“Wow,” Kai said. “So, you girls have been best friends for eight years?”
Tiernan’s neck and face muscles tightened from nervousness so that she smiled involuntarily, like a crazy person. For a few seconds nobody spoke.
“It’s kind of a long story,” Alice said.
The audience gave a collective laugh.
“Well, I think we want to hear this story, right?” Kai asked the crowd. Naturally, the crowd answered with a roaring “Yes!”
This time Tiernan knew it was her turn to reach for the mic. It didn’t matter that her stage fright made it feel like there were a million tiny knives stabbing her in the gut. She knew what she had to do, and it had to be done right here, right now, no matter how terrifying it felt.
“Freshman year, I did something . . . bad,” Tiernan began, her voice quivering. “I told a lie, and I never told them about it.” The crowd fell quiet. She could feel thousands of eyes staring up at her, waiting. “And because of it, things got all messed up between us.”
Somehow Tiernan found the nerve to look at Alice and Summer. She hadn’t brought her camera, though later she would remember these moments like a series of photographs—Alice’s and Summer’s surprise, Laura G. smiling with genuine sympathy, and the lens of the man with the handlebar mustache focused just on her. She was exposed, overexposed—spilling her guts in front of hundreds of strangers—thousands more listening at home or in their cars.
“Freshman year, I went to a different high school than Alice and Summer, so I didn’t get to see them as much as I did before, and it felt like we were starting to drift apart. Especially me, since I wasn’t around. So I decided to come home for the weekend, so we could all sleep over my house, just like we used to, just the three of us.”
Instantly Tiernan was transported back to that night. How she’d called Summer from the train station, all excited, to figure out what movie they’d rent, when Summer dropped the bomb that she’d been asked to the Winter Wonderland Dance by some meathead junior from the basketball team. She still wanted to have the sleepover, Summer assured Tiernan, only she thought they should all go to the dance first.
“What about Alice?” Tiernan had asked. “What does she want to do?”
“I haven’t told her yet,” Summer admitted. “I’m not sure how well she’ll get along with Tom’s friends, you know what I mean? And Tom’s bringing beers for us to drink in the parking lot before. Anyway, if you don’t want to go, that’s fine; I can always meet up with you guys later.”
It was a tiny thing, really. A minor little delay to their weekend of fun. But it hit Tiernan right where it hurt. She’d come all the way home to see them, and here Summer was, throwing her under the bus for some boy.
“Let me talk to Alice and call you back,” she said, as Judy pulled up in Tiernan’s dad’s old Land Rover.
The entire ride home, Tiernan only managed to give one-syllable answers to Judy’s questions, her anger over Summer’s change of plans—over being interrogated by her mother, over everything—building by the second. What was so wrong with her that made everybody want to leave? What had she done that was so awful?
When she got home, Tiernan stormed down to the basement without another word to Judy and called Alice from her cell.
“We can stop by the dance for a while, can’t we?” Alice asked meekly.
Tiernan couldn’t believe it. She’d thought Alice, of all people, would be on her side.
“Why would I want to go to some lame-ass Snowball Dance?” Tiernan hissed. “I don’t even go to WHS.”
“First of all, it’s called the Winter Wonderland Dance,” Alice corrected. “And second, it’s just a dance. Who cares whether or not you go to school here?”
Tiernan knew that Alice didn’t mean it the way it sounded, but still. Who cares? The words had a ring that seemed to resonate through Tiernan’s entire body.
“Don’t you know what Summer is doing?” Tiernan spat. The words seemed to fly out from someplace dark, perfectly aimed at Alice’s heart.
“She doesn’t really want us to go, Alice. She thinks we’ll embarrass her. Plus, she basically told me her new friends don’t like you anyway.”
Tiernan could actually feel the sting of Alice’s hurt on the other end of the line, as if the phone’s fiber optics could silently transmit another person’s pain.
Sadly, the audience in Houston was not so silent. Some people in the crowd actually hissed and booed. Not that Tiernan didn’t deserve it.
“I made it up because I was jealous.” Tiernan wiped a tear with the back of her hand and looked at Summer. “I was jealous that you two got to go to school together while I was off by myself, missing everything. I was jealous that every time I talked to Alice, all she could talk about was what you were doing, and how you were making other friends. Like you were the only one who mattered. Like I didn’t matter at all.”
Tiernan looked to Alice next. “And I lied to you, Alice, because I wanted you to be as angry at Summer as I was. But then, when you were, I felt so guilty that I could barely talk to you. I didn’t want to answer your calls.”
Tiernan could still remember that ugly night in perfect detail—chasing Alice through the halls of Walford High, like she was actually trying to stop her instead of just fanning the flames of the fire she’d started. Hell, she’d brought the kindling and the lighter fluid, too. By the time they made it to the cafeteria, Alice was moving so fast, the giant paper snowflakes that hung from the ceiling swayed in her breeze.
Tiernan could have still stopped it then, that moment before Alice found Summer in the crowd, her eyes narrowing like a cat’s when it sees a bird. Summer didn’t even see them coming, sitting on a windowsill next to Tom and his friends and laughing—not even dancing, Tiernan had noted—even though Level3 was on.
It was our heyday, hey day, hey . . .
“Sorry to interrupt your little date,” Alice began. The match to the wood.
The microphone crackled, snapping Tiernan back to the present. “Alice, that night . . . I just made up all that crap Summer said about you because I was afraid . . .” She looked down at the dusty stage floor. “I was afraid you liked her better than me. That you’d always liked her better than me.” If this was the mud her mother was talking about slogging through, Tiernan was up to her neck in it now.
“I know I acted like it didn’t bother me that the three of us were drifting apart.” Tiernan brought her gaze back to Alice and Summer, relieved to see tears welling in their eyes. “But I did care . . . I do care.”
For a moment they all just stared at one another.
“Hey, kids, I don’t want to interrupt your tender reconciliation . . .” Kai’s voice broke the silence. “. . . but we’re a bit short on time.”
The audience laughed. Tiernan laughed with them.
“Sorry.”
“Well, on that note,” Laura G. jumped in. “You girls ready to dance, or what?”
“ENCORE”
CALL ME OUT, AGAIN
AND I’LL PLAY YOUR FAVORITE SONG
IT’S NOT MUCH TO REPEAT
OUR GREATEST HITS,
IF YOU’RE SINGING ALONG
SO WHY DID I PRETEND
I WAS DONE WITH THE SHOW?
AND THEY’RE CALLING ME OUT AGAIN
BRAVO, BRAVO, BRAVO, BRAVO.
—from Level3’s third CD, Natural Causes
Chapter Twenty-Two
SUMMER GOT INTO POSITION, STILL DIZZY FROM TIERNAN’S confession. Hands on hips. Chin over right shoulder. There was so much she needed to process, so many story lines to rearrange in her head. But there wasn’t time for that now.
The song kicked in and off she went—marching forward eight beats, heads up, gaze straight ahead, the feeling of someone shuffling a deck of cards inside her chest. The opening of “Parade” was all percussion, an actual recording of the marching band at Travis, Luke, and Ryan’s old high school. Summer had spent the last four years listening to drums like these
from the bleachers of the Walford High football field as they inspired the team to victory. This time, it was her turn.
Stomp, hip swivel, jump left, jump right, stomp. The steps were so deeply etched in her subconscious that they seemed to come without memory.
DON’T TELL ME I’M GONNA BE LATE
YOUR P-P-PARADE WILL JUST HAVE TO WAIT,
OR MAYBE IT WON’T, BUT I’M STILL GONNA BE THERE
RIGHT ON TIME . . .
Summer twirled just as the zap of the electric guitar broke through the steady drumbeat, like that first frenzied breath after surfacing from underwater. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alice’s ponytail slip from its holder, her mane of tangled hair flying in all directions.
At least now she knew. Not that Summer was ready to instantly forgive Alice and Tiernan, but she was ready to let it go. She needed to let it go. How many times had she relived that awful night in her mind, repeating all of the vile things Alice had said until she’d actually started believing them?
Summer’s eyes brushed past Tiernan’s, and the three of them moved seamlessly into the Britney Spears hip-grind stomp, like three sexy babies throwing tantrums. As mad as she was, Summer always loved watching Tiernan do this part—the way she could come off as strong, fearless, and sultry in equal measure. Fricking Tiernan. How was it possible that a girl with so much confidence could actually be jealous of her? Or was her confidence just an act? And if so, why had Summer bought into it—even envied Tiernan for it?
UP AHEAD, THE BAND PLAYS THE FIGHT SONG,
BEHIND US, THE BEAUTY QUEEN SMILES
AND WE’RE WALKING HERE TOGETHER
WE’VE BEEN WALKING HERE FOR MILES . . .
They were almost at the part where Summer always blew it. She’d make the mistake of following Alice, who’d inevitably start with her right foot instead of her left, and then Summer’s whole series of knee-lifts would be off. But today Summer wasn’t following anyone’s lead. Today the music was her only guide.
. . . BUT IN THIS PARADE
I’M GONNA MARCH TO MY OWN TIME . . .
Without even thinking about the steps, Summer nailed them. She felt like that girl back at the bonfire in West Virginia. Dancing only for herself. Maybe that was the key to staying together—letting Alice and Tiernan make their own mistakes and just dance her own part of the dance as well as she could.
After all, the only person Summer was in charge of was herself. She couldn’t control what Alice and Tiernan did onstage (or off it, for that matter). But what she could do was make a choice. She could let anger take the lead—just like she’d always done. Or she could choose to let it go.
Letting go. Maybe that’s all forgiveness really was.
Summer marched in place as the routine circled back to where it had started—three girls in a row, arms raised in triumph, eyes straight ahead. She stayed like that as the melody faded and the drums came back in again, letting the applause rush over her while rivers of sweat collected in the corners of her mouth.
“Holy dance routines, Batman! Those girls know how to boogie,” Laura G.’s voice boomed. The crowd responded with the appropriate whistles and catcalls.
Summer dropped her arms and looked over at her dance partners. Alice was all dimples and teeth. Tiernan’s eyes sparkled—half joy, half tears. Summer had so much to be angry at them for, so many questions left unanswered, but all she wanted was to enjoy the moment. The funny thing was, the choice didn’t belong to anyone but herself.
Summer smiled wide as applause thundered all around her. Not that she needed the affirmation. The feeling of victory was already shining inside of her, and it felt like freedom, right here on the Freedom Stage.
“So, how long have you girls been rehearsing this number?” Kai asked.
This time Summer reached for the microphone. “We haven’t practiced all together for a while.” Her breath came hard. “But it was easy. We knew it all by heart.”
She stole a glance at Alice and Tiernan, and they looked back at her, their eyes shining. For someone who loved the English language as much Summer, she realized that some of her favorite moments in life came when words were superfluous. The silent exchanges, those were the real-life poetry.
“My producer has just handed me the tabulated scores,” Kai announced. “And it appears as if we have a tie.” Kai paused to create suspense. “Geoff Newman, could you come out here, please?”
A droopy-faced man walked onstage holding a clarinet. It took Summer a second to recognize him as the same guy who’d played that great instrumental version of “Snow Cone.”
“Geoff, Pea Pod Experience”—Kai said their name with a heavy dose of sarcasm—“one of you will be going to Level3 tonight!”
The audience screamed and cheered. Alice grasped Summer’s hand and squeezed it hard. “And we’ll find out who right after this break.”
The radio station sound effects blared out of the speakers, and Summer could feel the floorboards trembling under her feet. Or maybe she was the one trembling. But before she could figure it out, the microphone boy was herding them offstage to a holding area in the wings.
Summer practically dove into the cooler of complimentary energy drinks. Not that an overcaffeinated soda was likely to help with her shaking. Tiernan chugged hers down in one gulp. Alice sipped from one drink while holding another ice-cold can against the back of her neck. For a long time, no one said a word. There was so much to say, it was hard to know where to begin.
“So, what do you think they’ll have us do?” Alice asked, breaking their silence. “You know, for the final showdown.”
It hadn’t occurred to Summer that they might actually have to do something else. What did they have left?
“It doesn’t matter,” Summer whispered. “We’re going to win this thing.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Tiernan nodded. “It’s beshert.”
Alice smiled. “I thought you guys didn’t believe in fate anymore.”
“Things happen for a reason,” Summer said. “And maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with this contest or even with Level3. . . Maybe it’s just about the three of us, being here, together, and finally, you know, having things out.”
Alice’s eyes locked on Summer. Tiernan fiddled with the metal tab on her can.
“I’m not saying that I’m over it,” Summer added quickly. “What you guys did to me was awful. You don’t know what it’s like to feel publicly humiliated like that.”
“I’m sorry.” Alice’s eyes welled with tears. “I know it was wrong. But when Tiernan told me how you said I embarrassed you—”
“Which was a lie,” Tiernan cut in.
“An exaggeration,” Summer corrected, surprising herself with her own admission.
Alice wiped her eyes. “Even if it wasn’t exactly the truth, it felt like it was . . . like you were abandoning me for all of your new ‘popular’ friends, who didn’t like me and Tiernan. Like suddenly Tiernan and I weren’t good enough for you anymore.”
Summer always assumed Alice didn’t care what people thought of her. That she didn’t have the same insecurities regular people did. Just another fiction she’d convinced herself was true.
“The three of us were best friends since the fourth grade. Did you think I just turned into some cold, heartless jerk?”
Summer went on. “I know part of it was my fault. I did blow you guys off for my new friends freshman year. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But all I wanted was a little space to do my own thing, for once in my life. You guys were always doing exciting stuff like going off to summer camp or jetting off to New York City to go shopping for the weekend. You always had so many opinions about things. Sometimes stuff I’d never even heard about. But all I had was you.” Summer could feel her anger rising up again. “And I didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”
It would be so easy to just let the angry feelings take over again, whereas letting go felt like a constant effort. More proof that doing the right thing isn’t alwa
ys necessarily the easiest path.
“I know.” Alice nodded guiltily. “You didn’t deserve it.”
“You were hurt, and you lashed out,” Summer said. “But a lot of what you said was true. Just like it was true about Jace.”
Alice shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you like that—”
“Don’t be sorry.” Summer cut her off. “You told me. That’s the main thing.”
“Well, whatever either of you did or didn’t do, I think we can all agree that I’m the real a-hole here,” Tiernan said.
“That’s true.” Summer smirked. Then she gave Tiernan a playful elbow to the gut. “Come on, that was a joke.”
Tiernan forced a smile.
“What I’m trying to say is . . .” Summer took a deep breath. “No single one of us is completely innocent for what happened. And no one is completely to blame.”
“So, we all suck?” Tiernan asked.
“I think we’ve all been hurt.” Summer swallowed the rest of her drink as if washing down her words. “And I think it would probably take the rest of our lives to figure out all of the messed-up reasons we did what we did.”
Summer shivered from the chill of the ice-cold liquid in her stomach. It felt surreal admitting these things out loud. To be here, in Houston, Texas, rehashing the past with her ex-best friends, who, as it turned out, still happened to be two of the people who knew her the best—Alice, all wide-eyed and eager; Tiernan, who looked so uncomfortable talking about “feelings,” she probably would have jumped into her soda can if she fit.
They were both so different from her. And yet, Summer had spent the last four years hanging out with people who all looked alike and dressed alike and acted alike. But the only thing her Walford friends really seemed to have in common was the fact they were too afraid to actually be themselves.
“As mad as I am at you,” Summer said to Tiernan, “and I am still mad at you, I think it was very brave doing what you did out there.”
“Psh.” Tiernan shook her head. “I had to stop being a wuss sometime, didn’t I?” She lifted her soda and took a large swig. “Just don’t tell my mom about it, or she might think I’ve actually learned some kind of ‘lesson.’”
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