The Brightsiders

by Jen Wilde

  When I finally walk down the stairs, ready to show off my Halloween costume, the first thing I see is Alfie. Dressed as an angel.

  “Oh, fuck off!” I blurt out.

  He holds his arms up. “What?” he asks with a half smile.

  “An angel?” I ask. “Really?”

  His costume doesn’t get much simpler: white skinny jeans with rips over the thighs and knees, glittery gold ankle boots, a white lace bra, and white, feathery angel wings. A gold halo sits atop his mess of brown hair like a flower crown.

  “I can pass as an angel for one night,” he says. He looks at my outfit and raises an eyebrow. “Gender-bent Danny Zuko, right?”

  I spin around to show him the T-Birds graphic on the back of my jacket, flipping my collar up again for that extra Grease vibe. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” My Danny Zuko impression needs work, but I have all night to perfect it.

  “Ooh,” Alfie says. “Tell me about it, stud!”

  Chloe struts toward me, dressed as Prince in his famous Purple Rain outfit. “How do I look?” they ask. “And you can only answer in Prince titles.”

  “Baby, you’re a star,” I say, taking a photo of them on my phone.

  Chloe pulls me in for a hug. “I knew I was friends with you nerds for a reason.”

  “Um,” Alfie says, scratching his chin. “Oh! Nothing compares to you.”

  “Is my rainbow straight?” Charlie asks when she walks into the room. I turn to her, and my jaw drops. She has turned herself into the Snapchat unicorn-rainbow-vomit filter, painting rainbow lines down from her bottom lip, over her chin, and down her neck. She continued the stream by painting it all down her white tank top. A unicorn horn sits atop her head.

  “Nah,” Chloe says, giggling. “There’s nothing straight about you, honey.”

  Charlie bounces on her heels nervously. “No, seriously. Is it okay?”

  “It’s fine!” I say.

  She pouts. “I was going for iconic.”

  “It’s iconic.”

  “Thanks!” she says.

  “Hey, Em,” Chloe says, pointing to my neck. “Are you going to cover that hickey up?”

  “Nah,” I say. “It’s part of the costume now. A hickey from Kenickie. I’m dressed as my headcanon version of Danny Zuko, where he’s hopelessly devoted to Kenickie.”

  Charlie frowns, crinkling her rainbow. “Who does Sandy end up with?”

  “Frenchy, of course. And Rizzo becomes the first female president and saves the world.”

  Ryan comes out of Chloe’s guest bathroom dressed as Jon Snow, his cape flowing behind him majestically. “Halloween is coming.”

  “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” Charlie says.

  “Hold up,” Chloe says before adjusting Ryan’s wig for him. “Perfect.”

  Charlie searches her Blizzard backpack and pulls out a selfie stick. “Let’s get a group selfie.”

  We all huddle together, posing as our characters while Charlie holds out the selfie stick and takes photos. “Everybody say ‘pumpkin spice latte’!”

  * * *

  Our limo joins the line, inching toward the entrance to the red carpet. My fingers shake from nerves. This is my first big media event since the day the breakup tape was leaked. The others step out before me, and I take a second to check my wig and just breathe. When I step out, paparazzi and reporters and fans push one another out of the way to see who can get closest to us.

  I have a love/hate relationship with red carpets. On the one hand, it’s tons of fun getting glammed up for the cameras and star spotting on the carpet. On the other, getting yelled at by men to smile and show some skin while a million lights go off in my face is disorienting, to say the least. But I do get to see fans, and that always gives me life.

  Step and pose and smile and pause and step and pose and smile and pause. Repeat until someone who actually knows what they’re doing tells you to move along so someone more famous can have their photo taken.

  While we’re posing for photos, Alfie leans in and mutters in my ear. “Just FYI, you look incredibly hot in that costume.”

  I do my best to not move a muscle so the cameras don’t capture something in my face that I don’t want them to see. But that’s hard to do when someone like Alfie is whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

  Neutral, Em. Stay neutral.

  “Your ass looks amazing in those jeans,” he whispers. I swallow hard, my smile quivering.

  “Alfie!” one of the paps yells. “Look straight at us, pal! Just look straight!”

  “Sorry,” Alfie says, waving. “It’s impossible for me to ever look straight.” He sticks his tongue out and waggles his eyebrows.

  We’re hustled off the carpet and into the party. On the way in, I take him by his elbow, stand on my tiptoes, and say in his ear, “Are you trying to turn us into a scandal?”

  He flashes a half smile and puts his lips right against my ear. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

  I play it cool even though I feel like I’m melting into a puddle. “Later. Try to control yourself until then.” And then I wink and walk away, because looking at him is making my heart ask questions that my mind doesn’t want to hear.

  If this were a month ago, now would be the time I’d head to the bar. Instead, I focus on a round table covered with food in the center of the room. There are cupcakes that look like brains and pumpkins and spiders, doughnuts with vampire teeth in the holes, and cookies that look like tombstones. I take a doughnut and three cake pops made to look like eyeballs.

  “Baby!” a voice calls, and Charlie runs over to a table where Alyssa is sitting with their friends Taylor and Jamie. I follow her over to say hi.

  “Your costumes are so adorable,” I say as I take a seat.

  To match Charlie, Alyssa is dressed as the golden-butterfly-crown Snapchat filter. Tay is dressed as Queen Firestone from the famous book and movie series, and her boyfriend Jamie is some kind of anime-looking character whom I don’t recognize.

  “Naruto,” he says when I ask him.

  “You make an awesome Danny Zuko,” Tay says.

  “Thanks! Your Queen Firestone is pretty on point, too.”

  She beams, and Jamie puts an arm around her. “Tay came runner-up in a Queen Firestone cosplay contest at SupaCon last year,” he says.

  Tay blushes faster than I’ve ever seen anyone blush in my life. “Wow,” I say. “That’s so cool.” Pharrell’s “Happy” starts playing, and they all freak out. They hurry over to the dance floor, dragging me with them, and I swing my hips while munching on my last cake pop.

  “Hey, look who it is!” a guy on stage says into the microphone. “Is that Emmy King?”

  A spotlight glides over the crowd, stopping on me. People in the crowd turn to look at me, then mutter to each other. I try to tell myself they’re all saying nice things.

  “Are all the Brightsiders here?” the guy asks. Before I can answer, he holds his hand above his eyes to shield from the light and scans the crowd. “Hey, Alfie! Ryan! Why don’t you three come up here and play us a song?”

  I start walking toward the stage, knowing that we can never resist a request to rock out. Alfie runs ahead of me, leaping onto the stage and taking the microphone. Ryan and I jump up and take our places onstage. I sit behind the drums, already feeling at home. I’m my most confident when I’m sitting at a drum set. It’s the one place where I have complete control; I know exactly what I’m doing. I know every beat I need to hit and when I need to hit it. And I’m damn good at it, too. My name may be King, but this is the only place where I actually feel like a king.

  Alfie turns around to talk to me and Ry. “‘All For You’?”

  Ryan nods, and I give them the thumbs-up.

  I hear my friends screaming our names and see famous faces scrambling for their phones to capture this surprise performance. There’s nothing like the feeling you get when people you’ve admired all your life think you’re cool. How is this my life? I’m in the sam
e room as my idols, and they think I’m cool. This is wild.

  I shrug my T-Birds jacket off and roll the sleeves of my T-shirt up higher. Chloe wolf whistles from the crowd and shouts something about my arms. Alfie glances back at me, and I give him a nod to let him know I’m ready. It’s time to go into beast mode.

  I slam my drumsticks together. “A one, a two, a one two three four!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “Hey, Em,” Alfie says to me while Ry plays his guitar solo. “Let’s do ‘ILY’ next.”

  I’m so taken aback that I almost miss a beat. “Huh? No way! It’s not ready!”

  He grins. “Sure it is.”

  My mouth goes dry. “Well, I’m not ready!”

  “Sure you are.”

  Nope. Nope, nope, nope. “But Ry doesn’t even know it.”

  That gives him pause. He goes back to the mic to end the song. And then he jumps right back over with another comeback. “Let’s do an acoustic version, then. We have enough verses and chords for that. You on the mic, me on the guitar, baby.”

  Oh lord. He called me baby. And he’s looking at me like he really believes I can do this. He doesn’t have a single doubt in his mind about me or what I can do. That reminds me of one of the rules Chloe and I created: No Doubts.

  “Yes,” I blurt out. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  He beams at me. “Wild!”

  The song fades out, and Alfie updates Ry on what we’re doing while I settle myself in front of the microphone. I spot Sal dressed as Wonder Woman in the crowd and wave. She waves back, but is clearly perplexed why I’m sitting front and center. God, I hope she doesn’t flip out. Doubts start to fill my head, but I shake them off.

  No doubts. No doubts. I want to do this. No doubts.

  I look to Alfie and nod once he’s ready with his guitar, and the moment he starts playing I feel like this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

  “This is something new we just wrote for our fans,” I say. The nerves melt away and the latest version of the lyrics pour out of me.

                          I’m going for the win, I’m going for gold …

           … I wear my heart on my sleeve ’cause I’m just that bold,

  … oh yeah, I’m here and I’m queer and I won’t slow down …

  … we’re here and we’re queer, white, black, and brown.

  The next two minutes and twenty-two seconds go by in a blur. When Alfie plucks the final string, there’s a moment of silence. My heart stops. Fuck. They hated it. I find Sal in the crowd; she’s moved right up to the front of the stage. But she’s not scowling at me. She’s smiling. And then she starts to clap. In a flash, the whole party is cheering. I hear people asking one another if that was a new single, and others saying they didn’t even know I could sing.

  I turn to Alfie, who’s clapping for me with everyone else. He winks, and I almost fall off the barstool I’m seated on. We get up and make our way off the stage so the regular band can keep playing, and Sal grabs me by the arm.

  “Emmy!” she says. “Where has that been hiding?”

  I give her a quizzical look. “Literally nowhere. I’ve been begging you to let me do a song for ages!”

  She waves it off like she doesn’t remember. “Okay, honey, we’re getting you and that song in the studio ASAP. I’ll make some calls tonight.” And then she’s gone, her phone up against her ear as she moves through the party.

  Alfie spins me around to face him and pretends to drop a microphone. “Boom!”

  I throw my arms around him and hug him close. “Thank you for believing in me.”

  He squeezes me around my waist. “Always have, always will.”

  When I find Chloe after our impromptu concert, they’ve already downed some champagne and greet me with ear-piercing screams. After congratulating me and gushing over how much they love “ILY,” Charlie walks over and they start debating over the best costumes at the party. Chloe seems determined to convince Charlie that the girl dressed as Winifred Sanderson from Hocus Pocus is the best. Charlie is on the side of the girl dressed as Ms. Marvel. I stay out of the line of fire and eat some more cake.

  The DJ plays “Disturbia” by Rihanna, and I sing along to it while I look around the party. The waiters and waitresses are painted gray, like they’ve stepped out of an old black-and-white movie. Skeletons hang from the rusted, dirty chandeliers. The walls are covered with cobwebs, fake blood, and creepy Victorian-era portraits that watch our every move. The deep red lighting is interrupted every few minutes by a subtle flash of white imitation lightning, and jack-o’-lanterns glow on all the tables.

  A werewolf on roller skates zips past me, and as I’m watching it roll through the crowd, I spot Levi and Nate, two guys from a band called Lost & Found that we opened for back when we were just starting out in LA.

  I finish my last cake pop, slip the plastic vampire teeth from my donut into my pocket, and leave Charlie and Chloe to their battle.

  “Emmy!” Nate says when he sees me. I’m secretly thrilled that he remembers me, because I had the most embarrassing crush on him when we worked together.

  “Hey, guys,” I say. “Having fun?”

  “I guess,” Levi says, shrugging. He’s been in LA a lot longer than I have, so he’s probably been to hundreds of these extravagant Hollywood parties, but I hope I’m never that obnoxiously bored by it.

  “Buy you a drink?” Nate asks.

  I smile but shake my head. “No, thanks. I’m not drinking.”

  He looks at me like I’m speaking gibberish. “But it’s a party.”

  “I noticed that,” I say, feeling self-conscious and a little irritated at his condescending tone.

  “Come on, my treat.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “The drinks are free.”

  Levi puts an arm around me, and I flinch. “Let the man get you a drink, Em. He’s just trying to be nice.”

  “I’m not drinking,” I say again, this time louder. “And it would be nice if you both respected that.”

  Ignoring me, Levi waves a waiter over and leans in. “Can you bring over another one of these?” He points to his drink, then looks at me. “And Emmy will have…?”

  They look at me, waiting for me to order a drink. So I do.

  “I’ll have a Coke,” I say. The waiter nods and walks away to get our drinks. The guys roll their eyes at each other.

  “So boring,” Nate says, removing his arm from my shoulder. “All I’ve heard about you lately is how much of a party girl you are, and you’re not even having one drink!”

  I slide my clenched fists into the pockets of my jacket, trying to channel some Danny Zuko attitude. “I guess I just realized that at some point you have to grow up and not let your life revolve around the next drink.”

  I don’t smile to lighten the blow. I don’t add the words sorry or no offense or just kidding. I don’t coat my anger with a pound of sugar like I usually would.

  Levi scoffs. “Translation: You’re no fun.”

  “Seriously, Emmy,” Nate says, giving me the side-eye. “One drink isn’t going to hurt you. Join the fun! Have a drink, then maybe we can find you a girl to make out with.”

  Levi leans in, his breath stinking of booze. “Only if we can watch, though.”

  Bile rises in my throat. “I’m sure your legions of fans would be so proud if they found out you’re trying get an underage girl drunk so you can exploit and objectify her based on her sexuality.”

  “That’s not what we were doing,” Nate says, but I can tell by the scared look in his eyes that he knows I’m right.

  Levi opens his mouth to say something but instead takes another swig of his drink. The waiter arrives with my Coke, and I take a sip.

  “Have a good night, boys,” I say before walking away with my chin held high.

  I find Ryan and Alfie sitting in a booth and join them.

  “Those guys are jerkoffs,” I say to them,
gesturing to Levi and Nate. “I can’t believe how hard I used to try to impress them.”

  Ry stares at them, nodding. “Yeah. I tried talking to them before, and they made a crack about Strange Welcome being ‘okay, for a teen band.’”

  Alfie rolls his eyes. “Dicks.”

  Ry notices my drink and nods toward it. “What are you drinking?”

  “Chill. It’s just Coke.”

  He winks at me. “Just wanna make sure you’re all good.”

  “I’m all good,” I say.

  Alfie raises his Red Bull, and we clink our drinks together.

  “Where’s your halo?” I ask him, noticing it’s not on top of his head anymore.

  He pouts. “I lost it.”

  Ryan and I laugh.

  “Well,” Ry says. “Typical.”

  Alfie smirks. I feel his foot nudging mine under the table, and I take a long gulp of Coke to cool myself down.

  “How’d you lose it?” Ry asks, oblivious to the game of footsie going on beside him.

  “Someone just yanked it off my head and ran,” he says.

  Ryan shakes his head. “It’ll be on eBay tomorrow. Alfie Jones’s Halo: five thousand dollars.”

  Alfie waves to someone on the other side of the room. “Be right back,” he says, then gets up to leave. Ryan and I watch him cross the dance floor toward a group of unbelievably tall, thin, symmetrical people.

  “Models,” Ryan says with a smirk.

  “You can join them if you want,” I joke. “I won’t be offended. Or I could be your wingwoman like I was on tour.”

  He laughs but waves a hand at me. “Nah, I’m good.” He turns toward me in the booth and leans in. “I’m actually seeing someone.”

  I push his arm. “Shut up! Who?”

  Even in the dark party glow, I can see his cheeks turning a shade darker. “You can’t tell anyone. It’s still super new, and nothing’s official, so I don’t wanna jinx it by telling everyone.”

  I put a hand on my heart. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  His gaze drops to the table, then he smiles. “It’s Will.”