Take a Bow

  We all agree. Plus, being loud always helps me with any nerves I have onstage. Churning out big power chords fast has a calming effect on me. I’m probably the only person who finds performing punk music therapeutic.

  “Why don’t we put a punk spin on whatever song we choose?” I say.

  “That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack agrees.

  We throw out names of the eighties’ musical icons: Madonna, Prince, Bruce Springsteen, The Police, and so on. Until we settle on the biggest of them all.

  Michael Jackson.

  Ben hits his hand against the table. “I’ve got it. ‘Beat It.’ It’s got the sick guitar lick and solo. Ethan, I know you can take it to the next level. Plus, Jack can hash out an intense beat on the drum, and Emme and I will keep up just fine.”

  It’s unanimous. I pull out The Calendar and start to figure out practice times.

  “Man, I’m excited about this.” Jack is already tapping out a beat with his fingers. “I want to start working on it ASAP. What’s everybody’s week like? If we get even a basic idea down, maybe we can do a rough version at our gig on Friday night?”

  “I’m free,” Ben offers.

  “Me, too,” Ethan says with his eyes closed. I know he’s figuring out his part in his head.

  “Yeah. Me, too, except for Wednesday.”

  All three of them look at me. “What’s Wednesday?” Jack’s got one eyebrow raised.

  “I have plans.”

  Jack scoffs. “Plans? With who?”

  “Am I not allowed to have plans that don’t involve you guys?”

  “No,” they say in unison.

  “Whatever.”

  Jack, never one to let things go, prods on. “Sophie? Carter?”

  “No, I … Okay, I’ll tell you, but please don’t make a big deal about it.”

  Jack gasps. “Emme Connelly, do you have a date?”

  “Oh, just forget it.”

  “We certainly will not forget it.”

  “Fine, I’m going to dinner with Tyler. Happy?”

  Jack shakes his head. “Nicely done, Red.”

  I pull out The Calendar to write up our practice schedule until the concert in three weeks. Ben spends the rest of the class grilling me on my date, with Jack making disparaging comments. And Ethan keeps his eyes closed for the rest of the time.

  At least one of them respects what little privacy I have.

  Over the past three years, I’ve had to audition seven times to be a student at CPA, I’ve performed countless times as part of an assignment or with the band, and now I’m singing on an album that will serve as my senior thesis … not to mention part of my application to the top music school in the country.

  However, I don’t think anything has made me as nervous as walking into the bistro where I’m meeting Tyler.

  He stands up from the table where he’s waiting for me. His wavy brown hair is just slightly shorter than Ethan’s and he’s sporting just the right amount of stubble. He’s got his normal outfit of dark jeans with a button-down shirt — this time it’s white with thin black stripes.

  He greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a hug.

  “You look beautiful,” he says.

  I smile at him as I put my shaking hands in my lap. Sophie was busy, so Ben came over and helped me pick out my outfit: black leggings with a long, gray sweater, and black riding boots. He said I looked classic, yet contemporary.

  We make small talk about class and music assignments. Tyler is applying to most of the same schools as Ethan and I.

  “I submitted my application to Juilliard yesterday,” he says as our pasta entrées arrive. “I thought I was going to throw up.”

  “Me, too,” I confide. “I stood there in front of the mailbox for what seemed like an eternity. Ethan had to pry the envelope out of my hand.”

  “Oh.” Tyler picks at his fettuccini. “I guess I should have assumed that he’s applying as well. Not like he needs Juilliard. You know, I thought you guys were a couple for the longest time. He’s always around you.”

  This isn’t the first time that somebody thought this about us. But he’s pretty shy when he’s not onstage, so he only really talks to me and the other members of the band. Nobody ever seems to think he’s with Ben, though. Which always irritates Ben. I smile as I think of Ben saying “What? Like I couldn’t get you if I really tried?”

  “What’s so funny?” Tyler asks.

  “Oh, just thinking of something. Anyway, Ethan’s one of my closest friends. All the guys in the band are.”

  Tyler nods knowingly. “I wish I could say the same for the rest of the piano section. But there’s usually only a need for one pianist. Not a way to make good friends.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  Tyler lets out a laugh. “Yeah, it isn’t pretty. Although I think the vocal department is worse. I accompany Sarah Moffitt a lot, so I’ve heard some interesting stories.”

  I nod since I’ve heard a lot of stories, many of them about Sarah, from Sophie. I realize every day how lucky I am to be in my department. Sure, we compete for songs against each other, but there’s never been any sabotage … at least that I’m aware of.

  “So what are you auditioning with?” I decide to change the subject away from the vocal department.

  Tyler begins to enthusiastically go over his audition pieces. We don’t discuss CPA for the rest of the meal.

  As he walks me to the subway, he holds my hand. We walk slowly for several blocks, and as we approach the entrance, butterflies start swirling in my stomach.

  “Are you going to be okay getting home?” He steps out of the way of pedestrians coming from an arriving train.

  I nod my head. “Yes. Thanks for dinner.”

  He takes a step toward me and cups his hand around my chin. He leans in and kisses me gently. “Call me when you get home.”

  Since I’ve apparently become mute, I nod again.

  I practically float through the turnstile and back to Brooklyn.

  We decide to run through “Beat It” during our sound check on Friday night. We’re the second of three acts performing at the Ravine, a new concert venue in the Village. It’s the biggest place we’ve played, the stage is a lot bigger than we’re used to … and higher up.

  “No stage diving, Red,” Jack says as he looks down at the five feet that separate the stage and the floor. We’re used to being on a small riser.

  Ethan keeps going over his guitar solo. His fingers are moving so fast, I don’t think any of us will be able to keep up with him.

  “You know,” Ben says once Ethan stops, “I don’t think we should play it tonight. It’s not that I don’t think we could do a good job or anything, but I’d rather keep what we’re doing a surprise until the alumni concert.”

  “Good point,” Jack agrees. “Best to floor everybody then.” He rearranges the set list a few more times before it’s done. Since there’ll be more people here — most likely for the headlining band — we’re starting off with a few covers to warm up the crowd before we do our original songs.

  We head back to our dressing room. Everybody starts with their pre-concert rituals. Jack and Ben play video games and fake argue with each other. I do homework (I’m so hardcore!) and Ethan paces around.

  A cheer erupts from Ben as Jack throws down his controller. “Oh, I didn’t realize we could cheat,” Jack says drily.

  Ben gets up and does a small dance. “You’re such a sore loser.”

  Jack crosses his arms and pulls his bottom lip out.

  Ben turns his back on him. “Emme, Ethan, I’m going to check out the first band; you guys want to join?” He then looks over at Jack. “You are of course welcome, Sir Pouts-a-Lot.”

  Ben heads out of the dressing room, and the three of us follow him. As soon as we exit the room, we see Chloe approaching us with Carter … and Tyler.

  “Where are you guys off to?” Chloe goes over to Jack and gives him a hug. His pout evaporates and he wraps his arms arou
nd her. Ah, young love. “We wanted to wish you good luck!”

  Tyler comes up to me and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. “I brought these for you.” Behind his back is a bouquet of roses.

  “Thanks,” I say quietly.

  Jack starts to say something, but Chloe hits him. “Um, yeah, anyway …” Jack motions toward the side of the stage. “We were going to check out the City Kings, and um …” Jack can’t stop looking between Tyler and me. I feel the entire group’s eyes are on us and I don’t know what to do.

  I grab Carter’s arm and lead him to the side of the stage, just as a group made of students from the LaGuardia school start their set.

  “How are things?” I shout above the loud guitars blaring through the room.

  He smiles at me. “Good. I’ll be soap-free by spring!” Carter fills me in on his progress of moving away from acting. He’s even looking into private art lessons.

  “That’s fantastic.” A ballad starts playing and Tyler comes over, wrapping his arms around my waist. As if I wasn’t nervous enough before facing a packed crowd of five hundred people.

  We all stand there and watch the band. I can’t really concentrate on the music — my entire focus is on Tyler’s hands and his breath hitting my neck. Jack nudges me a few times playfully, but I try to stare out at the stage and look like I’m not freaking out inside.

  The City Kings finish their set and we head to our dressing room.

  “I’ve never seen a show from the side before,” Chloe says. “That was cool.”

  Jack puts his arm around her. “You can see our shows from anywhere you want. I know I don’t have a bad angle.”

  The stage manager pops his head in the door and yells “Five minutes!”

  “Yikes, we better get going.” Chloe gives Jack a quick kiss.

  “Yeah, break a leg.” Tyler gives me a quick kiss as well.

  Before the door even closes, Jack starts in on me. “Ooh, Red! You’ve finally snagged a groupie. My little girl’s all growns up!”

  “Ah, guys,” Ben interrupts us. “Do you know where Ethan is?”

  I didn’t even realize he wasn’t there. It’s not like the room is that big. “Where did he —”

  Ben opens the door and looks down the hallway. “He left right when the band started — I thought he was going back here. Maybe he’s just getting some fresh air or running around.”

  Ben and I head in opposite directions and I see Ethan talking to one of the members of the headlining band, Prophecy’s Cupid, an honest-to-goodness signed band.

  “Hey, we’re on soon!” I call out.

  Ethan turns his head toward me and I immediately smell alcohol on him. He hasn’t had a drink before a show since The Incident. He used to have a drink to loosen up his nerves, and I guess none of us ever said anything to him because we knew how nervous he was about being the front man. But then he started to have a couple more drinks that led to more Ethan drama, including his subsequent meltdown over Kelsey. I thought he was better, but he’s not. He’s wasted. He must’ve been doing shots or something to get this drunk this quickly.

  “Awesome.” He barely looks at me. “Thanks, man.” He shakes hands with the lead singer.

  “Are you okay?”

  He stumbles slightly. “Yep, everything’s great, Emme. No need to worry about me. Thanks so much for your concern, though.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He doesn’t bother to answer me as he heads to the side of the stage.

  “There you are!” Jack screams over the audience. But the second he sees Ethan, he knows we’re in trouble. “Dude, are you feeling all right?”

  Ethan gives a big smile. “Never felt better!” He runs out to the stage before we’re even announced.

  “Crap.” Jack follows behind him while Ben and I stare at each other.

  “Please don’t tell me he’s been drinking,” Ben says.

  I shake my head. “Then don’t ask a question you don’t want to know the answer to.”

  Ben runs out and I have no choice but to follow him.

  Ethan grabs the microphone. “All right, New York City! I’m feelin’ good; how are you all doing tonight?” The crowd screams back. Ethan stumbles slightly as he reaches for his guitar. “I’ll tell you what. You all look beautiful tonight, you do.”

  Some girl in the audience shouts, “You’re hot!”

  Ethan falls to his knees. “Who said that?” There are a bunch of screams. “It’s nice to know that somebody appreciates me.”

  I look back to Jack, who motions for me. I run over.

  “Can you do the main riff for ‘I Wanna Be Sedated’?” he asks.

  “Of course!” I scream over Ethan’s incessant banter.

  “You might as well do it because I don’t think he’s going to shut up.”

  Jack counts off and I start playing.

  Ethan starts jumping up and down. This probably isn’t the best way to calm him down, but we need to do something to get him focused.

  Ethan runs to grab the microphone, but loses balance. Everything plays out in slow motion. He lunges forward, and although he tries to steady himself, he falls down into the small barrier between the crowd and stage.

  Ben and I run up to the side of the stage.

  When I look down, I see Ethan sprawled out like one of the chalk outlines you see on TV.

  I jump down right as I hear voices screaming “Call 9-1-1!” around me.

  “Ethan! ETHAN!” I’m afraid to touch him. He isn’t responding.

  Ethan lies there unconscious with blood dripping from his mouth.

  What the hell is going on?

  My head is throbbing and my mouth is dry. No, dry is an understatement — it feels like I drank the Sahara. I try to move my mouth around and feel something sharp.

  “Ethan?” I hear a familiar voice in the distance. Emme.

  My eyes feel so heavy, but I try to open them. As I move slightly, I feel my right arm encased in something. And a gentle squeeze to my left hand.

  “Ethan? It’s me, Emme. Please open your eyes.”

  My eyes flicker open. The effort it takes for such a simple task is exhausting.

  I finally open my eyes all the way and it takes a second to soak in my surroundings.

  Am I in a hospital? Why is Emme crying? Why is my arm in a cast?

  Emme stands up. “Ethan, can you hear me?”

  I let out some sort of noise. She lets go of my hand as she runs over to the door. I want to reach out for her. I don’t know what’s going on, but I want her back.

  A nurse comes in, flashes a bright light in my eyes, and checks the machine I’m hooked up to. All I do is stare at Emme, who has tears trickling down her face. I know that I’m responsible for those tears. I wish I knew what I’m supposed to apologize for.

  The nurse talks softly to Emme, who nods. Once we’re left alone, she picks up a glass of water. “Are you thirsty?”

  I nod. Did I lose my voice? Why can’t I talk? What is this sharp thing in my mouth? What did I do?

  Emme picks up a glass of water and puts the straw to my mouth. The cool liquid feels refreshing, even though I taste something metallic.

  “Ethan.” Emme grabs my hand and sits down next to me. “I called your parents and they’re on the first flight they could get from London. They should be here in a few hours.”

  I start to cough and she looks panicky. She gets up like she’s going to leave, and I grasp her hand so tightly she can’t move. She’s surprised by my strength.

  “Wh … What?” I try to get out.

  “What happened?”

  I nod.

  She bites her lip. “Um, to be honest, I don’t really know, Ethan. I was sort of hoping you could tell me. Because right before the gig, you disappeared and before we knew it …”

  The gig. Tyler with Emme.

  How do I tell her that I snapped, seeing them together, and tried to find a temporary reprieve to get me through the show? The headli
ning band had a bottle of vodka and, well … I knew it was a big mistake at the time. Clearly, this is one of the few instances when I should’ve listened to myself.

  “During the first song, you were out of control and you fell off the stage and your head hit one of the speakers on the way down. You broke two of your teeth and I guess you reached out to break the fall, but ended up fracturing your arm. It’s going to be in a cast for at least six weeks.”

  Six weeks without being able to play the piano or guitar. I don’t even know what this means for school or the band.

  “I’m sorry,” I finally speak.

  Emme’s quiet. She looks at the door. “Um, I need to let my mom and the guys know that you’re awake now. I don’t think the doctors believed for a second that I was your sister, but I wasn’t going to let you wake up all alone. But it’s six in the morning and …”

  “Please don’t leave me.” I feel a tear run down my face.

  She hesitates. “Just give me a few minutes.”

  As soon as she leaves the room, a sense of panic overwhelms me. I’ve done stupid things. Oh, how I’ve done stupid things, but I can tell by the way she’s looking at me that I’ve crossed a line I will probably never recover from.

  She comes back and sits down. I reach my hand out for her. She takes it. Her eyes are puffy from crying and she looks miserable and exhausted.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She doesn’t respond.

  “Emme?”

  She looks at me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She nods.

  “Please say something to me. Anything.”

  She closes her eyes and her lips start moving slightly. I’m temporarily relieved that she’s doing something that’s normal. Any sense of normalcy in this foreign environment is welcome.

  She sighs. “Honestly, Ethan, I don’t really think I can say what I want to say to you right now. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  By the way she won’t look at me, I can tell she hates me. But I need to know what she feels. I need to know she can still feel something toward me.

  “Please, I know you’re mad.”