We rushed to follow them, but the line for the show was incredibly long. It snaked around the side of the Lane Elliott Conference Center, where the network was filming, and went back for more than two blocks. I’m told that some of the earliest people had even camped out on the street overnight just to be sure they’d get to audition, and here were my friends and me flying past it all.
The calls of “Lemonade Mouth!” continued. I saw Olivia trying to bow her head and cover her face, but that only seemed to make the camera operators more interested, not less. It was so crowded that Naomi and I kept getting separated from the rest of our group. Just as Stella and the others were being led into a roped-off area ahead of us, a beefy lady with an earphone blocked our path.
“Just where do you two think you’re going?” she demanded. “The line starts on Seventh Avenue.”
We pointed to our friends and said we were with them, but it was obvious she didn’t believe us. I started to panic. Fortunately Mo looked back and saw what was happening. “It’s all right! They’re with us!” One of the handlers nodded, and after a moment of hesitation, ear-monitor lady waved us through.
“Can you believe this?” I whispered. “How far do you think we’re going?”
Naomi looked just as astonished as I was. As we ducked past a security guard I felt her fingers reaching out to grasp mine. My breath caught. The thing was, even though I’d had a secret crush on her for a long time, I was always too nervous to say so. In a way it’s kind of fitting that the first time Naomi and I ever held hands was as we were chasing after our favorite band together—a band whose members also happened to be our closest friends.
“All the way,” she said, rushing us forward and giving my fingers another squeeze. “I think Lemonade Mouth is headed for the front of the line.”
NORMAN GIFFORD
My Own Little Contribution to the Rock-and-Roll Record Books
Our escorts seemed to be on a mission, powering the kids through the crowd like offensive tackles protecting a football. I heard later that they ended up knocking a few people over, which is terrible, but I didn’t see any of that. I was too busy struggling to keep up. At first I was worried about Mrs. Reznik, my son’s little old music teacher, but she was doing just fine. Better than I was, in fact. I had trouble keeping up with her.
I would have laughed if I wasn’t so impressed.
For the hundredth time I couldn’t help thinking what a shame it was that Sydney was missing all this. Back when Wen first dropped the news to us that he was only allowed to bring one guardian along, Sydney had tried her best to be the one. She’d given me her most persuasive look, actually pleading with me at one point. See, we’d both been huge fans of the show since season one. But come on. My kid’s band was auditioning on American Pop Sensation! No way was I going to miss that. So during the entire drive down to New York she’d been texting me for updates. WHERE R U NOW? she’d write, and I’d answered her with the truth (except every once in a while just for fun I’d made up obvious lies like BACKSTAGE WITH ELVIS. U?).
Our escorts led our little group deeper into the conference center building until at last we came to a high-ceilinged waiting area. It was like a media circus. Cameras everywhere. Costumed dancers practicing their moves. Nervous-looking kids standing in circles singing, their heads nodding in time. A red light flashed and somebody called out, “Thirty seconds! Quiet everyone!” and the noise level dropped. Monique Hirsh elbowed me and I followed her gaze toward a back corner of the room. The show’s blond, curvy host, Belinda Vree, was standing in front of a camera. You could have knocked me over. Belinda Vree! Everybody who followed APS—which had to be just about everyone with a television—knew her. She had one of the most downloaded faces in the world and there she was, only fifty feet away.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little starstruck.
“We’re back, America!” Belinda said, flashing her famous toothy grin. “We’re nearing the end of day two of our New York auditions, and we’re broadcasting live from the Pressure Chamber!”
One of the network guys whispered for us to stay put while he went off to tell one of the assistant directors we were here. I stood blinking at the chaos, hardly able to believe I was in the middle of all this. Belinda was interviewing a skinny preteen girl in rainbow spandex, one of the contestants for the upcoming round, and my phone vibrated. Another message from Sydney.
UPDATE?
I held up my phone, snapped a photo and sent it to her in reply. As it turned out, that shot ended up being a good one—my own little contribution to the rock-and-roll record books. I’ve since seen it posted on Lemonade Mouth fan sites all over the Internet. In the center of the frame you can see Belinda and the spandex girl—the same scene that Sydney and millions of television viewers were watching live on TV at that very moment. But my shot also captured what the TV audience couldn’t see—the crowd of excited people behind the camera and, off to one side but clearly visible, Wen and Stella and the others all huddled together, looking pensive, like they were deep in thought. But the truth is (and I know this from talking with them later), they weren’t thinking much of anything at all. They were just standing there feeling terrified and overwhelmed.
It wasn’t until that moment that the immensity of the situation fully registered in my mind. This was the real thing, and it was happening to my son and his friends. I could only hope they were ready for it.
VINNY PANDIMIGLIO
Trying to Calm CJ
The day Lemonade Mouth was on American Pop Sensation was also supposed to be a big deal day for me and my buddies, but for reasons that had nothing to do with Lemonade Mouth. That’s because we were auditioning too.
We’re called CJ and the Belmar Boyz—same now as it was back then—and we’re all about the harmonies. There are four of us, with CJ and me being the leaders. Back then we’d performed a few times at our high school and at small, local places around Belmar and West Belmar where we grew up in New Jersey. We were always a big hit at nursing homes. But now, at last, after a long day of waiting, we were about to get our big chance to show the world we were somebodies.
So yeah, we had big dreams that day.
As always, American Pop Sensation had five acts auditioning in each round, and everything was streamed onto the Internet. But we’d lucked out, because we got picked to be in one of the four evening rounds that got shown live on prime-time TV. My guess is the show chose us because we were joking around when the camera guy talked to us in line. Some people say that wasn’t it, that it was really just because they liked our Jersey accents. What do I look like, a mind reader? Anyways, it turned out we were in the same round as Lemonade Mouth. I’d never heard of them before then. In fact, I hardly even noticed when they walked into the Judgment Room with only seconds to go until the round started. I just remember a line of geeky-looking kids shuffling into the last seats at the other end of the front row.
Man, was I on edge. Me and my buds were going on third, right after a couple of burly, short-haired chicks who looked like twins, and then a blond guy with bowling pins gripped in his hands. Third was good. It meant not having the pressure of first but still getting it over with.
The three judges—Celeste, Davey Dave and Franco—were offstage somewhere. I hadn’t seen them yet. But I’d been watching the vid screens all day, so I knew they were in an ornery mood. Especially that big guy, Franco. He can be funny, sure, but if he don’t like you he’s not exactly known for being Mr. Tactful. Mostly, though, I was worried about CJ. He was next to me all bug-eyed and sweaty like he was on the verge of a freak-out. Not a good sign. See, I always sing the harmonies with Wayne and Paulie, but CJ takes the melody, and I know from experience that when he gets too nervous it can make his voice shake.
“Relax, man,” I whispered, trying to sound confident. “We worked hard for this. They’re totally gonna give us a golden ticket. Believe it. We’re heading to Vegas, baby!”
CJ nodded, but his knee was po
pping up and down like a piston.
Some lady with a clipboard came out and shouted for everybody to shut up. There was a commercial right then, but it was almost over. The judges were about to take their seats, she told us, and we were going live in ten seconds.
MONIQUE HIRSH
Of Romans and Lions
While my son, Charlie, and his Lemonade Mouth friends were practically being shoved into their seats in the front of the studio, the rest of us from our group were being herded into the last remaining chairs in the back row by a scowling stagehand with a bad haircut. Within seconds a lady with headphones and a wad of chewing gum stood up at the front and told everyone to shut our mouths—she actually said that—adding, “and if anyone makes a peep you’ll be kicked out on your butts so fast you won’t know what happened.” Pleasant. The whole experience was like that, to tell you the truth. I used to make my living driving an eighteen-wheeler with a company of cantankerous truckers, so a certain amount of gruffness usually slides right off me, but this was ridiculous.
Whatever happened to courtesy?
From the seat on my left, Lila Penn elbowed me. An applause sign lit up just as the three famous judges stepped into view. I admit that I was gaping as much as anybody. I’d seen them countless times on TV but now there they were, just fifty feet away. Celeste looked oddly retro with her bouffant red hairdo and a fake pelican around her shoulders—only a former supermodel like her would even attempt such a weird look. Davey Dave seemed shorter and paler in real life than he did on TV, and he looked bored as he took his seat.
But the biggest celebrity, the real star of the show, was Franco.
Lean and muscled, with his goatee and ever-present black beret, Franco sauntered to the judges’ table looking as grumpy as ever. Of the three, he was always the judge to watch, the one whose wisecracks and blunt opinions regularly sparked controversy in schoolyards and offices everywhere. Personally, I’d always thought he was kind of a jerk. A few minutes earlier Norm Gifford and I had caught a brief glimpse of him as he’d flown past us in the hallway. He seemed to have been in a heated argument with a tired-looking woman who somebody told us was the show’s director. Actually, it was just Franco who appeared to be having the argument, jabbing his finger in the air and doing all the talking. From what I saw, he didn’t let the poor woman get a word in.
Suddenly the show’s theme music was blasting. The camera lights changed from red to green. This was it, I realized. This was live television, and millions of viewers all across America were watching.
The first two auditions went by in a flash—and the judges were not impressed. Davey Dave told the first act—a pair of chunky, banjo-playing identical twins who called themselves Glenda and Glenda—that they had no talent. Then Franco sent this droopy-eyed teen rapper/juggler named Jeremy back to his seat with “I have to be honest, Jeremy—I was bored. If you were the last juggling rapper in the world I still couldn’t recommend you to entertain at a toddler’s birthday. You’re that dull.” Some people in the audience thought this was hilarious, but I thought it was just plain mean. Neither of those acts was that bad. But I suppose meanness was part of the show, in a way. Sort of like when the Romans used to send prisoners into the lions’ den for entertainment. With each new brutal comment they made, the judges seemed to be in better spirits. They were enjoying this. Even as the next act, a group of teens who called themselves CJ and the Belmar Boyz, stepped up to the stage, the three judges were still elbowing each other and snickering at how hilarious they were.
Uh-oh, I thought. This doesn’t bode well.
WAYNE BASSO
Getting Off Easy
As just about everybody knows, that audition didn’t exactly go great for us. Before we even got sent up to the stage I could see CJ’s hands shaking. And it wasn’t just him. My palms were a slippery mess and my mouth was so dry I wondered how I was going to sing at all. Finally they called us up and the four of us stood in front of all those lights and cameras. We started off okay. Look back at the online video clip and you’ll see it’s true. It was only after a few seconds that CJ’s voice started to crack. Too bad it was on a high note, so it was totally obvious. I think it kind of killed the last of CJ’s confidence, and after that it kept happening over and over again. Oh man, it was horrible. When we finished, Celeste held her nose like we’d stunk up the room, and Franco pointed us back to our seats. “Come back when you’ve finished with puberty, CJ,” he said, and then he added, “Better yet, don’t.” A bunch of people were rolling in the aisles at that one, but to us it was like a kick to the stomach. Our hopes had been so high. I honestly thought we were gonna get to go to Vegas, but now I wondered how we could even show our faces again in Belmar. I could see that CJ was taking it even harder than the rest of us, and I felt especially bad for him. Thing is, CJ has an amazing voice. Just because maybe that day wasn’t his best don’t mean he’s not super-talented. Trust me, the kid can belt out a song.
That guy Franco don’t know nothing.
But it turned out we got off easy. The next act was a nervous-looking twelve-year-old from Oswego, a scrawny girl named Ruby. She had bad skin and a rainbow leotard that looked like it came from a secondhand shop. The poor kid didn’t stand a chance. As soon as she stepped onto the stage the judges started rolling their eyes, which got some of the audience laughing too. Okay, so the girl had an acne problem and wasn’t exactly glam, but not everybody has to look like a movie star. Besides, the kid was only twelve! She was staring like a frightened bird up there, but when she sang, she sang her heart out. It wasn’t a silky pop-star voice, the boring kind that usually wins on that show, it was a little more raw and interesting, and I’m telling you, to me it was beautiful. That girl was the best act of the round so far, and I’m including us. But when she was done, those judges just sat there curling their lips while that little big-eyed kid blinked into the lights and waited.
After a long silence, the only thing that pinhead Franco said to her was “I’m not going to lie, Ruby—you sounded like a buzz saw in need of an oil change. And by the way, haven’t you ever heard of pimple cream? Good heavens, girl. Wash your face.”
RAY BEECH
Watching from Home
Do I remember my reaction when I heard that? Sure I do! I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my sofa. Come on, it was funny! And yeah, that little girl took it hard, but I remember thinking so what? Sometimes the truth hurts, kid, and you can always count on Franco to tell it like it is. That’s why everybody watches the show night after night. It isn’t just to catch the contestants who might eventually win, it’s also because people love to see what kind of losers try out, and to hear the hilarious stuff the judges say about them. It’s not like anybody forces those people to audition. Even when it’s totally obvious that a kid isn’t going to win, that they’re only going to make fools of themselves, they show up anyway, time and time again. Whose fault is that?
If you’d asked me, I would have told you: Any freak who auditioned for the show was begging for whatever insult they got.
Lemonade Mouth was up next, and I could hardly wait.
See, I knew those kids. We went to the same school. I’d lost my band, Mudslide Crush, and even my best friend the previous school year because of them, and yet for some infuriating reason everybody seemed to think those five were like god’s gift to nobodies or something. It burned me up. All I wanted was for everything to go back to the way it used to be when Mudslide Crush ruled and all was right with the world.
But since that wasn’t going to happen, at least American Pop Sensation was about to dish out some justice.
NAOMI FISHMEIER
Oblivion or Glory
And now, Faithful Readers, it is my privilege to describe what I, your humble reporter, witnessed at that fateful moment. It so happens that during the entire American Pop Sensation incident I was surprisingly near to Lemonade Mouth—so near, in fact, that I was able to see and hear things that few others could.
Be
fore I convey what I observed, though, allow me first to back up just a few minutes.
I need to explain where I was and exactly how I got there.
Back when our little Lemonade Mouth entourage was being rushed through the building, my thoughts had been clouded in a fuzzy pink fog of happy emotion. Even apart from the excitement of the auditions, this had already turned out to be a gigantic day for me. For six incredible weeks Lyle and I had been spending most of our time together without openly admitting that we liked each other, and now here we were running hand-in-hand as we dodged through a crowded building to watch our friends appear on one of the biggest TV shows there was. I was practically floating.
But then at last we arrived at the Judgment Room.
Just when a cranky stagehand was about to lead our group up a set of metal steps to the last available seats, my natural journalistic instincts finally switched back on again. As everyone knows, a good reporter strives to be as close to the action as possible, so it occurred to me right away that the nosebleed section wasn’t going to work. I glanced around. Lyle and I were being led past a wall of green curtains that lined the side of the audience. Scanning along its folds, I spotted a narrow band of darkness where two of the curtains didn’t quite meet. Whatever was behind there, the secret space was only a few steps away and very near the front row, where Lemonade Mouth was about to be seated.
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