Generation Misfits

by Akemi Dawn Bowman

  Millie’s grades were terrible. Even though she’d gotten used to the routine of homework, it was too late in the quarter to bring her grades back up in any significant way.

  She knew her parents would find out eventually. She knew it was only a matter of time before all her lies unraveled.

  But she was so happy having friends and being in J-Club that she didn’t want to think about report cards. The truth would come out eventually.

  For now, Millie wanted to pretend everything in the world was as it should be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Repeat after me: I don’t care what you think.” Ashley’s hands were lifted up in front of their face. It reminded Millie of the way Mr. Thomas looked when he was conducting band.

  Rainbow teetered in place like she was about to lose her balance. “I—I don’t care what you think,” she half mumbled, half whispered.

  Ashley tutted. “No. You have to say it like you mean it. Like you’re going into battle.”

  Rainbow cringed. “I don’t want to go into battle.”

  Millie tried not to giggle, even when Ashley raised their hands higher and growled, “I don’t care what you think!”

  Rainbow took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I. Don’t. Care…” She wrinkled her face and chirped, “What you think?”

  Ashley dropped their arms. “This is going to be a challenge.”

  Luna poked her head up from the front of the orchestra room. She and Zuki had been going through Generation Love videos to find choreography they wanted to mimic, and until that moment, neither of them had even acknowledged Ashley’s mission to teach Rainbow how to stand up for herself.

  “You should try pretending you’re talking to someone else. Like instead of speaking to someone you’re scared of, imagine you’re speaking to someone you feel indifferent to.” Luna paused. “Like a cartoon troll who won’t stop telling you weird jokes.”

  Ashley looked offended. “That’s terrible advice.”

  Luna pouted. “I’m only trying to help.”

  “If you want to help, why don’t you tell Rainbow what Ruby and Annabelle’s weaknesses are? Everyone has one. And you’re on the inside,” Ashley said.

  Luna scowled in response. “I am not on the inside.”

  Ashley turned back to Rainbow. “Okay, one more time.”

  Rainbow’s entire body wilted. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

  “You have to learn how to defend yourself,” Ashley said matter-of-factly. “And no offense, but you don’t look like the fighting type.”

  “Those aren’t your only options,” Luna interjected just as Rainbow started to turn a panicked shade of carnation pink. “You can also choose to ignore people.”

  Rainbow adjusted her glasses. “I—I’d probably be better at that. I’m not really good at confrontation.”

  “But they won’t leave you alone if you don’t stick up for yourself,” Ashley argued gruffly.

  “You’re not leaving her alone either,” Luna pointed out.

  “She’s scared,” Ashley said. “I’m trying to help her overcome that.”

  “By making her do something she doesn’t want to do?”

  “Someone has to stick up for her.”

  “She can stick up for herself!”

  “No, she can’t!”

  “Yes, she can!”

  Luna and Ashley went back and forth with their words, again and again, and then they were talking over each other and Millie could barely differentiate between what was being said. All she knew was that neither of them was going to back down.

  And then Rainbow shouted. “Stop talking about me!”

  Everyone froze. Even Zuki looked up from her phone in alarm.

  Rainbow’s shoulders were shaking, and her eyes were as wide as full moons. “Please?” she added like an afterthought.

  Ashley smirked. “See? I knew you had it in you.”

  Even though Rainbow was on the verge of tears, she let out a strained laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever shouted at someone before.”

  “I’m sorry,” Luna said guiltily. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Neither did I,” Ashley admitted. “But I’m proud of you for using your voice.”

  Rainbow tugged at her sweater-vest. “Thanks. I—I think I’d be happier if I didn’t have to use it again anytime soon, though. I feel a little light-headed.”

  “But now you know you can use it,” Ashley pointed out, “if you ever need to.”

  Rainbow glanced at Millie nervously. “Is J-Club always so intense?” she whispered.

  Millie snorted. “Honestly? Yes.” And then she grinned. “But I kind of love how alive it makes me feel.”

  Warmth flooded Rainbow’s eyes. “I think maybe I do, too.”

  “I’ve got it!” Zuki exclaimed like she’d just been catapulted from another world. “Okay, check this out. I think we should use the main choreography from the music video but combine that with the opening sequence from this live show.” She pushed her phone out into the center of the room, and everyone gathered around to watch.

  When the video ended, Millie beamed. “I love that idea!”

  “I could work on coming up with some transitions as well,” Luna said. “We obviously don’t have all the extra backup dancers, so we’ll need something a little cleaner for just the five of us.”

  Everyone began talking over top of one another, eager to provide input to make their new routine as strong as possible.

  They may have been different pieces of the wrong puzzle, and maybe none of them quite fit the way they were expected to, but there was something bigger bringing them together. And it was more than just J-Club.

  All Millie had wanted for years were friends who felt like family.

  And maybe—just maybe—the universe had finally answered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Pop Showcase auditions weren’t far away, and J-Club was practicing harder than ever.

  Millie was still fumbling over some of the dance steps, but that was mostly nerves. Because she did get nervous, even if she was around her friends. Playing the flute in front of people made her feel the same way—like messing up once would be the end of everything.

  But Luna was a patient teacher. She made learning the steps feel like she was learning them, too, even though she was clearly the best dancer by miles. Millie didn’t know how someone could be so talented and still have zero ego, but Luna managed it. She was nothing like Ruby and Annabelle. She was kind.

  Millie wished the rest of the school could someday see that kindness, too.

  “Try to keep this pose clean,” Luna said, holding up her hands to show everyone. “It has to be sharp—like this.”

  They ran through the song two more times before taking a break to grab their water bottles.

  “We should record the next run-through on my phone,” Zuki suggested. “So we know what we need to work on, vocally.” She looked at Millie seriously. “I think you need to sing just a little bit louder.”

  Millie’s shoulders fell. “Sorry. I only used to sing Chiyo’s parts at home. I’m still trying to remember the background parts.”

  “It’s okay, you’ll get there! Just don’t be shy about it. It’s probably way easier singing the background anyway since you’re doing it with three other people.” Zuki motioned to herself. “I have to sing lead, which means I’m under the most pressure. It’s like Chiyo at the Sugar Flower Stadium. Do you remember when she was sick, and she still had to go onstage and perform in front of thousands of people? Everyone talked about how phenomenal she was for months!”

  “That was one of the greatest live performances of all time,” Rainbow said dreamily.

  Ashley made a face. “But you aren’t sick, so how is that the same thing?”

  Zuki ignored them and focused on practicing her dance steps instead.

  Luna took another sip of water. “Well, I’m very glad I don’t have to do any solos. I can’t imagine an ent
ire auditorium listening to my voice.” She shuddered.

  “You dance in front of people all the time,” Zuki pointed out, halfway through an eight-count.

  “Yeah, but it’s different. Singing is scary.” Luna sighed. “I don’t know how you do it, Rainbow. You’re the shyest theater major I’ve ever met.”

  Rainbow shrugged awkwardly. “I never get picked for lead parts anymore, so it’s not so bad when you’re in a group. People are never watching me directly.”

  “You should get picked for a lead,” Ashley said. “You’re an amazing singer.”

  “Yeah,” Millie and Luna agreed.

  Rainbow blushed. “I always used to dream of singing a solo on a big stage. But it didn’t go so well last time…”

  “You threw up once,” Ashley pointed out, waving their hand like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s not a recurring thing. You were nervous.”

  “Other people get nervous,” Rainbow squeaked. “What happens to me is more like an atomic bomb going off inside my chest.”

  “Oh, that reminds me!” Zuki exclaimed, clapping her hands. “I compared all of our personality quizzes and decided we each should take on a persona from Generation Love. It makes sense since we’re an imitation band.”

  Rainbow looked confused. “Personality quiz?”

  “Don’t worry,” Zuki said with a short laugh. “You weren’t here when we did it, so I just filled out a form for you and guessed what your answers would be.”

  Ashley snorted. “Because that’s not supercontrolling at all.”

  Zuki continued, oblivious to Ashley’s remark and Rainbow’s discomfort. “So obviously I’m Chiyo, and then Ashley is most like Ryoko—you both have short hair. And Rainbow is definitely Miyuki, who is like a quiet bookworm. And Luna is like Hana, because she’s outgoing and funny and she can dance. And Millie, you can be Asuka!”

  Millie’s heart pinged. “I thought you said I was Miyuki?”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, I changed that because Rainbow is way more shy than you are,” Zuki explained.

  Asuka was the supertrendy one who always wore pink and loved stuffed animals. She wasn’t like Millie at all.

  But Millie got the feeling the personas weren’t up for negotiation. Zuki had already made the plan; everyone else was just supposed to follow it.

  “Why am I Ryoko? Just because I have short hair?” Ashley argued. “Seems more like a physical thing than a personality thing.”

  “I think this will really help us practice. Because now when we watch the videos, we’ll know who we’re studying!” Zuki said enthusiastically.

  “Well, I’m fine with Hana, even though I’m not sure anyone actually thinks I’m funny,” Luna said.

  “I don’t mind if Millie would rather be Miyuki,” Rainbow offered.

  “No, it’s fine.” Millie smiled, too, just to make everyone feel better. “I’ll be Asuka.”

  Zuki squealed. “Perfect! Should we run through the routine again?”

  Everyone stood up, and when the music started and Luna counted them in, they performed in unison, voices blending in harmony while Zuki attempted to outsing everyone. She sounded pretty good—she only got the pitch wrong once during the chorus—and with the backing track, it was hardly noticeable.

  But would it be enough to get them through the audition?

  Millie hoped so. She wanted to believe they stood a chance. Because after all their hard work, J-Club was finally starting to fall into sync.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Millie’s report card sat on the kitchen table, like evidence being displayed in a court case. Jane was sitting across from it, with heavy frown lines around her mouth and her forehead wrinkled with confusion.

  Millie couldn’t move. It felt like there was a rock lodged in her throat, and she couldn’t get rid of it, no matter how many times she swallowed.

  Scott closed the front door and hung up his keys. “I can’t believe the traffic today. There must be a game on or something at the high school. I felt like we were at that stop sign for years!” When he turned the corner, his face fell. “What is it?”

  Jane eyed the table, then Scott, then Millie.

  Millie silently begged the universe to freeze time. Maybe even indefinitely.

  “Millie’s report card came in the mail today,” Jane said. She stared at Millie with hard, serious eyes. “When were you going to tell us you were failing two of your classes? And getting Ds and Cs in almost everything else?”

  “What?” Scott asked, flabbergasted. He marched over to the table and picked up the report card, reading it again and again like he didn’t understand. “I thought you were getting mostly As?”

  Millie’s voice wobbled. “I just get confused about what I’m supposed to be doing sometimes. And I think I missed a few homework assignments.”

  “You haven’t been doing your homework?” Jane asked. “I don’t understand. Why on earth not?”

  “You don’t get Fs by missing a few homework assignments, Millie,” Scott corrected. “This is unacceptable. What happened? How did your grades fall so much since progress reports?”

  Tears pooled in Millie’s eyes. “I—I don’t know. School is just really hard. But I’m working on it. It’s just an adjustment.”

  “An adjustment?” Scott shook his head. “You never missed assignments when we were homeschooling you. And I don’t remember you ever telling us you were confused.”

  Jane sighed. “I’d say I’m glad you at least have an A in band, but I’m not sure anything on this report card deserves praise. This is terrible, Millie. We didn’t raise you to just blow off doing your homework.”

  “That’s not what I did,” Millie tried to argue. “But the teachers don’t always make it clear what we’re supposed to do. They write assignments down on the board, but they don’t tell you to look there—they just expect you to know. It took me a while to figure it out, and by then it was too hard to bring my grades up.”

  “But you had As,” Scott said, holding up his hands. “So how does this happen? And how could your teachers not let us know you were failing so many classes?”

  Millie burst into sobs. “Because I wasn’t getting As. I—I just didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

  Jane and Scott fell silent.

  Millie was certain the temperature in the room had dropped.

  “Did you forge your progress report?” Jane asked.

  Millie nodded, tears streaming. “I’m sorry. But I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. Because I really am trying. I just needed more time to get the hang of school.”

  “We don’t lie in this house, Millie.” Scott clenched his jaw and shook his head. “How are we supposed to help you if we don’t even know there’s a problem? How are we supposed to trust you?”

  Jane sighed. “Maybe Brightside Academy wasn’t the best idea. I don’t think Millie was ready for that kind of responsibility.”

  “No!” Millie blurted out. “My grades will be better next quarter. I am ready for school. I just needed some time!”

  Jane and Scott exchanged a glance. They were having a silent conversation, which was the worst kind. It meant whatever they decided would be final, and Millie didn’t get a say at all. She didn’t even get the courtesy of listening to them work it out.

  “You’re grounded,” Scott said finally. “No more Advanced Studies sessions until you get your grades up. Clearly you can’t handle the extra workload, and I want you home every day after school, sitting at this table so we can all do homework together.”

  Jane’s mouth was a thin line. “And if your grades don’t improve, there will be a serious discussion about whether leaving you in school is the right thing.”

  “Okay,” Millie managed to say between floods of tears. Her heart was sinking, sinking, sinking.

  “And by grounded, we also mean no computer and no phone,” Scott clarified, holding out his hand.

  Millie handed him her phone, feeling like she was being torn from her friends
—like she was one half of a discarded photo being tossed in the fire. Like her feelings didn’t matter at all.

  Millie knew she’d lied. She knew she’d done something wrong.

  But right then, she felt like she had been wronged more than anyone in the world.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  It was nearly lunchtime, and Millie still hadn’t told any of her friends what had happened. Because she knew what was at stake.

  She knew how much she’d be letting them down.

  Millie stuffed her math textbook into her locker and bit the edge of her lip to keep it from wobbling.

  “Um, Millie? Are you okay?” a quiet voice said from behind her.

  Millie turned to see Luna. It wasn’t unusual—most of the students stopped by their lockers before lunch to swap out their morning textbooks for their afternoon ones. But usually Luna was with Ruby and Annabelle, pretending nobody else in the world existed.

  Except the other two were nowhere to be seen. It was just Luna, her brows knotted with concern even as her body language suggested she was on a time limit.

  Millie shuffled her feet. She’d have to tell Luna and the others eventually. But maybe she could at least wait until there were fewer people around, just in case saying the words out loud caused Millie to burst into tears. “I’m fine. It’s just … grades and stuff.”

  Luna smiled sheepishly. “Oh, right. I thought you were crying. I—I was worried something bad had happened.”

  Millie didn’t know how to point out something bad had happened. She’d failed Math and Earth Science. Her parents had found out she’d lied about her progress report. And she’d been grounded quite possibly until the end of time.

  But worst of all, she’d have to quit J-Club.

  Luna had opened her mouth to say something else when a few students laughed nearby. She practically jumped in response until she realized they weren’t looking at her. Still, she tightened her arms around herself and lowered her voice. “You know, you can always try asking your teachers for extra-credit assignments if you need to boost your grades.”

  Millie blinked. “The teachers will do that?”