The Edge of Great

by Micol Ostow

  But after a minute, I watched her eyes widen. Confusion became excitement.

  The clatter of the promoter slamming down his handset filled the room. “Tasha!” he bellowed. “Get me CJ! Tell him I need a band to open in three hours!”

  “Sure, Frank,” Tasha said. She was already turning her laptop to face him. “But you might want to check this out first.”

  Reggie leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and flashed a knowing grin at Luke and me. The plan was working!

  Tasha held her hands up like I don’t know. “Somehow this video just started playing on my laptop. It’s got half a million hits in just two days.”

  Frank actually moved to her to get a closer look. “Who are they?”

  Tasha read from the description on the screen. “They’re a hologram band. They call themselves”—she squinted—“Julie and the Phantoms.”

  “Tell your friends,” Reggie whispered.

  “Where are they located?”

  She smiled. “That’s the best part. Our very own city of angels.”

  Frank nodded, decisive. “Book ’em.”

  The guys and I cheered—then realized Tasha was looking for a way to get in touch with us. Quickly, I grabbed a pen and scribbled Julie’s number on a Post-it.

  Luke nodded. “Good thinking.”

  Good thinking? This was great thinking! The best idea we’d had in our—well, did it count as our lives if our lives were technically over?

  And it was all thanks to Julie.

  She was waiting for us in the studio when we poofed back. She looked nervous and excited at the same time—basically how we were feeling. She was pacing back and forth like one of those power walkers you used to see at the mall. (Where did they all go in the last twenty-five years? Was it just all SoulCycle and barre class now?)

  She stopped in her tracks when we poofed in, talking a mile a minute. “Oh my gosh, what took you so long? How did Willie do? Did you get to the promoter? Did he see the video? Did he like us? Are we playing tonight? Why isn’t anyone talking? Somebody say something!”

  “You’re not giving us a chance!” Luke said, laughing. “That’s a lot of questions. But it’s fine, everything’s fine.”

  I nodded. “You should be getting a call right about … now.” We all stared at Julie’s phone.

  Nothing.

  I tried again. “Okay. Now.”

  Nope. This was getting awkward.

  Finally, her phone rang, the shrill jangle sending us all a few inches into the air. We were jumpy!

  Julie grabbed it. “Hello?”

  She held it out so we could hear both sides of the conversation. “Hi, this is Tasha from the Orpheum in Hollywood. Is this Julie of Julie and the Phantoms?”

  Julie did a little silent dance of excitement and then composed herself to reply. “Yes, it is.”

  And just like that, our plan was falling into place. Forget the jolts from Caleb—which, by the way, were getting more painful, and harder to ignore. The only electricity we’d be seeing tonight would be when we lit it up onstage—at the Orpheum!

  “We need to go over our set list,” Luke said, holding up his ever-present, battered notebook. “Julie was thinking we could open with ‘Stand Tall.’”

  “Sounds good,” Reggie said, distractedly tuning his guitar while he sat on the couch. The mood had definitely shifted a little from when we first heard we were playing the Orpheum. As the hours passed, it started to dawn on us—if this worked, we were crossing over. As in: away from here, to some unknown otherwise. Suddenly, we were starting to wonder—were we making the right choice?

  “Sounds good?” Luke gave him a look. “I wanna hear it sounds awesome. I know this isn’t how we wanted things to turn out, but we’re all in tonight. We’re getting a second chance to play the Orpheum!” He was trying so hard to be a cheerleader; it was sweet.

  “I get it,” Reggie said. “But it’s hard. Do we even know what’s on the other side when we cross over? Do we still get to hang together?” He was trying to be cool, but I could hear the quiver in his voice. “You guys are the only family I have.”

  I felt a little stab of uncertainty in my own chest. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen. But it’s not like we have a choice.”

  As if on cue, we were all suddenly racked by a searing jolt, so intense I felt it all the way down my spine. Reggie rubbed at his wrist. “Pretty sure we do. And it rhymes with Hollywood Ghost Club.”

  Julie rushed in carrying a garment bag, in frantic pre-gig mode. The door to the garage swung open behind her and stayed that way, but we were all too amped to notice or worry about being discreet just then. She immediately sensed our weird vibe. “What’s wrong?”

  “We just got rocked pretty hard by one of those jolt things,” I explained, still feeling it in my molars.

  “I think I ghost peed a little,” Reggie confessed, and we all shot him a look.

  “We’re fine,” I said quickly, mostly to put an end to any more talk about ghost pee.

  “I was …” Julie kicked her toe along the floor of the studio, suddenly shy. “I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

  Luke looked up, serious and alert. “Anything, Julie. You know that.”

  “When you cross over, if you meet my mom, would you please tell her I love her? And thank her for all this?” Now Julie’s voice was wavering, and I think there was something in all our eyes, too.

  “I will,” Luke promised.

  He cleared his throat. “Okay, guys, band circle.” We all formed a tight circle, Julie doing her best to rest her hands on ours. “I don’t know what brought us here. But what I do know is, Julie, you’re a star. And just because this is our last night together doesn’t mean we won’t be watching you from above. Now, let’s give them a show they’ll be talking about ’til the sun comes up. ‘Legends’ on three.” He counted us down. “One, two, three …”

  Together we all raised our hands. “Legends!”

  From outside the garage, a horn honked. “My dad’s taking me, so …” Julie gave us a last encouraging smile. “I’ll see you guys there?”

  Julie hurried out with her garment bag, and we thought that was that.

  But we were wrong.

  “It’s going to be weird not coming back here,” Luke said, looking around the studio a few minutes later.

  “And where is it that you think you’re going?”

  We turned. It was Caleb, looming over us with a menacing gleam in his eye. We were all freaked, but Luke covered quickly, crossing his arms over his chest and going into defense.

  “What do you want?”

  “Such hostility. I’m just here to congratulate you on your big night,” Caleb crooned. “Not everyone gets to play the Orpheum.”

  “Look, we know your stamp is hurting us, but like I said before, we already have a band. We’re not interested in joining your club.”

  “And you can’t make us … sir.” I tried to sound as emphatic as Luke, but I kind of whiffed it with the “sir.”

  Caleb raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Right, you’re crossing over tonight. So exciting. Funny thing about the crossover. No one really knows what’s waiting on the other side. But I know what’s happening on this side.”

  Dread rushed over me. I wanted to reach out, to stop Caleb, but there was no preventing it. He snapped his fingers, and we were gone.

  When we reappeared, we were backstage at the Hollywood Ghost Club, all decked out in vintage tuxedos. Caleb leered at us. “Don’t you look nice?”

  “How did he know our sizes?” I wondered out loud.

  Luke elbowed me. “That’s your question?”

  “I know you boys aren’t my biggest fans, and an eternity at my club might seem overwhelming. But humor me this one last pitch. For starters, isn’t it nice that you’re all here together?” He glanced at Reggie pointedly. “And believe me, everything you want”—this was for my benefit—“including Willie, is here. And on my stage, you don’t vani
sh when the music stops. The connection you’ll feel with the audience will be like no other.” And that was for Luke.

  From the orchestra pit, we heard the swells of an overture and the applause of the waiting crown.

  “You hear that? Isn’t it wonderful?”

  A jolt sizzled through us, making me grab my wrist like it was on fire.

  “Oooh,” Caleb clucked, fake-sympathetic. “That one looked like it hurt. Let me remind you, you don’t know if playing the Orpheum is your unfinished business. Do you have the time to make that mistake?”

  We looked at each other, nervous.

  “I suggest you accept my offer, because the clock is ticking.”

  My mom’s trunk held so much more than just that one Sunset Curve T-shirt. I’d raided it for my shows and gigs since I first started performing again, and tonight I’d picked something special: her jacket, embroidered in bright stitching. I was admiring it in the mirror of the band room at the Orpheum—the Orpheum!—when there was a knock at the door.

  It was Rob, the stage manager, escorting Flynn. “Hey, Julie, I’ve got your roadie.”

  Flynn gave me a little wink. “Holograms are good to go, boss.”

  I waved at her. “Best roadie ever.”

  Rob adjusted something in his headset, then turned back to me. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to take you to the stage.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Flynn twirled a laminated card on a lanyard in my face. “See my backstage pass? I had sushi with Brendon Urie!”

  “Good for you. I threw up in the car on the way over.” My stomach was beginning to settle, but just barely.

  “And you still look amazing,” she reassured me. “Are the guys here?”

  And there went my stomach again. “I haven’t seen them.”

  “Maybe they changed their minds and took Caleb’s offer?”

  No way. “No, that’s the last thing they wanted.”

  But wherever they were, I was worried.

  A few minutes later, Rob rapped on the door. “It’s time, Julie!”

  “Thanks! Just a second!” I called out. I turned to Flynn, who looked just as panicked as I did. “Something’s wrong. The guys were getting those jolts pretty bad as I was leaving. And there’s no way they would stand me up again.” I truly believed that.

  Suddenly, it hit me. “They must have run out of time.” A lump formed in my throat.

  “I’m sorry, Jules,” Flynn said, resting a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  “They didn’t cross over. They’re gone. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” I couldn’t bear it. I ran out of the band room, down the hall—past a very startled Rob—and right out the door.

  When I got outside, I was in a back alley. Who knew Sunset Boulevard smelled like cat pee and old takeout containers? Not very glamorous, given that this was my Hollywood rock star dream.

  What do I do? The guys were gone, but the saying was that the show must go on. Could I, though? Did I have it in me? First, I lost my mom. Then, I lost my band. Maybe today was the day I lost my music for good, too.

  I needed a sign. I needed to talk to my mom. The fact that she wasn’t here anymore didn’t even matter.

  I took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you can hear me, Mom. But I can’t handle this. Flynn thinks you’re behind everything … I just don’t know. If I was supposed to help the guys, I didn’t. They’re gone. I’m sorry. They were my friends, my band, they got me back onstage.” A tear slid down my cheek and I swiped it away. “And I know it’s where I belong, but … it just hurts so much. It all happened so fast. The same way it did with you.” Now the tears came faster.

  “I feel like my heart’s been ripped out again. Yet here I am. The biggest club in Hollywood. And I’m even wearing your jacket. And maybe it is because of you, but I can’t do this on my own. I can’t. I just wish you were here.”

  That was the truth of it: raw and pure. I missed my mom. I needed a sign.

  Just then, an elderly woman wandered past me, a bag of groceries in her arms. A bouquet of bright red dahlias peeped out of the bag. Without a word, she stopped and handed me one.

  A shiver went through me. Those were my mom’s favorite flower. That was my answer. The show must go on.

  I ran back inside to where Flynn was desperately trying to reassure a very worried Rob. I held up the flower. “I’m back. I’m going on.”

  To Flynn I whispered, “Signs.”

  The houselights were so bright, I couldn’t make out anyone in the audience. Which was a good thing, because if I had been able to see my dad, Tía, Carlos—not to mention, the sold-out crowd—I might not have been able to go through with this. As it was, my fingers were trembling as I sat down at the keyboard, laying my mom’s dahlia on top of the piano.

  The room was quiet. I cleared my throat and leaned into the microphone. “Hi. I’d like to dedicate this performance to my mom. She’s with me every time I play. Thanks for not giving up on me, Mom.

  “I’d also like to dedicate tonight to three special friends who brought music back into my life. It was their dream to play here. And this song is for anyone who’s lost their way. Don’t give up. Step into your greatness. Stand tall. And thank you.”

  Don’t blink / No, I don’t want to miss it / One thing / And it’s back to the beginning / ’Cause everything is rushing in fast / Keep going on, never look back

  This was it, my song, my moment, the music filling me like air—like joy—and as much as I missed the guys, in this moment, the music was everything. And it was enough.

  Whatever happens / Even if I’m the last standing / I’mma stand tall / I’mma stand tall

  And then—

  With a flash of light, suddenly a drumbeat dropped. Then my jaw did, along with everyone else’s in the audience. It was the guys! They’d made it. They were here! We were playing the Orpheum together! (And not for nothing, but Luke looked good in a vintage tuxedo.)

  We looked at one another and my heart swelled. This moment was complete. We all felt it. We made one another whole again.

  Like I’m glowing in the dark / I keep on going when it’s all falling apart / Yeah, I know with all my heart / Ooh, ooh / Never look back

  But it wasn’t falling apart, it was coming back together, at last. When the song ended, I turned to the guys. “I’m gonna miss you.”

  “Not as much as we’re gonna miss you,” Luke said.

  We grabbed hands to take a bow, and the boys started to glow, brighter and brighter while the audience’s cheers rose.

  Then they were gone, at last.

  Forever.

  Everything coming together, everything falling apart.

  There was a special kind of quiet to the garage when I wandered inside after the show. It was a different type of empty, knowing that the guys were gone for good. I wondered what it was like, where they were. If they felt happy, complete. Because that was how I was feeling after our amazing night—even though I’d always miss them, I’d never forget them.

  I whispered into the air. “I know I said it before, but thanks, guys.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Reggie’s voice echoed through the garage and made me jump.

  “You guys are here?” I looked around and realized they were hiding in the shadows of the studio. “I thought …”

  They flickered just then, Luke dropping to his knees.

  “Oh no. I thought you crossed over. Why didn’t you cross over?” And what did we do now? Judging from that last jolt, they were still getting worse.

  “Playing the Orpheum must not have been our unfinished business,” Alex said, rubbing his wrist and wincing.

  “We wanted you to think we’d crossed over, so we pretended to. We just didn’t know where else to go,” Luke said.

  “We thought you’d go straight to bed,” Reggie said, looking disappointed that I hadn’t.

  “I knew you’d come out here, but no one listens to me,” Alex said, miffed.

>   “Okay, you have to save yourselves,” I said. “You have to go join Caleb’s club right now. It’s better than not existing at all. Get up. Poof out! Do something!” I couldn’t bear the thought of losing them again, but watching them suffer was way worse.

  “Sorry, not going back there,” Reggie said. “No way.”

  “We got a taste of playing for Caleb, and it wasn’t worth it,” Alex said. “We couldn’t stay there. We won’t.”

  “The only music worth making is the music we made with you, Julie,” Luke said. “No regrets.”

  My eyes filled with tears. “I love you guys.” I moved to hug Luke. But when I did …

  “How come I can feel you?” And I could—his body, sturdy and warm, pressed against mine.

  “I don’t know. I think I’m getting stronger. Guys!”

  Reggie and Alex joined in the group hug. “Whoa,” Reggie said. “I don’t feel weak anymore!”

  “Me, neither,” Alex said. “Not that I was ever that weak.”

  We pulled apart, looking at one another in confusion. The boys reached for their wrists in unison. I watched in shock as Caleb’s stamp glowed, then floated up off their skin, disintegrating in the air.

  “What does that mean?” I asked, not daring to hope. “Are you real?”

  “We were always real,” Alex sniffed. “But now … maybe … we’re here?”

  “But, for how long?” Reggie asked, looking stunned. “Will we still be solid tomorrow? What about the day after that?”

  Luke looked at us all, his eyes bright. “I mean, I definitely don’t have the answers,” he said, his voice hoarse. “But I think the band just got back together.”

  “Can we try that hug thing again?” Alex asked.