by Anita Oh
Koko snorted, and the three of them started walking off set together. “You’re too nice, Peg. If she’d known what she was doing, we’d have been out of here hours ago. It’ll be midnight before we get home.”
Audrey gave Peg a questioning look. She’d assumed that the photo shoot was their last job of the day.
“We’re supposed to start working on our song today,” Peg said. “Then we have dance rehearsals.”
Audrey didn’t know which part of that to be horrified at — the singing, the dancing, or the lack of dinner. She’d thought having a full-time job would at least mean three meals a day.
Everything became dull as they crossed past the lighting and into the ordinary world. Audrey had to blink a few times for her eyes to adjust, and when they did, she saw Thorne scowling at her.
“You’ll obviously need a lot of training before you can sing,” said Koko. “Since you can barely speak.”
That was one of the things Audrey was the most worried about. Even when she tried to speak, her voice was faint. Each word was a massive effort. Singing a whole song seemed impossible.
“Our voice coach is very good,” said Peg. “I’m sure she’ll have you on track in no time.”
Thorne huffed, then stalked off toward the lift without waiting for the rest of them.
“Even if Audrey strengthens her voice and becomes a decent singer, it’s pointless if she doesn’t match with the three of you,” said the president. “We’ll go over the new song today, then do some assessments.”
The tenth floor was divided up into recording booths and voice training spaces. Audrey peeked through the windows in the doors as they walked down the corridor, curious about how things worked. Some of the booths were small, with only one or two microphones hanging down from the ceiling. Others were bigger, with instruments like pianos or drums set up inside them. Each booth had a window through to a smaller room at the side which was full of technical equipment. Some of the training spaces had microphones and music stands, but a lot only had tables and chairs. The president led them into a larger one of those. Two people were already sitting at the table: a small lady with dark skin and huge eyes, and an older man with long gray hair. The president introduced them as Suzie, the voice coach, and Joe, the music director.
“This is your debut song,” Joe said, handing them each a sheet of paper with the words SUPER EXPLOSION! printed at the top. “Read over the lyrics, then I’ll play you the demo.”
Audrey didn’t know a lot about music, but the lyrics seemed kind of lame to her.
Supernova!/Explode into your dreams!/Look up at the sky and you’ll see us there/Shining just for you!
For a start, it didn’t seem scientifically accurate. It seemed wrong to give out false information through song. From the looks on the others’ faces, they weren’t impressed either. Thorne clenched his jaw, and Koko’s face was screwed up like she’d eaten a lemon.
“It probably sounds great with the music, though, right?” Peg said, smiling around at them.
Joe nodded and pressed a button on a tiny remote control. Cheery pop music blasted into the room from the speakers mounted in each corner. The tune was so super catchy, Audrey thought she’d probably never get it out of her head.
“We wanted something dynamic for your first song,” said Joe. “Attention-grabbing.”
It certainly was that. Together with the music, the lameness of the lyrics wasn’t so obvious. There was a bit near the end that Audrey particularly liked, where the melody faded out so there was only the drumbeat, and the vocalists did a kind of chant.
Super! Fight for the future!
Super! Never give up!
Super! Take a step forward!
Super! Break down the walls!
Shine on, Supernova!
Even though Audrey couldn’t see how that related to the whole exploding star theme, the message was good, and she liked the drumbeat.
“So?” the president said, once the song had finished playing.
Audrey, Peg and Koko looked to Thorne.
He shrugged. “It’s better than Tempest’s debut song,” he said. “I’m fine with it.”
They played the song through a few more times, Audrey watching on as the rest of them discussed who would sing each part and how to approach it.
“Good,” the president said after they’d listened to the song five times in a row. “I’ll give you the next few days to rehearse, since it’s your first song, then you can start recording on Monday.”
“What about Audrey?” said Thorne. “Do you really think she’ll be ready by then?”
Everyone turned to stare at her.
“I’m sure she’ll be fine once she warms up,” said Peg. “Right, Suzie?”
Suzie looked dubious. “Audrey, can you say ‘la-la-la’ for me?”
It felt as if everyone in the room was holding their breath as Audrey cleared her throat.
“La,” she said, croaking like a toad as she tried to project her voice. “La-la-la.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Thorne muttered, rubbing his forehead with both hands.
“Try to match my pitch,” said Suzie. “La-la-LA-la-la.”
Audrey tried it. This time she sounded more like an angry cat than a toad. She tried it again, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t make her voice sound good. She tried to make her voice go up and down. She tried making it softer. She tried putting all her effort into it, but no matter what she did, it sounded jarring, wrong. It was the most she’d used her voice for as long as she could remember, and it was exhausting.
Eventually, Suzie raised a hand for her to stop. She poured a glass of water from the decanter in the middle of the table and handed it to Audrey.
“What do you think?” the president asked Suzie.
“Honestly?” Suzie said. “It’s going to be a struggle. Realistically, she won’t be ready by Monday. Her vocal cords are weak from disuse, and like any muscle, it will take time to strengthen them. On top of that, she has no instinct for tone or pitch. Even autotune can only do so much. She’ll have to learn the basics. I’ll work with her for an hour every morning and then check in with her again of an evening, but at this point, I can’t even give you an ETA of when she’ll be ready. My advice? Record the song with the other three and add her in later.” She looked Audrey over. “And you — start talking. Short sentences in a gentle voice. Don’t strain yourself, but you need to speak as much as possible. I’ll give you a special tea to drink, and you need to stay away from dairy products, citrus fruit and coffee. Humming is good too.”
“Humming?” Audrey asked.
Suzie demonstrated humming. “I’ll give you some exercises to do when you first wake up. If you work hard and do everything I say, you should be able to record in a week or so. Probably not well, but good enough.”
Thorne took a deep breath.
The president held up a hand to him. “I don’t want to hear it, Thorne.”
“Even so, with all due respect, President, somebody needs to say it,” Thorne said, undeterred. “She can’t sing. She can’t pose. They’re two of the most basic skills of this job. She’s not ready for this. Even if you think she has a bright future, why does it need to be with us? Wouldn’t it be better to have her trained properly first? It’s not fair to us, and it’s not fair to her. She can barely function as a normal human being, let alone someone in the spotlight.”
Again, Audrey noticed that red spark appear behind the president’s sunglasses. If she were Thorne, she’d have been running for the hills, but he just glared. Then the president grinned, and that was even more scary.
“And if there was something she could do, and do well, would you stop complaining?”
Audrey noticed that the president had avoided Thorne’s question about why now, why Supernova.
Thorne shrugged one shoulder. “If there was something she could do as well as the rest of us, I suppose so.”
“Can I take that as a binding agreemen
t?” the president asked.
“Fine, but in exchange, if she can’t do anything, she’s out of the group,” said Thorne.
“Agreed,” said the president, and they shook on it.
Thorne smiled as if he’d already won. “But I don’t see what you think she can do. She’s totally hopeless.”
Audrey could see his point, but she thought he could’ve been a little nicer about it, especially with her sitting right there. It kind of annoyed her that he was acting all superior when she’d been trying her best. Suzie had told her to use her voice as much as possible, so she decided to try it now. Short sentences in a gentle voice.
“That’s mean, Thomas Thorne,” she said. “I can do stuff. I’ll show you.”
She wasn’t sure what stuff. Her skills were more specific to living on the streets, to running and hiding.
“That’s right, Audrey,” the president said, nodding in approval. “Let’s show him.”
They headed to the eleventh floor, which was similar to the tenth, but the rooms were bigger and instead of their being filled with recording equipment, there were polished floorboards and mirrors all around the walls.
“The changing rooms are at the end of the hall,” the president told Audrey. “You can use any of the empty lockers. There’s a supply cupboard near the door with casual clothes. Meet in room 113 after you’ve changed.”
Koko had her own clothes in her own locker and had already changed while Audrey was still looking at all the options in the supply cupboard.
“Just pick anything,” Koko said on her way out. “Hurry up. We can go home after this.”
Audrey picked a pair of black tights with black shorts over the top and a black t-shirt. There were other things, like sweatbands and hair ties and leg warmers and trainers. She wasn’t sure what she’d need, so she put on everything. It was way more comfortable than the pretty dress and high heels.
When she found room 113, nobody else was wearing the sweatbands or the leg warmers. Audrey thought they were missing out, because they were awesome. Thorne and Peg wore t-shirts and track pants, Thorne with a black cap. Peg had a bandanna tied around his head to push the hair back from his face. Koko wore short-shorts and a crop top, with her hair up in her usual pigtails. The three of them were sitting on the floor, stretching out their muscles.
“Such a weirdo,” Thorne muttered, looking over Audrey’s outfit.
Audrey sat on the floor next to Peg and tried to copy what he was doing, with one leg out to the side and bending into it. The stretch along the back of her leg and down her side felt amazing.
The president set a sports drink down on the floor beside Audrey. “It’s important to stay hydrated,” she said. “And also to teach Thorne a lesson.”
“Thanks,” Audrey said, remembering she had to talk as much as possible.
A guy came into the room, sat down opposite Koko, and took hold of her feet to help with her stretches. He was fairly young, maybe early 20s, handsome, and wore a tight t-shirt that showed off his muscles. He had two short horns on top of his head. Audrey wondered if he was a demon. She didn’t know anything about demons. She wondered if they were evil.
“This is my brother, Kento,” Koko said when she noticed Audrey looking. “He’s a choreographer here.”
Kento gave her a little wave.
Audrey raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t realized that Koko was even supernatural, let alone a demon. Without meaning to do it, she tried to look at the top of Koko’s head for horns.
“Yeah, that’s why the pigtails,” Koko said, bending her head and pushing the hair aside so Audrey could see. The horns were small and sharp, kind of like Koko herself. “Not all yokai have them, but they’re pretty common in our family.”
Audrey knew even less about yokai than she did about demons. Were yokai a type of demon? Koko didn’t seem evil, even if she was mean sometimes.
“Let’s get this over with,” Thorne said, jumping to his feet. “The sooner we do this, the sooner Audrey’s out of the group and we can all move on.”
“Wow, Thorne, that’s pretty harsh,” Kento said as he stood up and moved to the middle of the room. “Okay, so, I’ll go through the whole routine for the new song without music, and then I’ll do it again with just the first part. You should be able to pick it up from that.”
“Dancing?” Audrey asked. Dancing seemed even more complicated than standing around like a butterfly.
“Dancing,” said Kento.
As Kento started to move, Audrey realized why the president had bet everything on her being able to do this. It was just like fighting. It made sense to her. It was easy to memorize the movements once she could put them in context; she just had to imagine she was fighting an invisible opponent. Punch to the throat, punch to the throat, kick to the knee, kick to the face, back off.
Kento didn’t put a lot of strength into his punches; his style was more about even timing between each strike and the flow between each movement. It was different from her own fighting style, which was more about speed, but it wouldn’t be hard to adapt. When he finished, he went back through the beginning part again, and for the first time, Audrey felt like she might be able to do something in this new world she’d stumbled into.
“Don’t worry about the formation for now,” said Kento. “Just get the moves right. I’ll count back from three, ready?”
When he said “go”, something clicked in Audrey’s head. It was how she could memorize directions; each movement came back to her perfectly. Although there were mirrors all around, she didn’t see herself, but rather the image of Kento inside her head as he went through each movement. She knew he’d said to do just the first part, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself until she’d finished the entire thing — half compulsion and half to prove that she could.
When she finished and looked around, everyone was staring at her in shock. She wondered if she’d really done that badly. She thought it had been okay, although she might’ve put too much strength into some of the punches.
In the mirror, Audrey saw the president break into that scary grin. “We didn’t actually discuss the terms if Audrey was better than you at something,” she said.
“Fine,” Thorne said through gritted teeth. “She can stay.”
Chapter Eleven
Audrey had thought it would feel nicer to be accepted by Thorne. Instead, it was more like an army drill sergeant accepting her into his boot camp.
“You’ve got some nice moves,” he said as they got back to the house that night. “But all four of us need to be perfectly in sync. Not only our movements, but the tension and angles of our lines. We’ve got a lot to work on. You need to speak more. Talk about anything; it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to be interesting. Look at Peg, he never lets that hold him back. I’ll take you through some basics of modelling, too. And you’ll need media coaching.”
“Well, I think we should eat first,” Peg said, walking ahead of them to get to the dining room.
“Yeah, Thorne. All that can wait until tomorrow.” Koko rolled her eyes at him and followed Peg.
The dining room was down the hall from the living area, a large room with a long table down the middle, and a door at the end through to the kitchen. An elaborate iron chandelabra hung low over the table, and the walls were covered with paintings of food. Even though it was late, the dining room was still crowded. Audrey hesitated by the door.
“You can’t avoid people forever,” Thorne said, giving her a little push into the room. “Social skills are also an important part of being a superstar.”
Peg snorted. “That’s rich, coming from you. You hate people.”
The table was filled with every kind of food Audrey could imagine. It was the food, more than Thorne’s prodding, that convinced her to follow the others to some spare seats at far end of the table.
“I told you,” said a girl with chocolate-brown curls who was sitting opposite them.
She was staring at Audrey, but Audrey figur
ed she must be talking to someone else, because Audrey had no clue who she was or what she was talking about. Also, Audrey was too busy loading up her plate with mashed potatoes.
“There must be another explanation,” said the boy beside her, who had the same chocolate hair and green eyes. The two of them wore matching orange sweaters with ribbon threaded around the neckline and bows on the sleeves.
Audrey turned to Peg, pointing her thumb at the two across the table in question.
“Don’t answer her, Peg,” said Thorne. “She needs to use her words.”
Audrey swallowed a mouthful of potato. “You’re bossy,” she told Thorne. Then she glanced back across the table. “They’re weird.”
“They’re ‘Maddie & Matt’,” Thorne told her. “They like to flatter themselves that they’re our competition, but they’re not nearly talented enough.”
Audrey looked back over at them. She hadn’t considered things like rivalry or competition. It seemed like a waste of energy.
“So, it’s true, then?” asked Maddie. “The president’s shipped in this new girl, and she’s going to debut the four of you as Supernova?”
When Audrey looked down the table, all eyes were on her. Most of them were younger, some just kids. Not many were as old as the members of Supernova or Maddie & Matt. She wondered how many of them had powers and if any were evil. The law of averages said that in a group this size, at least one of them had to be evil, maybe as many as half, depending on how you judged it. She’d have to stay on her toes.
She helped herself to some roasted potatoes. With a side of fries.
“I heard she was a stripper in Canada,” said a tiny kid down at the other end of the table.
Audrey snorted.
“I heard she’s Taylor Swift’s body double!” said someone else.
“I heard she’s the girl in the pictures with Eli Gale,” said Maddie.
“I heard a note of jealousy in your voice just now, Maddie,” Koko said, smirking across the table at her. “What’s wrong? Eli stopped accepting your fan mail?”
There was a potato casserole down the table, just out of Audrey’s reach. It looked really delicious, all cheesy and potatoey. Potatoes were such an amazing food. So adaptable.
