Best. Night. Ever.

by Rachele Alpine

  “Good,” says Tess. “Keep doing that. You’re gonna be fine.”

  “And make sure your knees aren’t locked when you’re standing onstage,” Faith says. “I don’t know why, but it keeps you from getting dizzy. I try to bounce a little to the beat. My uncle taught me that. He plays guitar for this band called Neil’s Evil Hamster.”

  I nod and keep breathing. I wish I had asked these girls for advice before I got up onstage. It would’ve been eight billion times more helpful than listening to Abby and Ilana and Shanti babble on about fainting and puking or waiting for Sydney to notice I needed her.

  “People say you should picture the audience in their underwear, but I don’t get how that’s supposed to help,” Claudia says. “Seriously, who wants to see that?”

  Tess wrinkles her nose. “Ugh, Ms. Huff in her underwear. Can you even imagine?”

  “Eww!” everyone shrieks at the same time, and then all five of us crack up. Laughing is even better than the deep breathing, and my chest loosens some more. It practically feels normal now.

  “Sorry we didn’t tell you this earlier,” Tess says. “But you kept saying you were fine.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Mariah hands me a water bottle—where was she hiding that?—and I drink some. “How come you’re so calm?” I ask her. “You’ve never done this before either.”

  She shrugs. “I have to speak in front of people all the time for student council and stuff. I guess I’m used to it. Plus I like it when everyone pays attention to me.”

  “News flash,” Tess says, and Faith and Claudia laugh.

  “I freak out about other stuff, though,” Mariah says. “I’m terrified of heights. I almost didn’t sign up to run the decorating committee because I thought I might have to get on a ladder.”

  I expect Tess to make fun of Mariah some more, but instead she turns back to me. “Feeling any better?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I say, and I mean it. It’s weird how comforting these girls are, even though I don’t know them that well. Usually, Sydney’s the only one who can calm me down. But maybe that’s because I’ve never given anyone else a chance to try. Syd’s my best friend, but she doesn’t really understand what I’m going through tonight. Even if she were here, she might not know the right things to say, like Tess and Faith and Claudia do.

  I’ve always thought that being someone’s best friend meant being everything to them—someone to laugh with and cry with and entrust with every single one of your secrets. I’ve always tried to be that for Syd. But she needed new people anyway, and maybe I deserve to have other people too.

  “Come sit up here,” Faith says. “I’ll redo your makeup.”

  I get up, and my legs don’t shake at all as I walk over and perch next to Faith on the edge of the stage. She wets one of Mariah’s tissues and wipes my cheeks, and it comes away black with melted mascara. Then she pulls out a makeup bag.

  “Put the silver eyeliner on her,” Claudia says. “It’ll look awesome with her skin.”

  Faith nods. “Oooh, yeah, good call. Close your eyes, Gen.”

  The slow, gentle strokes of the pencil are soothing, and I sit very still as Faith lines my eyes. I stay quiet as the rest of the girls talk and laugh around me, but I don’t feel separate now, the way I did when we were in the chorus room. I’m as much a part of the group as they are.

  “There,” Faith says when she’s finished with my makeup. “What do you think?” She pulls out her phone and opens the front-facing camera so I can see myself. My eyes look huge and sparkly and metallic, and my lips are a shiny dark red, the color of the wine Papa drinks on special occasions. Faith did an amazing job, but it’s a pretty out-there look for me.

  “You don’t think it’s too much?” I turn around so the rest of the girls can see.

  “It’s perfect,” Tess says. “Stage makeup is supposed to be dramatic. Now you look like the rock star you are.”

  I look down at the floor. “I’m not a rock star.”

  “Um, you definitely are,” says Faith. “You’re the lead singer in a rock band. That’s the literal definition of ‘rock star.’ ”

  “Only for tonight.” I glance back up at Tess. “Speaking of that, is Carmen going to be mad about, um . . . what happened earlier? Do you think she’ll kick me out of the band?”

  Tess looks confused. “What? Of course not. Why would she do that?”

  “I mean, I don’t think she likes me that much to begin with, and she seemed so mad that I was singing tonight, and when I texted her earlier, she didn’t even write back, so I thought—”

  “She’s just upset that she’s at her cousin’s wedding,” Tess says. “It has nothing to do with you. She thinks you’re great. The second you walked out of your audition, she was like, ‘Yup, that’s the one—she’s amazing.’ Six more people sang after you, but Carmen had already made up her mind.”

  Warmth radiates out from my middle, like I’m suddenly full of hot cocoa and marshmallows. “Really? I . . . I didn’t know that.”

  Ms. Huff pokes her head backstage, and everyone remembers the underwear comment and starts laughing again. “There’s going to be another opening in the broadcast in a couple of minutes,” she says. “I’m really sorry for the disruption. Are you ready?”

  Everyone nods, and Tess looks at me. “You good to go?”

  “Yes,” I say. And even though I’m still scared, this time I’m telling the truth.

  “Great. You can come out onstage now. Take your cues from the cameraman and Mr. Stanwick like last time, okay? Break a leg, ladies!”

  There’s no time for the preshow ritual now, but Tess holds out her arms, and we all smoosh together. “Talented and unafraid!” she yells. “Who are we?”

  “WE’RE HEART GRENADE!” I shout along with the other girls.

  Everyone starts screaming the second we walk out onstage again, and at first, it’s just like before. My heart pounds as I plant my feet on that pink X on the floor, and my chest starts to seize up as I stare into the bright lights. But I take deep breaths like Tess showed me, and I soften my knees like Faith said. And then I sneak a tiny peek over my shoulder at my bandmates, and when they all smile back at me, it’s suddenly nothing like before. I’m the one at the front of the stage, pinned in the white-hot spotlight, but I’m not up here alone. I’m part of something much bigger than myself.

  I watch the cameraman as he counts down on his fingers and points at Mr. Stanwick. “And now,” our vice principal says again, “I give you Heart Grenade, winner of the Lynnfield Mall Battle of the Bands, making their television debut!”

  “One! Two! One, two, three, four!” Tess shouts.

  She starts pounding out the opening of “Hear Us Roar,” but they’re not plain old drumbeats anymore—in her rhythm, I hear You can DO it you can DO it you can DO it you can DO it!

  Faith joins in with a few low bass notes, and I hear Goooooo, Gennnnnn! Goooooo, Gennnnnn!

  Their music makes me brave, and when I raise my head and look out into the crowd, I spot Sydney standing about halfway back on the left side, gripping Kevin’s hand as she cheers us on. She’s not front and center like she promised, but it doesn’t sting quite as much as I expect. This performance isn’t about her and me; there will be time for us to work things out later, when we’re alone. The next four minutes are about me and my new friends, the ones who are willing to stand behind me and back me up.

  My cue comes, and when I open my mouth, my voice flies out like it can’t wait to escape, full and sweet and strong. It glides over my cheering classmates, turns loops over the teachers and the cameraman, and soars out through the airwaves to Dad and Papa and my choir director and the rest of the town. I can almost feel the band smiling behind me.

  Tess was right. Tonight, I am a rock star.

  CARMEN { 10:27 P.M. }

  THERE ARE CERTAIN THINGS IN life I’ll never admit. Like how I sucked my thumb until I was eight. Or how when I’m bored, I like to do math problems for
fun. Or the time I accidentally farted in fifth grade and everyone blamed Marty Thompson and called him Farty Marty for months.

  And I’ll never, ever admit that Genevieve sounds kind of sort of maybe a teeny bit good singing with Heart Grenade.

  I mean, her vocal style is totally different from mine, and there was that point before the lights went off when I could tell she’d forgotten the words, but as a replacement, she isn’t that bad.

  “I love this song!” Alex says. He bounces up and down with Lucas to the beat of “Hear Us Roar.”

  “Heart Grenade is rocking it tonight,” Lucas tells me.

  I eye him suspiciously. Does he mean they’re good because I’m not performing with them?

  “That girl is pretty awesome,” Lucas says, and yep, there it is. They think Genevieve is a better singer than me.

  I wait for the insult to come.

  But it doesn’t happen.

  Instead, Lucas continues to talk. “I mean, she’s good, but she’s got nothing on you. The band sounds even better when you’re singing lead vocals.”

  “He’s right!” Alex chimes in before they go back to dancing to the music.

  “The band sounds great,” Jackson agrees. “Maybe I can get my parents to drive me to see you perform with them sometime.”

  Wait, what?! Jackson wants to see me again after the wedding?! My insides do a crazy happy dance, but outside, I try to play it cool.

  “That would be nice,” I tell him in a small voice that makes me sound totally uncool.

  But he grins back, and a giggle bubbles out of my mouth that I don’t even try to hide.

  “Heart Grenade is my new favorite band,” Lucas exclaims as he pumps his fist in the air.

  And here’s one more thing that I’ll never, ever admit: Maybe my family isn’t so bad after all.

  RYAN { 10:28 P.M. }

  AMANDA HAS A DIMPLE ON either side of her mouth. You can’t really see them until she smiles. But she smiles a lot, especially when I pay attention to her.

  “Mr. Thomas,” Amanda says as we wait for the concert to start. “How boring is he?”

  “I guess it would be hard for anyone to make exponential equations fun and interesting,” I joke.

  Amanda laughs. She’s laughed at every other jokey comment I’ve made so far. I like that about her. Plus, I feel relaxed talking to her, now that I’m over my initial nervousness.

  All that was forgotten as soon as Mariah stepped onstage. I can’t take my eyes off my best friend as she sings into the microphone and moves to the music. I’m sure everyone else in the room notices the way she lights up that stage.

  “Mariah is doing a great job,” Amanda says as we stand there watching Heart Grenade perform. I wonder if she says that because she realizes my eyes have been on Mariah the whole time.

  “She is,” I say, turning to smile at Amanda, who really is cute. And she hasn’t put me in the friend zone. At least I don’t think she has.

  I’ve spent so long crushing on Mariah, I haven’t really noticed girls like Amanda. Maybe I should start. But before I can do that, I need to settle things with Mariah.

  I haven’t felt right since speaking to her before the performance. I started dancing with Amanda to make Mariah jealous, but after a few minutes, we were laughing and having a good time, and I kind of forgot about Mariah until I saw her onstage.

  As I stand here, I realize that this whole jerk act isn’t me. Mariah and I need to get things back to where we were at the beginning of the night. If that means she’ll never think of me as more than a friend, fine. It’s better than having her hate me for being mean.

  “Thank you, everyone!” Genevieve says into the microphone, and I realize that Heart Grenade is finished. That means Mariah will be coming off that stage. She should see a friendly face when she does.

  “Excuse me,” I say to Amanda. “I’ll be right back. Just have to congratulate my best friend.”

  I walk toward the stage. The band members wave at the audience as they head for the stairs. Tess and Mariah are at the back of the group. If I go straight there, I can meet Mariah when she comes down.

  But I can’t greet her empty-handed. I need flowers or a glass of punch or something to give her as a peace offering. I see something even better than punch on the refreshments table: cupcakes . . . and the icing is purple, Mariah’s favorite color.

  I grab one, then try to squeeze through the crowd that has gathered near the edge of the stage. Heart Grenade is famous!

  “Hey, Ryan,” Faith says as she breezes past me. She’s quickly surrounded by a bunch of people kissing up to her. The good news is, by the time Mariah and Tess make it to the bottom of the stairs, the group has moved away, giving me a fair shot at Mariah.

  Only she doesn’t make eye contact with me. She acts like I’m not even standing there.

  “Mariah!” I call out.

  She says something to Tess, then turns to me with a stony expression on her face.

  “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” I hold out the cupcake to her.

  “Uh-huh.” Her arms are crossed firmly across her chest.

  “I was acting like a jerk earlier,” I say.

  “Yep.”

  Okay, so maybe I didn’t think this one through. I can’t explain why I was being a jerk without coming right out and saying that I like her.

  “Look,” she says, dropping her arms and looking around. “I know, all right?”

  “Know?” I ask, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach.

  “I know know,” she says, avoiding my eyes. She shifts from one foot to the other. “It’s just . . . you’re like a brother to me. I don’t even want to like guys that way right now, and when I do like one, it’s weird. But our friendship isn’t weird. It’s real. That’s better than being my boyfriend, because you’re my always friend.”

  I want to drop the cupcake at her feet and run as far and as fast as my feet will carry me. But I don’t. Instead, I take a deep breath and I try to hear what she’s saying. Boyfriends don’t always last. Best friends do.

  But that’s only if I can start being a real friend.

  What can I do? If she doesn’t feel that way about me, she doesn’t. I’d rather have her in my life as a friend than nothing at all.

  “Okay,” I finally say. “Friends?”

  I don’t completely mean it now, but in a while I might. It’s worth a try anyway.

  I hold the cupcake toward her. She looks down, a big smile breaks across her face, and she takes it.

  “Best friends,” she says.

  TESS { 10:31 P.M. }

  SO THIS IS WHAT BEING a real rock star is like. The second we finished playing—before we could even jump off the stage—we were swarmed. And despite the rough start, people loved us. So much so that there are still a bunch of kids hanging around, never mind that we finished three minutes ago.

  When Mariah said that someone had sabotaged the show, I was, well . . . not happy. More like the polar opposite of happy. Even though the lights going out was probably the best thing that could’ve happened for Gen at that moment, and everything turned out okay (or really, better than okay), if I find out who’s responsible, heads will roll.

  For now, I give a funny look to a girl in marching band who asks if Heart Grenade needs a clarinet player. And I check my phone. There’s a text from Carmen. I wish she were here. Without her, the night is just a tiny bit less than perfect.

  ♥♥♥

  Thx!! Not the same without you.

  I hit send on the text and make my way around the edge of the stage to Mariah and Ryan.

  “Hey!” Mariah says, purple frosting dotting her upper lip.

  “Hi . . .” I raise my eyebrows at Ryan, a.k.a. her best friend who was acting like a jerk to her earlier. She told me all about it while we waited backstage. I can’t believe I thought he might like her. And I really can’t believe I care about Mariah’s feelings.

  “Everything’s okay,” Mariah says with a little smile. />
  I give Ryan a look, just in case he gets any ideas about acting that way again. “If you say so.”

  “Really, it is.” Mariah stares at her purple cupcake. “I . . . I wanted to say thank you.”

  “To him?” I ask. Ryan shrinks a little bit.

  “No, weirdo, you.” She rolls her eyes, and for a moment, she looks like the old Mariah. The one who would’ve marched up to me after the show and told me she could’ve played the drums ten times better than I had.

  “Um . . . you’re welcome?” I tap out a cymbal pattern on my thigh. This is all just a little . . . strange.

  Mariah grins. “You’re the one who let me be part of the group tonight. And I loved it.” She pauses. “Your face! You look like no one’s ever thanked you before.”

  Actually, no one does. Not very often, anyway. Then again, “nice girl” is hardly my middle name. Tess “Nice Girl” Emrich. Okay, no. That sounds ridiculous. But . . . I am leaving this dance with two new friends: Genevieve . . . and Mariah, the one girl I never thought would be a friend.

  Maybe I should try this being-nice thing a little more often.

  “You’re welcome,” I say to Mariah again. At least it doesn’t sound like a question this time. “You know, sometimes Heart Grenade could use two backup singers. If you’re interested, anyway.”

  She smiles. “Yeah. I might be.” She breaks off a piece of that electric purple cupcake and holds it out to me.

  “Thank you,” I say as I take it.

  She blinks at me. “You’re . . . welcome.” Mariah almost trips over the words.

  We both start cracking up.

  “I don’t get it,” Ryan says. That makes us laugh harder.

  When I finally catch my breath, I hand him my phone and make him take a picture of me and Mariah, arms around each other’s shoulders, a bite of cupcake in each of our free hands. Carmen is going to die when she sees this. I hit send on the text. Right away, my phone dings.

  DID YOU LOSE A BET?!?

  I laugh as I type back to her.

  Nah. Just that Leif’s parents sold the bank and Ashlyn donated her designer clothes to charity and Mariah isn’t all that bad.