,” Ashley said almost protectively. “We used to be even closer than you and Zuki before she ditched me.”
“But you two are friends again now,” Millie tried. “You fixed what was broken. Can’t we do the same with J-Club?”
“But it’s not fixed with Luna,” Ashley pointed out. “I don’t know if we’ll ever be fixed.”
Millie frowned. “What happened between you two?”
Ashley’s eyes trailed over the te
ch equipment. “We’d been best friends since we were kids. And at some point, people at school started talking about crushes, and dating, and who they’d imagine getting married to. They had all these ridiculous games, and they always revolved around matching a boy and a girl together. And it always made me uncomfortable for a lot of reasons. But mostly because I never looked at boys the way any of the girls in my classes would, or vice versa.” Ashley paused. “I only ever looked at Luna.”
Millie was quiet for a moment, letting her understanding sink in. “You like Luna.”
“I started getting so nervous around her. I was terrified people would find out and make fun of me. They already gave me a hard time about having short hair,” Ashley said. “But mostly I was terrified our friendship would change.”
“Did you tell her how you felt?” Millie asked.
“I didn’t have to. It was obvious. And I guess Luna was embarrassed of me or something because she stopped talking to me one day and found different friends.” Ashley was stoic. “I never cared if she didn’t feel the same way about me. It just hurt to be rejected by the one person in the world who was supposed to understand me.”
“You should tell her,” Millie said. “Maybe that’s something good that can come out of J-Club—you two can fix things.”
“I know I gave her a hard time about keeping J-Club a secret,” Ashley admitted. “Which wasn’t cool because I do actually understand why it’s hard for her to leave her friends. Telling the world who you really are can be scary.” They looked away. “But I guess I hoped she’d changed. That maybe this time, things would be different.”
“So that’s why you joined J-Club?” Millie asked.
Ashley laughed. “I thought it was a sign that Luna missed our friendship somehow. Because J-Pop was always our thing, even when we were little.”
Millie stared at the floor. “I know I’m not important to you the way Luna was, but you’re still my friend. And I don’t want to lose you.”
“Look, if you’re worried about me leaving you alone at lunch, don’t be.” Ashley shrugged. “I’m kind of used to eating with people now.”
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