by Jen Calonita
“Thanks.” Lidia blushed. “I really liked the classes.” “Liked” wasn’t the word for it. Dancing had made her summer. She loved how it felt to master a tricky routine or go across the floor practicing leaps and turns. She got goose bumps when she watched her class perform numbers in the mirror. She found herself doing choreography to songs in her head all the time now.
“What would you say to auditioning for the senior competition team?” Miss Pattie Ann asked her as she stretched her arms into a graceful arch over the barre.
“Audition?” Lidia’s heart stopped. “I thought you had to be a junior to try out for the team.”
“Normally, yes, but we had more seniors on last year’s team than usual, so more slots have opened up.” She looked at Lidia. “I think you could fill one of them, if you’re interested.”
It took all her willpower not to scream “YES!” “How do I try out?”
“You’d come in during tryouts this weekend and learn a routine with others auditioning. Then you’d each get a chance to perform in front of me and some of the other teachers next week. We’ll be announcing new team members the following week. It would all happen quickly.”
“I’d love to be considered,” Lidia said. It would be too much to throw her arms around Miss Pattie Ann and squeal, but that’s what she wanted to do.
“Wonderful!” Miss Pattie Ann grinned. “I know this is a bit premature, but if you make the team, you’ll dive into practices. Usually, competition classes are five days a week, several classes a day. Getting ready for competition season takes a lot of work. Think you could handle that?”
Lidia’s heart sank. How would she fit in all those classes with Nightingales practices too? There was no way she could pull off both. She’d have to choose: Nightingales or dance, and she’d already committed to the Nightingales. If she left them flat, and they had enough girls for a team, her captain spot would need to be replaced. Lidia could just see Whitney and Micayla trying to oust Sydney so they could step in. Lidia could also imagine her own family’s reaction. Grandma Evie was so proud of Lidia being a Nightingale like Lidia’s mom had been before her. What would they say when she told them she’d given it up? Her heart started to thump in time with the music in another room. There was no logical way to make this all work, and yet Lidia could not handle turning down the opportunity. Her head was stubbornly telling her not to. In fact, it was singing lines from Hamilton.
I’m not throwing away my shot!
Alexander Hamilton had the right idea. She’d figure out the logistics if and when she actually made the team.
Lidia pointed and flexed her foot inside her street shoes. “I know I can handle it.”
She hoped she was right.
The Nightingales team—or lack of—hadn’t even been decided yet, but somehow Sydney already had practice with Griffin for the Naples Music Festival.
Standing outside one of the Bradley music rooms that students could reserve for individual practices, Sydney stalled. She could hear Griffin playing the piano, but couldn’t get herself to open the door. She’d put her hand on the knob, then turn and walk away. Attempt to open the door, then run down the hall. They only had the room for a half hour and she’d already wasted ten minutes. Maybe that was a good thing. She wasn’t sure she could handle all that alone time with Griffin. Her head knew this was a bad idea, but her heart kept singing, I kissed Griffin Mancini and I liked it.
One week ago, Lidia had threatened the existence of the Nightingales with her very public—and embarrassing—outburst. Since then, they still hadn’t spoken or gotten together to see if they had enough girls to put together a team. Meanwhile, the Kingfishers team had been announced and they’d already started practicing. Sydney’s a cappella career was in the toilet.
Sydney placed her hand on the doorknob again. She felt herself get yanked forward along with the door.
“Oh, it’s you.” Dave, the Kingfishers’ co-captain, looked less than thrilled to see Sydney in the now-open doorway. “You owe me one hundred and fifty dollars for the pizzas you ruined plus money for an allergy shot.”
“Dave,” Griffin warned. He was seated at the piano.
“Well, she does! She knows what she did,” Dave grumbled.
Sydney gave her best innocent expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why do I owe you money? Are you doing a fund-raiser?”
“Oh, you know,” Dave said, his frown deepening so much it gave him wrinkles. “Delivering a sunflower bouquet to our first practice? Everyone knows sunflowers make me sneeze for hours. And don’t get me started on the pizzas. You ruined eight pies!”
Sydney side-eyed Griffin. “Still no clue what you’re talking about.”
Dave mumbled something under his breath and stormed off. Sydney knew she would pay for the flowers and pizza pranks, but at the moment she wasn’t even sure she had a team. How could the Kingfishers really get her back?
“Ready to make music together?” Griffin asked.
Sydney’s heart was going to need paddles to survive this practice.
She turned back to the door. “I just came by to tell you that I have to go home and study or I’m going to tank tomorrow’s math test.”
Griffin hit a wrong note on the piano. He looked too cute to stare at for too long. He’d removed his blazer and tie and his button-down blue shirt was open to reveal a beachy graphic tee underneath. “Don’t you have a meeting with Mr. Wickey after this?”
“Yes!” Sydney realized, turning away again. “I really should be waiting outside his door.”
“You have time. He’s at a faculty meeting.” Griffin started playing again. “He won’t be back for a while, so you might as well practice with me first.” Sydney opened her mouth to protest. “Or we could study for your math test. In addition to being the best singer at this school—” She cleared her throat. “Tied for being the best singer at this school,” he corrected, “I am a math god. We can practice for the festival and I’ll help you study before Mr. Wickey returns.” He slid over on the piano bench. “What do you have to lose?”
Lidia? Sydney thought.
The melody Griffin was playing was pretty. “Come on. If you’re nice, I’ll even share my peanut-butter-and-Nutella sandwich with you.”
Griffin had made her one over the summer at play practice. No one could understand how they’d both liked the combo. They agreed it was like eating a peanut butter cup on bread.
“Or we could go out to eat sometime.” He looked at her seriously. “I think we’d have fun.”
She knew they would. They had more in common than she could have imagined. But she couldn’t do that to Lidia. She was going to burst into flames for wanting a boy she knew she couldn’t have. Sydney didn’t know what to do. She was so tempted—to sing with him, sit on the piano bench next to him, and go out to dinner with him.
Griffin stopped playing. “Does you acting funny have anything to do with Lidia?”
Sydney felt her heart stop. “What?”
“I heard some things about you and me and Lidia,” he said awkwardly. His cheeks were turning pink. “I didn’t know she … I hope you guys are okay, is all I’m saying.”
“I think she is,” Sydney said, her cheeks growing warm too. “Anyway, what happened isn’t your fault, it’s mine.”
“What do you mean?” Griffin asked.
“Never mind,” Sydney said quickly. She didn’t want to get into this with him.
“Maybe we should start singing. Why don’t we warm up with one of your favorite tunes?” Griffin started to play again. Sydney recognized the song right away. She sat down next to him. Wordlessly, he handed her the song music. He was playing “Seasons of Love” from Rent. As Griffin played, Sydney let herself get lost in the music. On cue, he started to sing.
“Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes.”
Even as Griffin played, his eyes never left Sydney’s face. It was the first time they had sung this song together and yet Sydn
ey could feel the music in every inch of her body. When a song felt right, it felt right. Sydney couldn’t imagine singing this with anyone other than him. They had great harmony, and Sydney had a feeling it wasn’t just in song.
“Seasons of love,” they both sang, smiling.
As Griffin played the last notes, their faces inched closer. They held the last note as long as possible. The music stopped, but neither of them moved. He’s going to kiss me again, she thought. This time, she wanted him to. Badly. But she knew it was wrong so she turned away.
“Griffin, I …”
The door to the room opened and Lidia stuck her head in. When she saw the two of them together, her face fell.
Sydney was in major treble. Trouble!
Well, technically it was treble trouble.
“Oh. I—sorry!” Lidia shut the door.
Sydney jumped up, her heart pumping wildly. She’d done nothing wrong this time, but she’d thought about it. “I should go.”
Griffin seemed to get it. “I know.”
“Sorry,” Sydney said and Griffin nodded. “Rain check?”
In more ways than one?
Sydney rushed down the hall after Lidia. What was going on between them wasn’t right. She was a fixer. She had to fix things. “Sorry about that,” she said, rushing to walk next to her. “We were just practicing for the music festival.”
“Good for you.” Lidia looked straight ahead, her ponytail swishing wildly as she headed to Mr. Wickey’s office.
Weird. Lidia only wore her hair in a ponytail on dance class days, but Sydney could have sworn Lidia had said she was going to take class on Mondays. Today was Thursday.
“Were you looking for me?” Sydney asked hopefully. “We should probably talk about auditions before we meet with Mr. Wickey, right?”
Lidia hesitated. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She threw her hands up. “If you wanted to talk, why didn’t you come looking for me before now?”
“I thought you needed space.” Sydney gaped. “Was I wrong?”
Lidia narrowed her eyes. “No, but shouldn’t you be trying to make things right?”
“I am! I mean, I want to, but you’ve been so mad I don’t know how to act,” Sydney admitted. “I also thought my best friend would have talked to me in private instead of airing what’s going on between us to the entire a cappella community.”
“What choice did you give me?” Lidia complained.
“I know.” Sydney stared at her glittery Tom’s slip-ons (a girl with a uniform had to add bling where she could). They were yelling at each other again.
The last time Lidia had been this upset with her was the Snow Ball in eighth grade. Sydney had found a pale-blue dress with a sparkly silver hem online and knew it was the one. The price tag said otherwise, and she refused to ask her dad to drop that kind of money on a dress she’d only wear once. She stuck it in her online shopping cart anyway and forgot about it. Then her mom had ordered it without Syd even asking. Her mom rarely did stuff like that, so the dress took on a whole new level of meaning.
When Lidia had shown Sydney the exact same dress hanging in her closet and said she was planning on wearing it to the dance, the two had fought. Sydney talked about it meaning so much because it came from her mom, and Lidia went on and on about how this was her chance to get noticed by Griffin. They had both stormed off without deciding who was going to wear the dress.
Two days later, Lidia had texted: The dress was meant to be worn by you. It told me so. Blue is more your color anyway.
That was Lidia. Always the bigger person. And what did she get in return? A best friend who kissed the love of her life. Oh, Lidia … I am the worst, Sydney thought. “I hate fighting with you,” Sydney whispered.
Lidia sighed. “I hate fighting with you too.” Sydney looked up hopefully. “But I don’t know how to get past what you did. Even if it wasn’t your fault, you let it happen and then you hid it from me. How did you think I’d react?”
“I’m so sor—” Sydney started to apologize when Mr. Wickey’s door opened.
“Oh good, you’re both here!” Mr. Wickey said. “Do you want to come in?”
Her chance to get through to Lidia was gone. Reluctantly, she grabbed her things and followed Lidia into the office. His room was basically an oversized closet with just enough space for a desk, a guitar, and a bookcase overflowing with songbooks and pictures of him and his wife.
Sydney looked straight at the photographs to avoid eye contact with Lidia. She was afraid if she looked at her, she’d burst into tears. She placed one hand on her crossed knee to keep her legs from bouncing. Her mind kept trying to reboot, but all she could think about was their fight. She and Lidia had never argued like this before.
Mr. Wickey squeezed himself behind his messy desk and took a seat. “I wanted to talk to you two about auditions. I was pretty disappointed in how things went.”
Both girls looked down.
“When you two were named co-captains, I was sure the Nightingales were going to make a comeback, but you two haven’t even gotten together to pick a team.”
“I’m sorry,” Lidia said, surprising Sydney. “I shouldn’t have walked out and left you and Sydney to handle the auditions. It wasn’t fair to the group.”
“But in the end, it worked out,” Sydney offered, hoping it helped. “We finished auditions and I found a great alto for the group. Julianna Ramirez.” It was Lidia’s turn to look intrigued.
Mr. Wickey nodded. “Julianna sang for me this week and I agree she’d be a great addition to the group.” He slid the audition sign-up sheet over to the girls. “You don’t have a huge pool to pick from. I’m told a lot of girls were turned off by the fighting the two of you have been doing.” Both girls starting talking at once. “But I’m hopeful you can put that all aside for the sake of the group you wanted to run.”
“Yes,” Lidia and Sydney agreed quietly.
“The Kingfishers have already made, and notified, all of their picks and held their first practice,” he added, “so I was hoping you two could pick your team members this afternoon so you can move forward. Headmistress Sato is anxious to see the Nightingales practicing. She’s a huge fan, as you know.” Mr. Wickey tried unsuccessfully not to smirk.
“Oh, I know,” Lidia said.
Mr. Wickey gave them a look. “Although I heard not much got done at the boys’ first practice because they had so many distractions.”
Sydney didn’t even blink an eye.
Mr. Wickey leaned over his notes. “Anyway, the Nightingales need to start practicing too if they want to be ready for the Turn It Up competition in November. Have you two discussed your choices yet?”
“No,” both girls said.
“You need ten to twelve girls to compete in the competitions we chose for the year and you have … fifteen girls to pick from.”
Both girls looked over the sign-up sheet. Sydney and Lidia were two picks, which meant they needed at least eight of the fifteen girls they’d seen. Micayla and Whitney, as much as Sydney couldn’t stand them, were musts, as were Gabby and Viola, who were good as well. Julianna was a shoo-in, but that still meant they needed at least three girls. And Sydney didn’t like any of her choices.
“Sydney?” Mr. Wickey asked. “What are you thinking?”
“Whitney, Micayla, Gabby, and Viola for sure,” she said.
“Lidia?” Mr. Wickey asked.
“I agree,” she said.
Whew!
“And I’d like to nominate Julianna because she’s unbelievably talented,” Sydney said.
“I didn’t hear her sing,” Lidia pointed out.
“I’m vouching for her, and Mr. Wickey heard her too,” Sydney said. “That should be enough.”
Lidia’s face changed. “Well, it’s not enough. I have to hear her too. Or you need to give me Donna.”
“Puppet Girl?” Sydney scoffed. “Never.”
“Then no Julianna.” Lidia sounded snippy, which wasn’t her style. Lidia
usually trusted Sydney’s judgment.
“Julianna is talented,” Sydney pointed out.
“So is Donna,” Lidia insisted.
Mr. Wickey’s chair squeaked. Both girls looked at him. “Ladies, this is ridiculous. Why can’t you have both girls? You still need four slots filled.”
“One should go to Mercedes too,” Lidia said. “She’s loud, but that can be worked on.”
“She just yells,” Sydney disagreed.
“Do you have a better idea?” Lidia asked. “Do you want the girl who did the ‘Cups’ song?”
“No.” Sydney sank lower in her chair.
“Then we don’t have enough girls,” Lidia snapped.
“Whose fault is that?” Sydney countered. “You scared them all away.”
“That’s your fault! If you hadn’t done what you did to me, I wouldn’t have been mad.”
“You have a right to be mad, but you don’t have a right to ruin the Nightingales because of it! It’s like you’re trying to sabotage the group!”
The room was silent.
Maybe Sydney had gone too far.
Mr. Wickey cleared his throat. “When you two lobbied me last spring to become the youngest co-captains of this team, I remember thinking, ‘They’re too young. We should go with Micayla and Whitney, who will be a year older.’ But you two convinced me.” He laughed. “You had a clear vision for the Nightingales that was so impressive I couldn’t say no. You continued to prove yourselves all summer with emails and song arrangements.”
Sydney beamed. That was all her.
“Now it’s the second week of school and you two are arguing at auditions, accusing each other of sabotaging the group, and disagreeing on team picks.” Mr. Wickey cocked his head. “This does not sound like the girls I chose to be captains.”
Sydney watched Lidia scratch her right eyebrow. Whenever Lidia was stressed, she adopted this quirky habit. “We’re sorry,” Sydney said. “Things have changed since the summer. It’s … complicated.”
How had things between her and Lidia gotten this bad? Best friends fought sometimes, but they made up eventually. Maybe Lidia didn’t want to forgive her right now, but she couldn’t stay mad at her forever.