Even though she didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, Millie felt like it was important to be honest with them, too. “Maybe you two could talk things over?” She looked between Ashley and Luna. “You know—for the sake of the group?”
“Ashley doesn’t want to be my friend. What else is there to talk about?” Luna folded her arms across her chest.
“I never said that,” Ashley countered.
“You just called me fake,” Luna bit back.
Ashley looked away. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just mad.”
“But why?” Luna demanded. “I know you don’t like Ruby and Annabelle, but do you have to hate me, too?” She shook her head. “It’s not fair. If you’re going to be mad at me all the time, I’d rather we didn’t talk at all. And maybe—maybe it’s better if I left J-Club.”
Zuki’s eyes looked wild. “What? You can’t quit!” She turned to Ashley like she was shouting You need to fix this.
But Ashley wasn’t paying attention to Zuki. They were only looking at Luna. “That’s not what I want. Besides, you joined first. If anyone has to leave, it should be me.”
“Well, that’s not what I want either,” Luna said quietly.
Zuki was barely holding herself upright.
Millie remembered what she’d said about Miyuki, and how she made Generation Love feel whole. Maybe that was what J-Club needed. Someone to be the glue that kept them all together.
Millie lifted her eyes slowly. “What about a truce? For the sake of the club?” Everyone turned to look at her, and her voice became the only sound in the room. “You both could agree to put your differences aside. Even if you can’t be best friends again, maybe you could at least learn to get along?”
Luna looked at Ashley seriously. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
Ashley stuffed their hands in their pockets. “I’m fine with a truce. But you can’t pretend like you don’t know us. We deserve better than that.”
“I know you do,” Luna said with a nod. She looked at Zuki. “And I really am sorry.”
Zuki mostly looked relieved J-Club wasn’t going to lose any members. “I accept your apology. And I did almost break our promise about keeping J-Club a secret, so I guess it’s not totally your fault.”
Luna frowned. “What do you mean?”
Zuki sighed and let her arms fall to her sides. “I was going to ask you about Pop Showcase, but it doesn’t matter. Ashley was right: we don’t have enough members.”
Luna’s face fell. “I—I can’t audition for Pop Showcase. Not with…”
“I know,” Zuki said curtly. “Let’s just pretend it was never a thing. Besides, I was thinking we could work on the choreography for ‘Love Bright’ today. I was watching their video, see, and I thought…”
And just like that, she turned back into Zuki—the Zuki who talked fast, and laughed with excitement, and had a thousand ideas going on at once. The tension was still in the room, hovering over the air like a blanket, but it was thin. And with Zuki gushing about dance routines, it was almost easy to pretend the tension didn’t exist at all.
Millie was glad there was a new truce in place, but part of her wondered if arguments were like cracks in a vase. If you didn’t mend them, they’d get worse over time. And eventually, the vase would break.
All she could do was hope that J-Club was a lot stronger than ceramic.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Millie’s dad gripped the steering wheel the way he always did—like he was a bus driver making his way down a crowded, narrow street. He did most things that way: hyperfocused and maybe even a little impatient.
Millie stared out the window, drumming her fingers against her flute case in time to a Generation Love melody. She was still worried about her friends.
She had suggested a truce because she wanted to stop the fighting and keep the group together. But had she made the right choice? Would it have been better to actually talk?
Not to mention Luna was still keeping J-Club a secret. And if Millie was learning anything about secrets, it was that they only got harder to carry with time.
“What’s on your mind?” her dad asked, slowing the car at a stop sign.
Millie’s fingers went stiff. It wasn’t like him to notice when something was bothering her. “My friends had an argument at school, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Ah. Is that why you were so distracted during your flute lesson?” Scott asked.
Millie frowned. “Well, maybe, but—”
“You have to pay attention to your flute teacher. Lessons are expensive, Millie. It doesn’t help anyone to have you stand there for an hour daydreaming about your friends.”
“I wasn’t daydreaming. My friend was upset and—”
“If you’re going to challenge the first chair flutist, you need to focus. You still have so much to learn, and Brightside Academy is going to offer you a lot of opportunities.”
“I don’t want to challenge anyone, Dad!” Millie said too loudly. “I’m happy where I am.”
Scott frowned, turning a corner and gripping the wheel tighter. “I’m not saying second chair isn’t something to be proud of, but I know you can do better. You have it in you—you’re so talented. And part of the agreement with going to school was that you were going to work harder at the flute. Otherwise we’d be better off homeschooling you so you’d have fewer distractions.”
“I can care about more than one thing, you know,” Millie said stiffly. “My friends matter, too.”
“Letting your friendships get in the way of your real life is just as bad as someone not turning up to work because they had a fight with someone. You have to prioritize what’s important.”
“My friends are important. And they are my real life.”
Scott sighed. “I know it feels like that now because it’s new and you’re young, but you’re at school to learn. And if your friends are getting in the way of that, we’re going to need to sit down and have a serious talk.”
He was threatening to take her out of school. She could hear it in his tone, like he was gripping the edges of a rug and was prepared to pull it out from beneath Millie’s feet.
So Millie did the only thing she could think of to end the conversation. She agreed.
“I’ll practice harder,” she said, her voice numb.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Scott said.
Millie put in her earbuds and turned the volume up on her phone, trying to drown out the pounding in her head with the sound of Chiyo’s voice. She practiced the dance routine in her mind, mimicking the choreography with her toes where her dad couldn’t see.
And all the while, she tried her best not to cry.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The cafeteria rattled with noise. Millie and Zuki sat in their usual table at the edge of the room and were halfway through their lunch when one of them asked the obvious question.
“Where do you think Ashley is?” Millie stared at the empty chair.
Zuki stuffed her mouth with fries. “No idea.” She spoke through the corner of her mouth. “But I saw them in class this morning.” She swallowed her mouthful of fries. “Maybe they’re sneaking into empty classrooms again. I mean, it’s kind of their thing at this point.”
Millie watched Zuki reach for another few fries, admiring the colorful new addition on her friend’s wrist. “I can’t believe you made that out of Starburst wrappers,” Millie said, full of awe. It matched the rest of Zuki’s bracelets, all rainbow-hued and attention-grabbing.
Even though it wasn’t like her to be embarrassed, Zuki immediately tucked her hand into her lap. It took two whole seconds before her smile returned. “It’s pretty easy. I can show you how to do it later, if you want,” Zuki offered. “But we need more Starburst. If you get any from the vending machine, don’t throw the wrappers away.”
Millie didn’t know what to make of the long pause, so she decided to ignore it. “My parents don’t give me extra money for vending machine
s,” she admitted. “So it might take a while.”
Zuki reached into her pocket and pulled out a dollar. “Here, take this!”
Millie froze. “Oh, I didn’t mean I needed money or anything. I just meant my parents only give me enough to cover lunch.”
“My parents always give me extra. So take it—I want to make you a bracelet, too!” Zuki said.
Even though it made her uncomfortable, Millie took the dollar, mostly just to stop Zuki from waving it in front of her face. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Zuki grinned and turned back to her lunch.
“It’s kind of cool that your parents give you money like that,” Millie said. Her parents only gave her spending money for very special occasions, like if they went to an arcade or an amusement park.
Zuki stiffened. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess.” A fragile laugh tumbled out of her. “I guess they do it because they feel guilty.”
“Guilty about what?” Millie asked quietly.
“Oh, nothing. I didn’t mean anything by that.” Zuki adjusted her bracelets like she was preoccupied, but Millie could see there was something else bothering her.
Before she could ask what it was, Ashley appeared with their hands stuffed in their pockets. For all Ashley acted like they didn’t care about anything, their uniform was always immaculate. Millie could never keep her bow tie straight, and her skirt was always a little wrinkled by the end of the day. But Ashley looked like they’d just stepped out of a catalog.
“I think I found us a fifth member,” Ashley announced.
It took Millie and Zuki a moment to process what they’d just said.
“You mean someone else wants to join J-Club?” Millie’s excitement was already growing.
Zuki fired question after question. “Who is it? What did they say? What’s their major? Can they sing?” She clapped her hands. “How do they feel about pastel color schemes?”
Ashley rolled their eyes. “I’m not a recruiter. I’m just saying I think I know someone. Just—follow me, okay?”
Millie and Zuki put their lunch trays away and followed Ashley in a blur.
Ashley led them to the other side of campus, past the orchestra and band rooms and all the way to the end of the street until they reached the theater. The parking lot was empty and all the doors were shut, but Ashley made their way up the stairs anyway.
“Are we supposed to be here?” Millie whispered to Zuki. “It looks like it’s closed.”
Zuki giggled. “Of course it does. There’s no performance on today, and the only people who have a class here are the tech majors.”
“So we won’t get yelled at for going inside?”
“I mean, maybe. But how else are we going to know who wants to join J-Club?”
Millie wanted to point out there were at least three solid alternatives. She couldn’t help it—overthinking was just part of her personality. But she also envied the way Zuki and Ashley moved through spaces like they belonged there. Like they were totally and completely comfortable living in this world.
She wished she could be more like them.
So she did the next best thing and followed them inside.
The sound of someone singing carried through the auditorium doors and filled the foyer. Whoever it was sang beautifully, with perfect pitch and an earthy tone. They sounded relaxed, which was probably the first indication that they thought no one could hear them.
Millie followed her friends into the theater until she had a clear view of the stage. Sitting in the center, with her half-eaten lunch at her side and headphones planted on her ears, was Rainbow Chan.
And she was singing a Generation Love song.
Ashley looked over their shoulder at Millie and Zuki and pointed to the stage. See? they mouthed.
Zuki was beaming from ear to ear. She rushed to the stage before Millie could stop her. “You are amazing!” she said, but with the acoustics it sounded like she was shouting.
Rainbow jolted to her feet, tearing off the headphones like she’d been caught in her hiding place. With saucer eyes and two messy braids hanging from her shoulders, Rainbow folded her arms in front of herself protectively.
“We’re sorry,” Millie said quickly, sensing Rainbow’s discomfort. “We didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“It’s okay,” Rainbow mumbled noncommittally. She sounded like someone who said those words at least fifty times a day just to make everyone else feel better.
“You have a really good voice,” Millie offered.
Rainbow froze but didn’t bring her eyes back up. There were a few plastic containers near her feet, filled with brown rice, tofu, and something the color of beets.
“Do you always eat your lunch in the theater?” Millie tried again.
“I don’t—there—um—there’s usually nobody else in here,” Rainbow said, her voice a nearly inaudible squeak.
Ashley looked around the auditorium. “It’s a good hiding place. I bet the hall monitors never check it during lunch.”
Rainbow’s face turned bright red.
“We’re not here to get you in trouble,” Millie said quickly.
“No, definitely not. We want to know if you want to join J-Club!” Zuki exclaimed. “Did you see the posters we put up a while ago? We were auditioning for a Generation Love imitation band. And you’re fantastic! We could really use another singer. Another member, really. We meet on Thursdays in the orchestra room after school. You could eat lunch with us from now on, too, if you like. Ashley does—oh, you must know Ashley Seo, right? They’re the one who told us you were here!”
Rainbow looked confused.
“We don’t know each other,” Ashley corrected. “I’m just observant. And also, I left my backpack in the tech room earlier and came back to get it. That was when I heard Rainbow singing.”
It was the second time Ashley seemed to be looking out for Rainbow. For someone who claimed not to care about anything or anyone, Ashley was clearly more friend than enemy.
But why hide it? What was so wrong with people knowing they were kind?
Maybe Ashley simply preferred being backstage, in the shadows, where they could work without people watching their every movement. They were a tech major, after all.
Millie guessed some people liked being onstage, and some preferred to build the stage. Rainbow scratched her arm nervously.
Zuki smiled. “So what do you think? About J-Club, I mean. Will you come to the meeting on Thursday? I promise it will be fun!” It was like she didn’t even notice how uncomfortable Rainbow looked. All Zuki ever saw was the possibility of something wonderful. The details didn’t matter.
For a while, Rainbow didn’t say anything at all, but then a small smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. “You said it was a Generation Love imitation band?”
Zuki nodded too many times. “We even have someone to help with the choreography! And with another member, we could probably try out for Pop Showcase!” Her excitement was like a cartoon snowball rolling down a hill, getting bigger and bigger until it was unstoppable.
But for the first time, Rainbow didn’t seem to totally mind. “Okay,” she said timidly. “I—I’ll be there on Thursday.”
When Millie and Zuki cheered, the acoustics made the entire room cheer right back. And they didn’t care who heard.
Because J-Club finally had its fifth member.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Luna was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, studying the choreography to one of the easier Generation Love routines on her phone. Millie and Zuki had pushed all the chairs to the edge of the orchestra room to clear as much floor space as possible. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was better than nothing.
Ashley leaned against the podium. “Wouldn’t it be better to rehearse somewhere with mirrors? Like, I don’t know, in one of the dance rooms, for example?”
Luna looked up from her phone, jaw tensed.
Zuki’s face brightened. “Is that something you could ask about, Luna? Cou
ld you get permission? I was going to do it myself, but I don’t really know the dance teachers. But it would be so much better to rehearse in a dance studio. We wouldn’t have to waste so much time recording ourselves with our phones, or taking turns watching the rest of the group practice to look for mistakes. And we’d have so much more space!”
Luna hesitated. Millie knew what she was thinking, even if Zuki was too excited to piece everything together.
“She’d have to say what it was for,” Millie said quietly. “And then the other dance majors might find out about J-Club.” Millie had a feeling most of the dance majors wouldn’t care at all—the majority of them were perfectly nice people—but she could think of two in particular who would care a whole lot.
Luna’s eyes fell to the floor.
“Would it really be so terrible if Ruby and Annabelle knew?” Millie asked. “Even if they think J-Pop is silly, or if they get mad that you have a secret hobby, they’d get over it eventually. They wouldn’t just stop being your friend because of something so small.”
“But what if they did?” Luna argued. There was genuine fear in her eyes.
Ashley stiffened. Even Zuki didn’t seem to know what to say, which was a rarity.
So Millie lifted her shoulders and answered for all of them. “Then you’d still have us, and it would be Ruby and Annabelle’s loss.”
Luna opened her mouth just as the orchestra door fell shut. Everyone looked toward the noise and found Rainbow Chan and her big red glasses and argyle socks standing near the doorway.
She was staring right at Luna, her face devoid of color.
“Rainbow!” Zuki said with a smile. “Come on in! We were just about to start learning the choreography.”
Rainbow hesitated. “If—if this is a joke…” Her eyes started to water. “And if you’re just trying to make fun of me…”
“It’s not!” Zuki and Millie blurted out in unison.
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