“I do not.”

He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans in to stare into my eyes.

“Yes, you do. I’ll admit, it suits you well. You should be a troublemaker more often.”

The four of us sit down in composition class. The last thing I need is those three giving me grief for my date on Wednesday with Tyler.

Thankfully, Mr. North starts class, which is the only thing that can quiet Jack down (somewhat). But he keeps tugging on my hair as Mr. North fills us in on the next CPA concert.

“Okay, guys, the alumni concert is coming up. I don’t need to remind you that some of our most prestigious alumni, and those with the deepest pockets, come each year to be wowed by the students. Now that you’re seniors, you get the privilege of putting on the show. The theme this year is Icons. Each performance will need to feature an icon or an iconic piece from one of the decades since CPA was founded. A representative from each group needs to come up and pick a decade out of the hat.”

Jack gets up for us and takes a piece of paper out of the hat. He unfolds it and nods his head with a big smile on his face. He shows Mr. North the paper and holds it out to us as he comes back to his seat. “The eighties.”

The other four groups pick their decades, and Mr. North reminds us that this is the last all-school performance before the showcase audition invitations are handed out.

“Okay,” Ethan starts us off. “We’ve got to make a statement here. I’m thinking that whatever we choose, it should be something loud, something big, very rock-heavy. Last year I wanted to fall asleep from all the power ballads. Just because some of the alumni are elderly, it doesn’t mean that we can’t spice things up.”

We all agree. Plus, being loud always helps me with any nerves I have onstage. Churning out big power chords fast has a calming effect on me. I’m probably the only person who finds performing punk music therapeutic.

“Why don’t we put a punk spin on whatever song we choose?” I say.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack agrees.

We throw out names of the eighties’ musical icons: Madonna, Prince, Bruce Springsteen, The Police, and so on. Until we settle on the biggest of them all.

Michael Jackson.

Ben hits his hand against the table. “I’ve got it. ‘Beat It.’ It’s got the sick guitar lick and solo. Ethan, I know you can take it to the next level. Plus, Jack can hash out an intense beat on the drum, and Emme and I will keep up just fine.”

It’s unanimous. I pull out The Calendar and start to figure out practice times.

“Man, I’m excited about this.” Jack is already tapping out a beat with his fingers. “I want to start working on it ASAP. What’s everybody’s week like? If we get even a basic idea down, maybe we can do a rough version at our gig on Friday night?”

“I’m free,” Ben offers.

“Me, too,” Ethan says with his eyes closed. I know he’s figuring out his part in his head.

“Yeah. Me, too, except for Wednesday.”

All three of them look at me. “What’s Wednesday?” Jack’s got one eyebrow raised.

“I have plans.”

Jack scoffs. “Plans? With who?”

“Am I not allowed to have plans that don’t involve you guys?”

“No,” they say in unison.

“Whatever.”

Jack, never one to let things go, prods on. “Sophie? Carter?”

“No, I … Okay, I’ll tell you, but please don’t make a big deal about it.”

Jack gasps. “Emme Connelly, do you have a date?”

“Oh, just forget it.”

“We certainly will not forget it.”

“Fine, I’m going to dinner with Tyler. Happy?”

Jack shakes his head. “Nicely done, Red.”

I pull out The Calendar to write up our practice schedule until the concert in three weeks. Ben spends the rest of the class grilling me on my date, with Jack making disparaging comments. And Ethan keeps his eyes closed for the rest of the time.

At least one of them respects what little privacy I have.


Over the past three years, I’ve had to audition seven times to be a student at CPA, I’ve performed countless times as part of an assignment or with the band, and now I’m singing on an album that will serve as my senior thesis … not to mention part of my application to the top music school in the country.

However, I don’t think anything has made me as nervous as walking into the bistro where I’m meeting Tyler.

He stands up from the table where he’s waiting for me. His wavy brown hair is just slightly shorter than Ethan’s and he’s sporting just the right amount of stubble. He’s got his normal outfit of dark jeans with a button-down shirt — this time it’s white with thin black stripes.

He greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a hug.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

I smile at him as I put my shaking hands in my lap. Sophie was busy, so Ben came over and helped me pick out my outfit: black leggings with a long, gray sweater, and black riding boots. He said I looked classic, yet contemporary.

We make small talk about class and music assignments. Tyler is applying to most of the same schools as Ethan and I.

“I submitted my application to Juilliard yesterday,” he says as our pasta entrées arrive. “I thought I was going to throw up.”

“Me, too,” I confide. “I stood there in front of the mailbox for what seemed like an eternity. Ethan had to pry the envelope out of my hand.”

“Oh.” Tyler picks at his fettuccini. “I guess I should have assumed that he’s applying as well. Not like he needs Juilliard. You know, I thought you guys were a couple for the longest time. He’s always around you.”

This isn’t the first time that somebody thought this about us. But he’s pretty shy when he’s not onstage, so he only really talks to me and the other members of the band. Nobody ever seems to think he’s with Ben, though. Which always irritates Ben. I smile as I think of Ben saying “What? Like I couldn’t get you if I really tried?”

“What’s so funny?” Tyler asks.

“Oh, just thinking of something. Anyway, Ethan’s one of my closest friends. All the guys in the band are.”

Tyler nods knowingly. “I wish I could say the same for the rest of the piano section. But there’s usually only a need for one pianist. Not a way to make good friends.”

“I can only imagine.”

Tyler lets out a laugh. “Yeah, it isn’t pretty. Although I think the vocal department is worse. I accompany Sarah Moffitt a lot, so I’ve heard some interesting stories.”

I nod since I’ve heard a lot of stories, many of them about Sarah, from Sophie. I realize every day how lucky I am to be in my department. Sure, we compete for songs against each other, but there’s never been any sabotage … at least that I’m aware of.

“So what are you auditioning with?” I decide to change the subject away from the vocal department.

Tyler begins to enthusiastically go over his audition pieces. We don’t discuss CPA for the rest of the meal.

As he walks me to the subway, he holds my hand. We walk slowly for several blocks, and as we approach the entrance, butterflies start swirling in my stomach.

“Are you going to be okay getting home?” He steps out of the way of pedestrians coming from an arriving train.

I nod my head. “Yes. Thanks for dinner.”

He takes a step toward me and cups his hand around my chin. He leans in and kisses me gently. “Call me when you get home.”

Since I’ve apparently become mute, I nod again.

I practically float through the turnstile and back to Brooklyn.


We decide to run through “Beat It” during our sound check on Friday night. We’re the second of three acts performing at the Ravine, a new concert venue in the Village. It’s the biggest place we’ve played, the stage is a lot bigger than we’re used to … and higher up.

“No stage diving, Red,” Jack says as he looks down at the five feet that separate the stage and the floor. We’re used to being on a small riser.

Ethan keeps going over his guitar solo. His fingers are moving so fast, I don’t think any of us will be able to keep up with him.

“You know,” Ben says once Ethan stops, “I don’t think we should play it tonight. It’s not that I don’t think we could do a good job or anything, but I’d rather keep what we’re doing a surprise until the alumni concert.”

“Good point,” Jack agrees. “Best to floor everybody then.” He rearranges the set list a few more times before it’s done. Since there’ll be more people here — most likely for the headlining band — we’re starting off with a few covers to warm up the crowd before we do our original songs.

We head back to our dressing room. Everybody starts with their pre-concert rituals. Jack and Ben play video games and fake argue with each other. I do homework (I’m so hardcore!) and Ethan paces around.

A cheer erupts from Ben as Jack throws down his controller. “Oh, I didn’t realize we could cheat,” Jack says drily.

Ben gets up and does a small dance. “You’re such a sore loser.”

Jack crosses his arms and pulls his bottom lip out.

Ben turns his back on him. “Emme, Ethan, I’m going to check out the first band; you guys want to join?” He then looks over at Jack. “You are of course welcome, Sir Pouts-a-Lot.”

Ben heads out of the dressing room, and the three of us follow him. As soon as we exit the room, we see Chloe approaching us with Carter … and Tyler.

“Where are you guys off to?” Chloe goes over to Jack and gives him a hug. His pout evaporates and he wraps his arms around her. Ah, young love. “We wanted to wish you good luck!”