“Nothing. Just stuff on my mind.”
“Yeah? Anything I can help with?”
I sat on my bed and thought about that for minute. “You heard I got rejected from Tisch.”
My brother made a sympathetic sound and sat beside me on the bed. “Yeah. I did. I’m sorry.” He nudged me with a shoulder. “But you’ll bounce back. You always do.”
I managed half a smile. “Working on it.”
Dylan smiled, and it was like looking at Dad through some kind of time vortex. “I love when I’m right. So what are you planning?”
“I—” Abruptly, I clamped my mouth shut. I didn’t want to tell him about Elijah’s band. “Well…Etta thinks I need to do something unique. Edgy. Something that puts me ahead of the competition.”
“You mean for the conservatories.”
I nodded. “It’s kind of too late for a summer program. Plus, there are only so many slots.”
“I get that,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s just…well, I don’t see you studying the old masters.”
“Me neither!” I laughed. “I really want to go to Berklee, Dylan. I love stage, and I love dance. I want to study it all.”
“Then do it.”
I sighed long and loud. “It’s not that easy. Berklee is super competitive, and I don’t have a lot of cutting edge stuff in my repertoire.” My phone buzzed, and when I saw the time, I cursed. “I’m late. Gotta go.”
“Kris. Don’t do anything…you know, desperate, okay?”
Desperate. Right. “Sure, Dyl.” I grabbed my jacket and bag and took off, pangs of guilt stabbing me in the back as I headed downstairs.
• • •
An hour later, we were gathered at the food court, surrounded by a ton of music gear. I had no idea Elijah and his friends had so much stuff. Speakers, microphones, amplifiers, miles of cable… I stood off to one side with Rachel while the guys connected things to each other.
“Oh, groan! Look who’s here.”
I followed Rachel’s gaze and cursed. Leah Russo was walking toward us, flanked by her friends Brooke Greco and Addison Rhodes. I liked Addie very much, but Brooke and Leah together were practically toxic.
“Heard you’re singing with the boys now, Kristen?” Leah ran her eyes over my outfit and did that lip curl thing, the one that made it clear something stank.
“Yep.” I tucked my hands into my back pockets.
Leah exchanged a look with Brooke that broadcasted exactly how they felt about this. But before Leah could take another verbal swipe at me, Elijah called out. “Hey, Cartwright! Give us a hand.”
Gladly. I joined Elijah on the makeshift stage. “Can you connect the mics?” He handed me a box of wireless microphones and a package of batteries. I inserted the batteries in five microphones, flipped them on, and gave them a tap, happy to hear the sound picked up by the speakers erected to the side of the stage. When that was done, Elijah handed me a few sheets of paper.
“These are set lists. Could you tape them to the floor? One here, here, and here?” He indicated the placements he wanted. “I have one for you too. Just have to decide where you want it.”
I glanced at the list of songs, happy to recognize most of them as ones we’d practiced last weekend in Elijah’s garage. “So, what do you want me to do?” I waved the list.
He grinned down at me. With his hair tied back in a tail and wearing his usual black garb, he looked kind of like a pirate, and the image made me smile back. “What you do best, Broadway. I want you to fill in for now. At some point, I’ll want you to lead a couple songs, but not sure which ones yet, so maybe we’ll skip that tonight.”
“This one. I want to do this one.” I indicated the set list.
“‘Going Under’? Tonight?”
“Why not? Gotta start somewhere.”
His cocky grin faded a bit when he glanced at Sam, who was busy setting up a mic stand by Nick’s drum kit. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.” He smiled again, his eyes lingering on my body, but he never said a word about the way I was dressed.
“Elijah?” The mall’s event planner waved him over.
“Coming!” he called back. “Break a leg, Broadway.” He flashed the killer smile and strode off to confer with the mall guy.
Rachel was at my side in a heartbeat. “Wow. What were you two talking about? I could feel the sizzle from all the way over there.” I glanced over her shoulder and saw Leah, Brooke, and Addie staring at me. I straightened my shoulders and decided it was time to pull out some enthusiasm. I grabbed Rachel’s shoulders and shrieked, “Oh my God! He’s letting me lead a song!”
Rachel could always tell when I was acting and when I was real and knew exactly when to put on her own performance. She squealed back, adding in a little bounce and a hug. She was good, too. Wish I could convince her to give drama club a shot, but Rachel was a member of that strange species who liked blending in. Nick joined us, which made Leah’s face turn an interesting shade of purple.
“Hey, Kris! What’s this about leading?”
Oh, shit. Elijah hadn’t had time to tell them. “Oh, well, Elijah said I could sing ‘Going Under’ tonight.”
He shut his eyes, hands beating a rhythm only he could hear, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think you’ll rock it!” His smile faded when he saw Leah’s face. “Oh, um, I’d better go say ‘hey’ to my girl before she gets too pissed off at me to wish us luck.”
Rachel and I watched him jog over to Leah, grab her in a bear hug, and spin her in a dramatic kiss. “Wow. That was uh…”
“Yeah.” I nodded. There were no words. Nick was awesome, but Leah? She was a troll. Troll or not, her face lost its pinched look, and she seemed genuinely dazzled by Nick’s PDA. It was sweet and reminded me of my parents. I snuck a glance at Elijah and noticed at least half a dozen other girls gathered around the food court checking him out too.
The rest were glued on Sam. In fact, one brave girl already got him to autograph her chest and pose for a selfie or two. I couldn’t take my eyes off Sam, either. He worked the room, knew there were eyes on him, made sure he tossed his blond mane around, bent over a lot to showcase his butt, and swigged a lot of water. It was a performance, just like any other stage show, and you know what? I could completely respect that.
I did my vocal warm-ups, felt the butterflies in my stomach starting to dance, and went over the set list again. The stage area was all set up—Nick’s drum kit in the back, Elijah’s lead singer mic up front, Sam’s lead guitar on the right. I squared my shoulders, grabbed the tape, and stuck my copy of the set list to the floor beside Elijah’s. I grabbed the last mic stand and put it right there.
That’s where I’d be.
Suddenly it was time. Elijah grabbed his guitar and slung it over his shoulder. “Is your family here?” I asked him, but he went stiff and shook his head.
“No. They have to stay with my sister.”
“Oh.”
“Yours?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t told them what I was doing. “No, but that’s my best friend, Rachel, over there.”
He followed my gaze and waved. “Oh, yeah. Rachel. I remember her.”
“You do?”
“Oh, um. Yeah. Don’t be mad. She told me where to find you.”
“Oh, right. My acting class. I’m not mad,” I admitted. “Anymore.”
His eyes snapped to mine when I added that last word, but before he could say anything, the event planner guy was back with a mic of his own.
“Good evening, Bear River Mall shoppers! Tonight, the mall is proud to give you a local band, whose mix of hard rock and potent vocals will get you up and dancing along.” He waved his hand at Elijah, who took over with ease.
“Hello, Bear River! I’m Elijah. These are Nick, Sam, and Kristen. We are Ride Out!” He stuck a hand in the air, and the few peopl
e in the food court applauded. “We’ve got a sound all our own, but we thought we’d kick things off tonight with something familiar.” He turned back and gave Sam a signal. Sam started strumming the intro to the Rolling Stones song “Satisfaction.” A second later, Nick joined in with the beat. “If you know the words, sing along. We don’t mind!”
And with that, he plucked at his bass and launched into the song’s famous opening line. I just stood there at first, kind of bopping and dancing, but added background vocals when Nick and Sam did. I didn’t want to do it, but I couldn’t help it—Elijah was impossible not to admire. His stage presence was huge, and I had to admit it; a shiver of doubt that I could keep up ran down my back.
He worked that small crowd into a larger one. People leaving stores stopped to listen. The girl whose chest Sam signed was dancing right in front of us. And yes, a number of people started singing along. Elijah held out his mic to them, encouraging more. At the end of the song, he faced me to deliver one of the lyrics, so I put on a little show, holding up a hand, turning my back, pretending not to be interested. Our audience roared its delight, and cell phones came out.
Shoppers forgot about their food trays as we moved to the next song on the set list, another oldie, the Who’s “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” We played for forty minutes, the crowd growing with each song. People who stopped to listen stayed to listen more, recording us with cell phone cameras, singing along, and cheering us when we finished.
Elijah put the mic in its stand. “How’s everyone doing tonight? Do you want more?”
There were a few hundred people watching us now, standing on the upper floors as well as filling the food court. When they shouted, “More! More! More!” it shook the floor and vibrated deep inside my belly. My skin tingled from hair tips to toenails. Oh my God, this was better than drama club.
“This next song is original, written by us. It’s called ‘Let You In.’ If you like it, let us hear you!” He tossed his wild mane of hair over his shoulders, turned to Nick and Sam, and counted off. “One, two, three!”
We did it just like we’d practiced in Elijah’s garage. Soft intro, rising emotion leading to an explosive climax when I took my mic out of its stand and joined Elijah at center stage. I added more than my voice to his. I made it look like I was madly in love with the big jerk. Sam wasn’t happy about sharing his stage, but he hid it well. He kept crowding Elijah and me. I was pretty sure only the first row of spectators could see the sneer on his lips and probably figured it was part of his style. The song ended, and Elijah applauded me.
“Kristen Cartwright, everybody!”
Nick stood up and applauded for me too. Sam had no choice but to make it look good for the crowd. He grabbed me in a hug, and when he stepped back, kissed my hand. Our audience cheered more. Elijah held up his hands and quieted the crowd.
“Okay, we’re gonna slow things down a bit and give you more of Kristen. This is an old song from Evanescence. It’s called ‘Going Under.’”
“Don’t mess up,” Sam said loud enough for only me to hear when he handed me his mic and moved to take my place on the side. My smile melted at the edges for a second, but then Elijah stepped forward, guitar over his shoulder, and started strumming the bass. I lifted the mic and sang directly to him. The audience ate it up, whistling and shouting, “Woo!” While I sang, Elijah ad-libbed some stage directions to engage our new fans. “Come on, make me feel it, baby.”
I took a breath between verses. “I’m not screaming, growling, howling, or roaring for you, Elijah.” I tossed my hair back, and he grinned when the crowd totally lost it.
I’d been singing this song for years. I knew all the words, knew where the strong parts were and the soft ones. But Etta taught me a long time ago not to imitate anybody. So I didn’t deliver another Amy Lee imitation. I delivered my version. When I reached the chorus, I poured extra emotion into it, and the entire audience joined in. I slid the mic back into its stand and let the music fill me and got the crowd swaying. The food court was lit by the blue glow of a couple of hundred cell phones all aimed at us. When the song was over and I’d sung the last note, Elijah held up his hands, quieting the cheering crowd. Nick came out from behind his drum set, and we stood in a line at the center of our stage. “That’s it for us, everybody! Thanks for hanging with us. I’m Elijah. This is Sam and Nick and Kristen. We are Ride Out! Good night!”
Some girl shouted out, “I love you, Nick!” I applauded for Nick along with most of the crowd. Leah was distinctly not amused, and that made me a bit happier. Then, a guy shouted out, “Marry me, Kristen!” I blew him a kiss, and this time, Elijah was the one who wasn’t amused.
It was the best night of my entire life.
• • •
It took about an hour to break down all the equipment. The mall was closing, and a few people remained inside. Sam signed a bunch of autographs. Nick and Elijah did too, but not as many.
Even I signed one—it was for the guy who proposed. And he asked me out on a date. His name was Glenn, and he was a college sophomore.
“Kristen, did you say yes?” Rachel ran up to me as soon as we left the stage.
I shook my head. “Are you kidding? My dad would freak so far the hell out, it would effectively end my social life as I know it.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched a tall girl with straight, dark hair long enough to reach her waist chatting up Elijah.
“Aw.” Rachel’s shoulders sagged. “He was cute. And really nice. I talked to him for a while.”
“I didn’t get a really good look at him.” But I was getting a good look at this skank, twirling her hair, smiling at Elijah. He was coiling up cable, packing it into plastic bins, and making it look super heavy.
It wasn’t.
I’d carried that bin earlier.
“Kris, you signed an autograph for him.”
“Oh. Right.” Now he was twirling a lock of her hair.
“Kristen, what is the matter with you? Didn’t you have fun?”
“Oh, um. Yeah. It was amazing.” I rolled my shoulders and deliberately turned my back on Elijah.
Sam was making out with some girl in the gated entry to GameStop. Oh my God! They were taunting me. It was like some kind of band initiation, right?
“Uh, excuse me?”
I glanced around and found Marriage Proposal guy behind me again. A tiny shiver danced down my spine, and I took a step back.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He held up both hands and smiled shyly. “Actually, that’s why I came back. You know, so you wouldn’t be scared. I wanted to make sure you had a ride home.”
I exchanged a look with Rachel, and she nudged me with a shoulder. “Oh, um. Yeah. We’re good. Thanks.”
“Kristen, you were…amazing.” He actually blushed and looked down at his feet, hair flopping in front of his eyes.
They were so blue.
“Thanks.”
“You guys been together long?”
I shook my head. “No, tonight was my first gig with the band.”
Glenn laughed once. “No, I meant you and him.” He jerked his chin toward Elijah.
“Oh, we’re not together like that.”
“No?” Glenn smiled. He had dimples—one high, one low. He was sweet, in a puppy dog sort of way.
So why didn’t I feel a single tingle? I glanced at Elijah and his brown-haired Barbie doll. He had an arm slung over her shoulder. Both of them had their phones out, and it absolutely did not bother me one bit.
“So, um, can I walk you to your car?”
Why not? It wasn’t like anybody here would notice. “Sure. Hold on a second, though.” I looked for Rachel, who was next to me a second ago and now sat at an empty table over by Leah, Brooke, and Addie. “Rachel, is it okay if Glenn walks us to your car?”
“Ooooh, first names? Did you get his digits?” She lean
ed forward and patted the table. Before I could reply, Leah sniffed.
“Jeez, Kristen. Elijah and this guy? Kind of cheap.”
My face burned, but Addie shot Leah down. “Oh, shut up, Leah. You know Kris and Eli are just singing. I mean, look at him putting the moves on that girl. Why is it okay for him, but not Kristen? I say go for it.” She grinned at me.
“Okay, let’s go.” Rachel jumped up. “Bye!”
“Bye.” Addie held up a hand. “Kris, you were seriously awesome.”
“Whatever.” Leah examined her French-tipped manicure.
Whatever was right. Rachel and I walked back to Glenn, who smiled like a kid on Christmas morning. “I drove here with Rachel.”
“No problem. I’ll walk you to your car since the guys seem to be busy.”
I managed to laugh once. Nick had just grabbed Leah in a hug, Elijah was making out with the brown-haired Barbie, and Sam hadn’t even looked at me. “Let’s just go.”
“Lead the way.”
Rachel took out her keys. “This is so nice of you.”
“No problem,” Glenn said. “So your band rocks. You guys were sick.”
I shrugged. “It’s not my band. But thanks.”
“You seemed so into it.”
I was into it. The rush was outrageously cool. But now I felt totally let down and all deflated. I just wanted to go home and climb into bed with a container of ice cream.
“Oh, she’s always like that onstage,” Rachel explained.
“Wait, I thought tonight was your first time?”
“With the band,” Rachel clarified. “Kristen does a lot of theater work—acting, dancing, singing.”
“Cool, cool.” Glenn nodded, and I could tell he didn’t really mean that, but it was sweet how hard he was trying to impress.
“This is me.” Rachel aimed the key chain at her mom’s Toyota, and the headlights flashed once. She climbed behind the wheel so Glenn walked me around to the passenger side and opened the door.
“It was great to meet you,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you at Ride Out’s next gig.”