Best. Night. Ever.

by Rachele Alpine

  I step up to the two of them and stand as tall as I can, so I look all big and tough. Well, as big and tough as it’s possible to look in this ridiculous dress.

  “First,” I say, “I’m here to watch Heart Grenade’s concert, and Jackson wanted to see it too. Second, if we broke in, then you did too, because you’re standing in here with us.”

  “We were trying to find where you snuck off to. We aren’t breaking in,” Alex shoots back.

  I shrug. “If you say so. Try explaining that to Mom and Dad.”

  Alex opens his mouth to argue, but before he can, Lucas shouts, “Look! You’re on TV, Carmen!”

  I turn to the computer screen and he’s right. There’s a picture of the Battle of the Bands on the site to promote Heart Grenade’s upcoming performance. A tiny pang of sadness grips me, because this night is so big for them and I can’t believe I’m not there.

  “Can we stay? Please?” Lucas begs. “I promise we won’t say anything to Mom and Dad.”

  I let out a sigh of frustration. Why do my brothers have to ruin everything? But it probably will be easier to let them stay, because if I kick them out, I’m almost certain they’ll run right to Mom and Dad.

  “All right,” I finally say. “But you have to be quiet.”

  “We will,” Lucas says, and Alex nods in agreement.

  I’m not completely sure I can trust them, but something has to go right for me tonight, doesn’t it?

  I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Tess.

  You’re going to be AMAZING! You own that stage! Wow them all!

  I cross my fingers and hope for good reception so it reaches Tess before showtime.

  My brothers bump into me as they try to get closer to the computer screen, but it doesn’t matter. In fact, right now nothing else matters, because my girls are about to make history and rock Lynnfield Middle School!

  GENEVIEVE { 9:46 P.M. }

  I CROUCH ON THE SCUFFED tile floor of the haunted bathroom, sweaty hands gripping the toilet seat, face hovering above the antiseptic-blue water. My stomach is churning, but I can’t tell if I’m actually going to be sick or if I only think I am because Abby and Ilana and Shanti put the idea in my head earlier. It’s probably not even possible to throw up when you’ve only had three bites of food the entire day. I certainly hope it’s not, because there are tons of girls in this bathroom, swapping lip gloss and shrieking as the automatic sinks turn on and off at random. Gossip travels at light speed around here, and if someone hears me puking, literally everyone will know about it in five minutes. I want the rest of my class to see a fierce, confident singer when I get up onstage, not a sick girl to be pitied.

  I know I need to go back to the chorus room; Mariah’s waiting for me to teach her the backup part to “Hear Us Roar.” She’s way more unprepared for this performance than I am. But I’m not ready to leave this stall yet. Maybe I’d feel a little better if Sydney were here to guard the door and pass me wet paper towels and mints, like she did that time I freaked out before our debate for history class. But she’s off doing other stuff, like she has been all night.

  One dance with Kevin turned into two and then four and then six. Then there was a fifteen-minute girl huddle, which was mostly Abby, Shanti, and Ilana repeating, “Oh my God, can you believe Ellie actually thought Kevin was her date?” and cackling hysterically. Syd didn’t really seem to think it was funny either, but it’s not like she backed me up when I chimed in from just outside the circle and said I thought it was mean. And when Kevin came back and asked if she wanted to dance some more, she smiled and went with him.

  I can’t believe she still likes him, knowing he’s the kind of person who would prank a girl just because she’s an easy target.

  I can’t believe she didn’t even stop dancing long enough to give me a good-luck hug before I left with the band.

  This is seriously the worst night ever.

  “Genevieve?” calls a voice over the noise of the bathroom, and for a second I perk up. Maybe Syd is here to find me after all. But then the voice says my name again, and I realize it’s Mariah. She sounds a little frantic. I really need to pull myself together and help her like I said I would.

  I do one last check-in with my stomach, and it seems like my three bites of food are going to stay put. So I stand, brush off the knees of my tights, and open the stall door.

  “There you are!” Mariah rushes over and grabs my arm. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I need to go over the backup part with you! We only have twenty minutes!”

  Only twenty minutes. My stomach flips again, and I almost spin around and shut myself back in the stall. But Mariah’s got a pretty firm grip on me.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Let me wash my hands first.”

  I squeeze between a couple of girls and glance at my reflection in the mirror as I pump the last remnants of watery soap out of the dispenser. I look clammy and miserable, which makes me wish I hadn’t checked. I try three different sinks before I find a sensor that responds to my waving hands, and then the water blasts out so hard I have to leap out of the way before it splashes all over my skirt. I pat my cheeks with cold water carefully so I don’t ruin what little mascara I managed to put on, and then I follow Mariah out of the bathroom.

  Her legs aren’t any longer than mine, but she walks toward the chorus room so quickly I practically have to jog to keep up. “Okay, so the beginning starts quiet, right? I just go ooooooh while you sing the first few lines, and then I go up on the harmony for ‘standing on my own two feet,’ right? And then is it ‘I won’t let them get me down’ or ‘We won’t let them get us down’?”

  She’s talking so fast it’s making me dizzy. Or maybe I’m dizzy because I’m nervous, like Abby’s mom at her grandmother’s funeral. Or maybe it’s because I’ve hardly eaten anything. There’s a granola bar in my locker, but if I eat it to help with the dizziness, I probably will throw up after all.

  “Genevieve!” Mariah waves a hand in front of my face, and I flinch. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to yell. But are you even listening to me?”

  “I’m listening,” I say. Mariah can be so bossy sometimes. “It’s ‘We won’t let them get us down.’ Do you want to sing through the whole thing with me, and I can tell you if you’re doing any of it wrong?”

  “Yeah, okay,” Mariah says. She reaches for the door of the chorus room, but then there’s a burst of laughter and shouting from inside, and she drops her hand. “Ugh, they’re being superloud. Let’s just do it out here.”

  I nod, clear my throat, tap my foot to set the tempo, and start singing the first verse of “Hear Us Roar.” I’ve practiced this song a billion times alone in my bedroom, and the lyrics come to me without even thinking. But my voice sounds wrong, flat and faraway, like my head is wrapped in a bunch of blankets. I try to correct it, but I don’t seem to have any control. Mariah isn’t looking at me weird or anything, so it must not sound as strange as I think. Of course, that’s almost worse, knowing the problem is inside my brain.

  I try to ignore it and help Mariah fix the few things she’s doing wrong with the backup part. Unfortunately, it’s pretty hard to concentrate when I keep imagining what will happen if I get up onstage and suddenly can’t control my voice at all. What if I go temporarily deaf out of panic? Is that even possible?

  Somehow, we get all the way through “Hear Us Roar.” When we finish, someone says, “That sounded good,” and I spin around to find Tess in the doorway of the chorus room, scrolling through something on her phone. I didn’t even hear her come out; she must’ve told Faith and Claudia to be quiet so she could listen.

  “Really?” Mariah and I ask at the same time. Then we both laugh, and the pressure in my chest eases a little.

  “Yeah, really,” Tess says, straight to Mariah. “If it sounded bad, you know I’d tell you.” I wish she’d say something reassuring to me, too, but Tess doesn’t hand out compliments unless you really deserve them.

  Tess looks back down at her scre
en. “Hey, Genevieve, you’re friends with Sydney, right?”

  “Me? Yeah.” I reach up and touch the music-note necklace, the only proof I have from tonight that we actually are friends.

  “Are she and Kevin actually a thing? He’s so basic. Did you hear what he did to Ellie? What a creep.”

  “What? No, they’re not . . . I mean, Syd was dancing with him earlier, but that’s it.”

  “Then what’s this about?” Tess holds up her screen so I can see Ilana’s latest Instagram post. It’s a picture of Syd and Kevin on the dance floor, and even though it was taken from far away, it’s still pretty obvious that they’re kissing.

  The caption reads, OTP!!!!!!! It already has forty-three likes and seventeen comments.

  I fumble in my pocket for my own phone. I haven’t felt it buzz all night, but if Syd couldn’t find me in person, she definitely would’ve texted to tell me she’d had her very first kiss. There are probably, like, eighteen lines of hearts and exclamation points waiting on my screen; she gets kind of emoji-crazy when she’s superexcited. When her family got their dog, she literally sent me two hundred dog emojis in a row. And a dog isn’t even as big of a deal as this.

  I hit the home button.

  I have no new messages.

  “I . . . um . . .” I stammer, but I can’t get any more words out, even though Tess and Mariah are both staring at me with raised eyebrows. The hallway is overheated, but I shiver a little.

  Tess looks back down at her phone, then back up at me. “What? Is there a problem? I mean, besides Kevin being King of the Jerks. I think he’s even worse than Leif.”

  The problem is that sadness and betrayal and terror and shame are piling up inside me, and they’re taking up so much space that I’m afraid they’ll block off my airway entirely. But it’s not like I can say that to Tess. She doesn’t understand that not everyone is strong and confident like she is, and she’s not very tolerant of weakness. She once ripped a book right out of Sadie Rosenberg’s hands in English class and took over reading aloud because Sadie kept stumbling over big words.

  “Nothing,” I choke, because I can’t handle her being mad at me on top of everything else. “I’m fine.”

  “You look kind of weird,” Mariah says. “Do you have a headache or something? I have Tylenol in here.” She opens her small purse and looks through it. “Or do you want a cough drop? Gum? A Band-Aid? Or—”

  “Why do you have all that stuff in there?” asks Tess. “You’re like my mom.”

  Mariah shrugs. “I like to be prepared.”

  “I’m fine,” I say again.

  Ms. Huff comes out of the gym and strides down the hallway toward us, carrying a Hula-Hoop. “You ladies good to go?” she calls. “We’ll be ready for you onstage in a few minutes!”

  “Yeah, be right there!” Tess shouts back, and then she turns to us. “Come on. Preshow ritual. I’ll lead since Carmen’s not here.”

  She herds us into the chorus room, and Claudia and Faith stand up and hold out their arms like we’re going to have a group hug. I follow Tess over to them, and they pull Mariah and me into a tight huddle. Faith’s arm clamps around my waist on one side, Mariah’s on the other, and even though we’re in a wide-open room, I start to feel trapped and claustrophobic. I have no idea what’s about to happen; I’ve only been in the band for one other performance, and they must’ve done this part before I got there.

  “Foot in the middle,” Tess says. Everyone else is already touching toes in the center of the circle, so I extend my green-sneakered foot. It looks childish next to the other girls’ boots and high heels.

  Tess counts off, and the girls start chanting.

  Feet . . . to . . . feet! We’ve got that beat, can’t stop that beat!

  Hip . . . to . . . hip! We’re tougher than a battleship!

  Back . . . to . . . back! We’re serious as a heart attack!

  Head . . . to . . . head! We’ll make music till we’re dead!

  Talented and unafraid!

  Who are we? WE’RE HEART GRENADE!

  There are full-body movements that go along with the chant, but I don’t know any of them, so I concentrate on staying on my feet as the other girls fling me back and forth like a rag doll. It makes me feel nauseated all over again. Mariah doesn’t know what’s going on either, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. She just bounces up and down to the beat of the chant and bops her head like she’s totally a part of things already.

  I don’t think I’ve ever stood so close to a group of people and felt so far away from them at the same time.

  Everyone cheers when the chant ends, and then they pull apart. Faith slings her bass over her shoulder, Claudia grabs her guitar, and Tess takes her drumsticks out of her boot. They all push into the hall and head for the gym, toward our television debut.

  Mariah holds the door for me. “Ready?” she asks.

  I’ve never been less ready for anything in my entire life.

  “Yes,” I say.

  RYAN { 9:58 P.M. }

  TONIGHT IS TURNING OUT TO be a total waste. If not for Mariah, I’d probably be home in front of the TV, watching anything but this. Instead, here I stand with a bunch of guys from Social Studies, listening to them make fun of the way everyone else dances. Leif is one of those guys.

  They all seem to find it funny that Leif was hiding first behind a plant and then behind Chris, like a scared little kid. I would give him a hard time about it too, but what would be the point? They’re being big enough jerks for all of us. I also feel like I need to stick close to Leif tonight so I can keep him away from Mariah. Since my usual guy friends opted to stay home instead of coming to the dance tonight, this is the group I’m stuck with.

  So I settle in with them. Maybe their jerky guy-dom will rub off on me. Leif obviously has something that girls like. After a few minutes of watching them make mean jokes about people and laugh obnoxiously, I decide that maybe that’s what I’m missing. Maybe I need to be a jerk in order for Mariah to see me as more than a friend.

  A new day. A new Ryan.

  I smile to myself and watch the fun. There are a bunch of kids yanking our streamers down, but I don’t stop them. Saving Mariah’s decorations is something the old Ryan would do. The new Ryan doesn’t do a thing. Leif gives me a look—he knows that Mariah and I are on the decoration committee—but when I don’t say anything, he joins the others in ripping down streamers as well.

  “Isn’t the band about to go on?” Chris asks Leif after a while. “Maybe you should go find your girlfriend.”

  “Which one?” I ask, feeling like someone punched me in the gut. Did he just call Mariah Leif’s girlfriend? Or was he talking about Tess?

  All the guys burst into laughter, and Chris even punches Leif playfully in the arm. Leif’s cheeks have a light pink tinge. He’s . . . embarrassed?

  “It’s okay, dude, just hide behind the plant over there,” Leif’s friend Shawn says. “We’ll cover for you if Tess comes back.”

  That brings another round of laughs. I laugh along with them, taking mental notes on how to be a jerk. They snort and punch one another and hunch their shoulders like they’re ready to fight. All along, Leif just keeps smiling, not a care in the world.

  “Here comes Mariah,” one of the guys says, reminding me why I’m trying to be a jerk in the first place. My heart skips a beat, but that’s okay. I can still like Mariah. I just have to be chill about it.

  By the time Mariah makes her way over to us, Leif has vanished. I don’t even know where. Maybe he found something else to hide behind.

  Mariah has a huge smile on her face. I haven’t seen her this happy since . . . ever. Too bad I’m not the reason for her happiness.

  Play it cool, man.

  “I have to tell you something!” she gushes as she comes to a stop in front of me. “You won’t believe it!”

  “Hmph,” I say, trying to sound bored.

  She motions for me to follow her as she steps off to the side. I decide to g
o; otherwise she’ll just be standing by herself and it’ll be awkward.

  “I’m an official member of Heart Grenade!” she squeals. “Well, just a backup singer and just for tonight, but still . . . Tess invited me. Can you believe it? Not that we’re BFFs or anything.”

  Wow. Okay. So Mariah and Tess have suddenly ended their major war? All those years of listening to Mariah freak out over Tess—not to mention all the stuff that happened tonight—and one fifteen-minute conversation fixes everything?

  Girls are weird.

  She stays silent, and I realize she’s looking to me for a reaction. What would a jerk do? I have no idea. All I want to do is let her know I’m excited for her. This being-a-jerk thing is supertough.

  I try to imagine what Leif would do. Probably say That’s great in a distracted voice and turn back to his friends. Or go hide behind a plant.

  “Whatever,” I say with the most disinterested expression I can manage. I focus on the area behind her as if I’m looking for a better conversation.

  “What’s wrong? Are you mad at me?” Mariah asks.

  The sad expression on her face makes me feel a little sick. It looks like she might have tears welling in her eyes. I don’t want to hurt her. I never want to hurt her.

  But I won’t give in; if I do that, I’ll just go back to being the guy whose shoulder she cries on. The one who will never be more than just a friend.

  I can’t be that guy anymore.

  “Nope,” I say, still without looking at her. I try to ignore the guilt weighing on me.

  Tess is across the gym, standing on tiptoe, looking around. It’s just the break I need.

  “I think they’re waiting for you,” I say. And just for good measure, I roll my eyes.

  I turn my back to her and try to push back into the group I’d been hanging with before. Only problem? They’ve closed up their circle and it’s kind of awkward getting back in.