by Micol Ostow
I looked at him. “Book clubs?”
“We didn’t get any gigs out of that one,” he admitted. “But we did get some pretty good snacks. I’m just saying, don’t ask for permission. Just swing that wrecking ball of talent at your teacher’s head and smash those stupid rules right out of her brain.”
“This isn’t a club,” I reminded him. “It’s a school. And your plan sounds violent.”
“It’s a closed door. You need to bust it open. Sorry, once I work with a metaphor, I own it. I learned that in book club.”
“They’re not just going to let me back in,” I argued.
Luke stepped closer to me, lowering his voice so I could hear a new urgency creep in. “If getting back into music is what you want, then you gotta go for it. Learn from us—your tainted hot dog could be right around the corner.”
Ugh, fine, point: Luke. “I don’t even have anything prepared.”
Luke pulled a sheet of paper out of his back pocket. It was music. “It’s called ‘Bright,’” he said. “It’s a Sunset Curve song I wrote that we never recorded. It’s perfect for your range.”
I looked at the music, then back at Luke.
“All it needs is a little piano,” he said.
The other boys looked at me, expectant.
I turned the thought over in my head.
It wasn’t the worst idea I’d ever heard. And Luke was right—the song would be perfect. But I’d just sat down at the piano for the first time in ages this morning.
Was I really ready for a musical ambush? And if I was, would the school be ready for me?
“Look who spent all her daddy’s money on new costumes and Katy Perry’s choreographer,” Flynn grumbled.
Made moves / On the rise now / Run stuff get a piece of that pie now / We’re the best, no doubt / Check it out yeah we make ’em say wow
But Flynn’s sarcasm about Carrie’s performance at the high school spirit assembly was lost on me. Carrie’s band, Dirty Candi, was as polished as any professional pop band. The school auditorium was decked out in balloons and banners in sky blue, maroon, and white, our school colors, which was dizzying enough. When you added in Dirty Candi’s theatrical lights that they’d brought in special? It felt less like a high school rally and more like a Super Bowl halftime show.
In short? Carrie was going to be a tough act to follow.
But I had to do it.
“Man, I miss high school.” It was Reggie, in my ear.
“What are you guys doing here?” I hissed. They’d helped with the planning and provided the music. Their work here was done, as far as I knew.
“We couldn’t miss you sticking it to the man,” Luke said, his eyes twinkling.
The crowds of students in the bleachers burst into applause as Carrie’s show ended. The sound echoed in the oversized space.
“Thank you! Look for my video on YouTube!” Carrie called into the microphone, flushed and beaming. As an afterthought she added, “Go, Bobcats.”
“Now’s your chance.” Flynn elbowed me, grinning. “See you in music class.”
“There’s a keyboard on that stage with your name on it,” Luke said.
“I just … I didn’t have a lot of time to work on the song,” I said, suddenly nervous. Principal Lessa was making announcements and getting ready to dismiss the students. I had just a few seconds left to make the call. Then the moment would be over.
“I wouldn’t have given you that music if I didn’t think you could rock it,” Luke said.
I didn’t know why or how he had such confidence in me, but it was the boost I needed. Before my legs could become fully formed blocks of ice, I ran for the keyboard. I sat down, hovering my fingers over the keys.
I can’t do it.
I took a deep breath and glanced at Luke. He held my gaze and gave a reassuring nod.
Luke thought I could do it. I wasn’t sure why he thought that, but he did. And maybe … it was the push I needed? Slowly, I stretched my fingers out.
I hit the first note just as a few students began filing out of the room.
They stopped, though. The students who’d been leaving stopped, turned around, and settled back in just as my fingers settled across the keyboard in earnest, now.
I pushed forward, ignoring the curious gazes on me (and in Flynn’s case, the desperate hopefulness in her eyes).
Sometimes I think I’m falling down / I wanna cry I’m callin’ out / For one more try / To feel alive
My fingers stumbled and my voice caught. My whole body felt hot and my throat was tight. Maybe this was a terrible idea …
Just then, though, the sound of a full band chimed in behind me. Sunset Curve! They were playing with me! Relief flooded through me. Finally, I could let go, knowing I wasn’t alone.
Life is a risk but I will take it / Close my eyes and jump / Together I think that we can make it / Come on let’s run and—
—Rise through the night
I wasn’t alone. I didn’t have my mother, but with the boys onstage, playing with me, I wasn’t on my own anymore. I could do this.
But then, as I sang the last line, I realized—it wasn’t just that the band was playing alongside me. Luke was singing with me, too. They all were. I glanced out at the audience to confirm what I already knew was true—they could see the band! Onstage with me!
This time, the how didn’t matter. We were doing this. I jumped up, grabbing the mic and owning the stage. Reggie took over at the keyboard as Luke and I continued to sing, together.
Rise through the night, you and I / We will fight to shine together / Bright forever
The song ended, and the band disappeared just as quickly as they had appeared when it started. I stood there, breathless, heart fluttering in my throat.
Then the gym exploded in a chorus of applause and wild cheering. All those eyes that were trained on me were smiling, encouraging me, telling me they believed in me.
Us. They believed in us. Because it hadn’t been me alone up there, of course. Sunset Curve had been right beside me the whole time. Even if I was the only one who could see them.
“Hey,” someone called from the bleachers. “Where’d the rest of the band go?”
“Seriously … where’d the band go?”
It had been just minutes since my—our—set ended, but it felt like hours to me, glued to the stage, blinded by the spotlight, and totally thrown by what had just happened during my performance. Never mind how to begin explaining it to the rest of the school, who were all staring at me like I’d sprouted an extra head that also happened to be the head of Harry Styles.
Sunset Curve was here. Visible. To everyone.
And then they weren’t.
The room was foggy, humid, with the tension of one collectively held breath. Front and center, Carrie and her Dirty Candi bandmates glared at me, curious and obviously hating themselves for it.
“That … is an interesting question … that deserves a response,” I hedged.
“Wait,” one of Carrie’s bandmates chimed in, “were those holograms?”
Carrie shot her a zip it look, but I could have swept her up and kissed her. “Yes!” I blurted. “Yes, they were! I … plugged into the ceiling projector before the show. I’d explain, but it involves algorithms and science stuff.” Hopefully, that’d be enough to put off any more questions.
Along the far wall, I could see the boys having what looked like a heated rehash of our little performance. Thankfully, they were for sure invisible to everyone else again now. But how was I going to get out of this?
Saved by the bell. Principal Lessa stepped up to the microphone. “Okay, show’s over,” she said, her voice ringing with authority. “Please head to your next class.”
And I wanted to do just that, but before I could, Mrs. Harrison made her way over to me. Time to face the music (no pun intended).
I started stammering before she could open her mouth. “Mrs. Harrison, I know I shouldn’t have done that without asking, but I
needed to show that I belong here.”
She gave me a soft half smile. “As amazing as that was, your spot has already been filled by another student. My hands are tied.”
My heart sank. Until I heard Principal Lessa’s voice. “Mine aren’t.”
I turned to face her, hope flooding me. She gave me a full, bright smile. “As much as I don’t approve of your stunt, I’m not going down as the principal who kicked Julie Molina out of our music program, especially not after that performance.”
“Thank you!” I shouted, literally jumping up and down with excitement.
“But when you win your Grammy one day, I want to be thanked,” she finished. I nodded, still stunned.
Principal Lessa and Mrs. Harrison moved off, leaving me standing right in front of Flynn. I grabbed her in an epic hug … but she only gave me a half-hearted one back.
“You okay?” I asked, pulling away.
She shrugged. “I’m great.” It was not the shrug of a Flynn who was “great.” “When did you start playing with a hologram band?”
Oh. “Um … it was just the one song; we’re not a band. I mean, they’re a band. And holograms. Definitely holograms.”
“Yeah,” Flynn said slowly. “I saw that. And why have you been keeping those cute boys a secret?”
Excellent question, Flynn. I wished I could tell her the truth.
Maybe I could?
After all, she was my best friend. We told each other everything.
“Okay, well …” I started. “There’s an explanation for that, but it’s kinda crazy.”
“I’m all about crazy. Let’s hear it.”
“Okay, they’re …” I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look my best friend in the eye and use the word ghost. “From Sweden,” I said, panicked. “Turns out that in addition to having great meatballs, they’re also great at music. They play there, I stream them here. Anyway, who’s pumped that I’m back in the music program?” I glanced at her. Is she buying this?
Flynn raised a doubtful eyebrow. “Julie, are you lying to me?”
I bit my lip. What was I supposed to do, say, Okay, yes, I am lying? And then what? The truth would just not work. “Flynn …” I said, struggling, “I’m sorry.” It was the best I could do.
It wasn’t enough. Not remotely. Flynn shook her head, totally crushed. “ ‘I’m sorry?’ That’s all you got?”
She was right to be furious. I would’ve been, if I were her. But in that moment, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to open up.
She turned and ran.
I called after her. “Come on, Flynn—wait!” But it was pointless. She was already gone.
“You guys gotta stop doing this!”
It was Julie, who’d just come around a corner in the hallway to find herself face-to-face with us. We’d been waiting to talk to her since that crazy performance in the auditorium.
(Well, face to some of our faces, since we’d arranged ourselves in a little pyramid while we waited, like a musical pep squad or something. Hey, us ghosts have to pass the time somehow!)
I scrambled down from the formation when I saw her, holding up my hand. “Whoa, this one’s on you. We were already here. Well, we were over there, but then we came over here.” As long as we’re being specific.
Alex rolled his eyes, and I shrugged.
“Are we not gonna talk about what just happened?” Luke asked.
Julie made a face at him. “Yeah, the whole school just saw you. It’s freaking me out!”
“It’s freaking me out, too,” Alex said. “Why can you see us? And why can everyone see us when we play music with you? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“While we’re asking questions,” I added, “why can my clothes be made of air, but I’m still getting wedgies?”
The wedgie question was maybe not super relevant to the conversation, but it was driving me crazy. Some of us were freaked out, yeah. But some of us had a few other things on our mind, too.
Luke gave me a look and waved me off. “The important thing is, we rocked that,” he said to Julie. “They were loving you.”
“They were loving us,” she said, smiling. I realized how few times we’d seen her smile since we first met. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed and she looked … well … happy.
And also confused. Which, no judgment, so was I. (Not to mention the whole situation with the wedgies.) But it was nice to see a lighter side of Julie for once.
“That was a great song, Luke,” she said. “Thank you.”
“By the way, did you guys see those cheerleaders looking at me? Man, I miss high school,” I chimed in, wistful. Being in a band was major social currency for your average high school boy, dead or not.
“I’m so confused, though,” Alex said. “The afterlife should come with instructions. A quick-start guide. Something!”
“Well, luckily, everyone believed you guys were holograms,” Julie said. “And I got back into the music program.”
Strangely, that happy expression from just before had vanished, at exactly the moment I would’ve expected to be its biggest. This was supposed to be great news.
“Then … why do you look so bummed?” I asked. Alex nodded in agreement.
“Yeah,” Luke said. “You’re making this face.” He demonstrated, pouting and squeezing his eyes shut. (It was perfect, if I’m being honest.)
“That is not my face,” Julie said. “Things just got weird with Flynn. She wanted to know who you guys were and I couldn’t say.” She sighed.
“Sweet! The girls are already asking about us,” I said, pumping my fist. I was going for a laugh, but I guess Julie wasn’t in the mood. Okay, okay. I can quit joking around. For a minute, anyway.
“Stop,” Julie protested. “This is serious. I can’t tell her for the same reason I can’t tell my dad. She’ll think I’ve gone off the deep end.” She shook her head. “I gotta get to class.”
With one last inscrutable glance, she rushed off.
“Later, Julie!” I called after her. Then …
Serious minute over. “And tell those cheerleaders I’m single!” I added, trying to lighten the mood.
“And that he’s dead!” Alex put in, grinning.
“No, leave that part out!”
We were still laughing as she vanished down the hall.
But as soon as we poofed back to the garage, Alex went from laughing to pacing. I guess the high from performing had worn off, and all the freaked-out-ness of being dead came rushing back in its place. (I’m always telling that dude he needs to chillax. But he never listens.) He was probably going to wear a hole in the floor of the studio from all the walking back and forth, but it was like he couldn’t stop.
“I think he’s practicing his model strut,” I whispered to Luke.
“He’s so nervous, he almost makes me nervous,” Luke said.
Alex stopped pacing and turned to face them. “You guys know I don’t handle change well. Death? That was a change. Then we’re ghosts, another change. Oh—and now people can see us when we play with Julie! Big freaking change!”
Luke nodded, but I could tell from his eyes that he thought Alex was overreacting a little “It’s a good change,” he said. “With Julie we can be onstage again and be the band we never got to be. Come on, you gotta be down with that.”
“Sure, who wouldn’t be?” Alex agreed. “It’s way better than being just, like, straight-up dead. But I still have questions. I want to know why.”
“Forget why,” Luke said. “I say we officially invite Julie to join Sunset Curve.”
“Totally! A new lead singer would make this band legendary,” I said. I mean, since we couldn’t exactly cash in on the fact that we were ghosts, we needed another way to build some buzz.
“Hey—I’m our lead singer,” Luke said, offended.
“That girl has the voice of an angel and can make us visible,” I pointed out. “Without her, we’re just elevator music.”
I thought I h
ad made a good point, but Alex immediately went back to pacing.
“And we’re on the runway again,” Luke quipped.
“Sorry, guys,” Alex offered. “I just—need to go clear my head.” He reached out to grab the doorknob and it passed right through his hand.
“Just poof out like a normal ghost,” I suggested, rolling my eyes. So far, that was the best perk of being dead. But I guess Alex didn’t agree.
“Don’t tell me how to ghost!” he shouted … just before he poofed out.
I looked over at Luke with a sigh. “That guy really needs to relax.”
I appeared again right on Hollywood Boulevard, in the middle of the crush of tourists and people dressed up as different movie characters. Two guys in full Ghostbusting gear were walking toward me and I froze. I was ninety percent sure they were in costume, but what if I was about to be … busted?
They passed by without noticing me, just like everyone else. I was in the middle of a huge sigh of relief when out of nowhere, I was sideswiped by a skateboarder! He slammed directly into me, knocking me over.
I hit the ground as the skater recovered, kicking his board upright and grabbing it. “Aw, man … you dinged my board,” he said, inspecting it.
I got to my feet as quickly as I could, indignant. “I dinged your board? You ran me over! You’re lucky I’m—” I stopped, as my brain caught up to the moment. “Wait, you ran me over.” I looked at him. “You’re a ghost, too?”
He gave a sheepish nod. “Ever since I learned the hard way that skating in traffic is bad.” He shrugged. “Sorry I smashed into you. I thought you were a Lifer and I’d pass right through you.”
“A Lifer?” Being dead was hard enough without having to worry about learning new vocabulary words.
“That’s what we call people who are living.” He tilted his head. “You’re new to the whole ghost thing, aren’t you?”
I flushed. “Is it that obvious?”
He smiled. “Totally. I’m Willie.”
He pulled off his helmet, shaking out his hair.
His brown eyes were friendly.
