Garage Band
Tate F.
"Focus, guys!" I exclaim as the band erupts into more giggles. "I don't understand what's so funny!"
Tori looks at me over her silver drum set, tears running from her green eyes and face almost split open by a smile. "Nothing! It's just, that guitar solo was like…."
"Like what?" I glare at her.
"Like over the top, Liz," Piper says from behind her bass, her voice quiet but amused. Violet stifles a giggle.
I roll my eyes. "Okay, so what if I got a little lost in it? We have to feel our music. The gig is in two days! And not just any gig…It's the Battle!"
Violet turns to me. "Okay, we get it. But I think you took your dad's advice on stage presence a little too seriously." She plays a dissonant chord on the keyboard for emphasis.
I sigh, running my fingers over the strings on my Fender Jaguar. "You're right. We can pretend like it never happened. I guess I just really want to win after last year."
Last year's big failure had made us all a little less sure of ourselves. My voice had still been layered with an unnatural vibrato, making it sound like I was singing from one of those quivering massage chairs. Violet hadn't been with us then. It had just been Tori, Piper, and me. Since then, Piper and I had switched instruments. We'd also gotten a lot stronger since we'd gained a keyboardist.
Despite that, we're still nervous about the huge Battle of the Bands our music school holds every year.
"Okay, let's try it again." I say, pressing my mouth to the microphone. A cool breeze ripples through Tori's garage as she counts us off.
"One, two, three, four!"
G major, E minor, C major, A major, G major, E minor C major, D major. This isn't a classic chord progression, but that's why we like it. It feels right to us, even if it sounds wrong to other people. After sixteen counts of this, I lean into the mic.
Our song is about being young. It may sound a little stupid, but it's a big part of who we are. We blast Green Day in our rooms, and Nirvana in our headphones on the way to school. We eat junk food, go to movies, fall in love, forget about homework, and put colored streaks in our hair. We look at the students around us, and without thinking about it, we judge them. I'm sure they do the same when looking at us. But whatever we felt then, jealously or hatred or irritation, we plan to sing for them on Saturday night like they are the kings and queens and we are their humble servants. If we sing for them, maybe we can avoid making the same mistakes as last year. Maybe "Divided Highway" could actually win.
At five o'clock, we pack up our instruments (except for Tori, of course). I walk out of the garage after saying goodbye to the band and put my headphones on. I listen to '1985' by Bowling for Soup.
Springsteen, Madonna,
Way before Nirvana
There was U2 and Blondie
And music still on MTV
Her two kids in high school
They tell her that she's uncool
'Cause she's still preoccupied
With 1985
* * * * *
The next day is a Friday. Everybody's in a good mood and there's no homework. This usually means no stress, but right now I'm freaking out. It's lunchtime and the band is meeting in the music room to practice. Tori is already jamming on the school drum set when I get there, short brown curls flying into her face. She looks up as I walk in, holding the cymbals to quiet them.
"Hey," she greets me.
"Hey. Anyone else here yet?" I ask her as I walk towards the instrument storage room to get my guitar.
"Nope, just me." We both hear rapid footsteps and Piper barges into the room.
"Hi guys! Sorry I'm late," she says.
"You're not," says Tori. "Vi's not here yet."
I walk out of the dim, dusty storage room with my Fender as Piper pushes open the creaky door to get her bass.
"Can somebody get the keyboard set up?" I ask.
Tori stares at me pointedly.
"Fine. I got it." I say and move to turn on the big amp.
Twenty-five minutes pass and we're still waiting for Violet.
"Where is she?" Piper grumbles.
"I don't know. She was definitely here this morning." I answer. Violet is never late. In fact, she's usually the one most excited about practicing. "The bell's going to ring any minute."
Tori doesn't talk, but she looks upset. We all look up as we hear giggling coming from the hallway. Violet waltzes in with a grin.
"Run into traffic?" I say sarcastically. But I'm mad. There might as well have been smoke spiraling out of my ears. Violet is never late. But here she is, a goofy smile frozen on her face that makes her look like a Barbie doll.
"Who, me? Nope." Says Violet, clearly oblivious to the situation. "Oh. Am I late? Sorry."
"Where were you?" Piper is looking at her shoes, her face a mask of hurt and anger.
"I was just…" Now Violet looks confused. She rubs a piece of her bright blue hair between her fingers nervously. Tori is still silent. "I can help you guys set up."
"Forget it, Vi. The bell's about to ring." I pull the guitar strap from over my head and set it down in its case. I zip up the case and shove it back into the instrument locker room. My head is spinning with mixed emotions. I've been in this band for four years, so I can be late just this once. I can apologize and offer to help clean up and it would be forgotten in a few days. Violet hasn't even been with the band for a year. She should have realized that this is a commitment. She can't miss a practice and apologize in a way that makes it sound like she doesn't know what she did wrong, especially the day before the Battle of the Bands.
"We can meet at my house today. I'll see you later." I call over my shoulder as I exit the room. My voice is in a monotone. I don't want to fight.
* * * * *
Later that day, "Divided Highway" is in my garage, getting ready to practice our cover of '21 Guns' by Green Day. We don't speak to each other very much, causing the room to fill up with awkward silence. We talk a little bit about stage presence, plan out what I'm going to say to the audience, and perfect the bridge of our original song. But it all feels robotic. Violet is trying to act normal, but she ends up being too perky and too fake.
After playing both our original and our cover song about thirty-five times each, my throat is scratchy and my fingers are slightly blistered from the guitar strings. I glance at the watch on my left hand. It's 7:00.
I finally can't stand it.
"Violet, where the heck were you during lunch?" I ask, almost shrieking it.
Vi looks up at me, startled. Her fingers play with her keys, the volume off so I can't hear the melody.
"I just…I met this guy and I think he's new to the school but he's really nice and, oh! He plays soccer. We talked for almost the entire lunch!" by the time she's finished, the same goofy smile is stuck on her face again. I think she expects us to be excited ("Oh my gosh! You two were meant for each other!" or "What color are his eyes?"), but the entire band is even more angry. Piper inhales slowly and blows out the air for a long time. We can tell she's exhausted and angry. She's a ticking bomb getting ready to explode. And she does.
"Guys, I can't take this anymore. I mean, trust and responsibility are huge parts of being in a band! Vi, you skipped practice to talk to a boy. Not even a teacher, not even a boy you knew existed before today. And Tori, you need to say something! You've just been staring at your drums the entire day!" she turns to me, her dagger-like expression cutting through my armor as if it was butter.
"And you," she says. "You are way too intense about everything. Maybe you're stressed; I am too. But the whole focus on stage presence and technique, I mean, what about the fun?" I flinch as her lips throw knives at me. But she's right. I am stressed, I am intense, and I need to calm down. Piper shoves one hand into her black pixie hairstyle and bites her lip like she's trying really hard not to say something she'll regret.
"If you guys can't work together, then I might just have to go join another band and win the Battle that way."
Silence falls over the room. We're all shocked at quiet Piper's big outburst. Violet is still playing with her keys. I take a deep breath.
"You're right," I say softly. Piper looks up at me. "We all need to chill out and work together. Otherwise, it will be impossible to reach the goal that we've been working towards all year. Tori, without your ideas, we'll all be terrible. We need you. Violet, you can't skip practices. We've gotten so much stronger with you here and we can't lose you. Piper, your honesty is what holds us together. You can't leave. And…me." I pause, searching for a reaction among my friends. "I don't even know what to do with myself. Since last year my confidence level has gone down and that scares me. I don't even know if I can face that stage again. But I'm trying. I don't want to suck the fun out of this. This is supposed to become a perfect memory that will be with us forever. I can't let myself ruin it. I'm so sorry."
I look down at my guitar, running my fingers over the strings and the pickups.
I suddenly feel thin arms around my shoulders. Piper is hugging me.
"We can do this, guys." She says. "But not if we act like this."
Violet speaks. "I know what I did was wrong. And I'm sorry. I guess I've never met a guy who acted like he wanted to talk to me. I just got a little too excited. I won't talk to him again before the Battle, I promise."
Piper smiles.
"Okay," she says.
"I think we should do a more dramatic build-up in the bridge of our original." Says a voice behind us. We all turn to look at Tori.
"Great," I say. "I was thinking that too!" I'm relieved that this is finally coming together, that we are finally forgiving each other after what feels like a lifetime.
"Let's get to work." Says Piper.
* * * * *
The lights are dimmed in the noisy house of the Fillmore in Silver Spring. Busy staff members are running around, handing out T-Shirts and directing the multiple bands to their stations. Brett, the guy who sometimes acts as the band's instructor grins and waves to me from a corner of the balcony. Piper, Violet, and Tori are sitting with me on the bench in our section of the balcony, labeled "Divided Highway" in big black letters. My guitar case is at my feet, next to Piper's. Tori is on my left, and she squeezes my hand. Violet is at the railing, looking out on the three hundred people or so that have come to cheer on their favorite band. I spy each of our families sitting together in one big group, chatting excitedly. A boy with more hair gel than Elvis is sliding on the floor, practicing a guitar solo.
"We're gonna do well, right?" Piper asks me in a soft voice. She is dressed in black tights, a blue skirt, and a top glittering with sequins.
I turn my head to look at her. "Of course," I answer her. "We've gotten so much better since last year." I know I'm telling her the truth, but I'm still tense. A teenager with dreadlocks in her hair glares at me. Don't mess up my victory, she seems to be saying. I look away and breathe slowly. Not much has changed since last year except for my nerves. Now I seem to have more of them. I look down at my ripped denim shorts, picking at the frayed hems. I've paired it with a plain black t-shirt, my neck sparkling with a thick rope of silver necklaces. Violet is a flame in a funky red dress that is a shocking contrast to her blue hair. Tori has kept it simple with jeans and a grey sweater, but I also notice her hands are shaking.
"We're fine," I assure her.
A young man with long brown hair steps onto the stage with a microphone in his hand. The house quiets down as he starts to speak.
"Welcome to the Battle of the Bands!" he screams. The people in the audience clap and yell.
"Today's Middle School Division holds an incredible group of bands, all of whom have been practicing all year to win!!!" he continues. The yelling continues everybody starts to get excited. Violet turns around to smile widely at us.
"How awesome is this?" she says.
"I would love to introduce our fabulous judges!" says the guy on the stage. He tells us the names and accomplishments of three people sitting in a small balcony.
The guy takes a slip of paper out of his pocket and he makes a show of trying to read it.
"The first band to play has been waiting patiently in the green room for me to stop talking. They are… 'The Junior Police'!!!" the audience claps as a group of boys struts onto the stage.
I turn to Piper. "I don't understand their name. The Police weren't even that good." Piper shrugs. Violet is dancing a little bit to the bad music and Tori keeps her eyes down.
After three or so bands take the stage, Brett comes over and grins.
"It's time, guys. Follow me." He says. I look at my friends. They all have the same expression: excited and terrified. Piper and I pick up our instruments and Tori brings her sticks. We follow him down a familiar stairway, through a hallway, and into a small room.
After a while, a staff member knocks on the door and points to the wings.
"Wait there, behind the red line. You can come out when you're announced." She whispers.
Violet, Tori, Piper and I walk single-file down the dark hallway and stop at the red line of tape. I see a girl with curly blonde hair and way too much makeup sitting on the floor, shoving a rainbow of glow sticks in her knee socks.
"We'll be fine. We're good at this. It's no big deal. We're fine." I continue saying things like this under my breath until I hear the music stop.
Random Long-Haired Dude enters again as the audience cheers. The band exits the stage and we hear the words we've been waiting for all year.
"Please welcome our next band, 'Divided Highway'!" The crowd cheers as we exit the wings. Bright stage lights are instantly on me; my heart pounds louder than Tori's kick drum. I take a deep breath as I plug my guitar into the amp and turn the volume up. We have eight minutes. We have eight minutes to be the best band ever.
I step closer to the microphone. "How is everybody today?" I say. I get a wave of cheers in response.
"Normally I would introduce the band, but I don't really see a point. Twenty minutes before we stepped onto this stage, we forgot our names." The audience laughs.
"Right now, all four of us are named 'Divided Highway'."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Piper smile at me.
"Our first song is '21 Guns' by Green Day." I say. Tori counts us off.
"Do you know what's worth fighting for?
And what's not worth dying for?"
I begin to sing, and I feel the music pulling at me, tangling itself in my voice. My fingers automatically strum the right chords. I feel thrilled to the point where I start smiling as I'm singing. I have to suppress a laugh.
The song ends too quickly and I briefly tell the audience about our original. After the second chorus, we start the bridge. Tori leads us in an awesome build-up that ends with my guitar solo. I keep it simple, only using the G, A, B, and D of the G major pentatonic scale.
I finish the song, holding the last note until I run out of breath. The crowd cheers loudly.
"Did I really just do that?" I don't realize I've said it aloud until Piper, who has been bouncing all over the stage with her glossy green bass whispers in my ear, "Yes."
The audience quiets as the judges start speaking, but I forget to listen. I'm too busy screaming inside with ecstasy. I am high on music. Somewhere in my trance-like state I register that the judges have stopped talking. I exit the stage down a short flight of stares. A parade of tears and hugs is there to greet me.
I don't pay much attention to the other bands. I squeeze the hands of each of my friends as Random Long-Haired Dude starts to speak again.
"It's time to announce our awesome winners! There will be one first-place winner and one runner-up. This is in no particular order." I wonder if he's trying to sound like Ryan Seacrest on purpose. I close my eyes.
"The Jolly Ranchers and Divided Highway!" Tori screams beside me, her curls bouncing as she jumps up and down.
We look out at the audience, bathed in darkness. Random Long-Haired Dude announces the Jolly Ranchers as the runner-up. That means…we win.
The four of us had been clutching hands tightly. We all yank on each other at the same time, pulling all of us into a big group hug. The rest of the world is muted. We're too happy to even scream.
"Oh. My. Gosh." Says Tori.
"Guys, we did it!" Piper is jumping up and down, still tangled in the hug.
"So I'm guessing you don't want to join another band?" Violet asks Piper.
"Are you kidding me?"
"I think we have to get off the stage." I say sadly.
"Do we have to?" Tori whines
"Did anyone hear what the prizes are?" Vi inquires.
I laugh. "Do you care?"
"Not really,"
We break up the hug reluctantly. I smile widely.
"Thanks, Random Long-Haired Dude," I say to him as the band walks off the stage, arms around each other. I lean my head into Vi's. Violet squeezes Piper's hand. Piper jumps excitedly. Tori laughs.
For now, Divided Highway is about as divided as a whole stick of butter. We may have to change our name.
Tate F.
"Focus, guys!" I exclaim as the band erupts into more giggles. "I don't understand what's so funny!"
Tori looks at me over her silver drum set, tears running from her green eyes and face almost split open by a smile. "Nothing! It's just, that guitar solo was like…."
"Like what?" I glare at her.
"Like over the top, Liz," Piper says from behind her bass, her voice quiet but amused. Violet stifles a giggle.
I roll my eyes. "Okay, so what if I got a little lost in it? We have to feel our music. The gig is in two days! And not just any gig…It's the Battle!"
Violet turns to me. "Okay, we get it. But I think you took your dad's advice on stage presence a little too seriously." She plays a dissonant chord on the keyboard for emphasis.
I sigh, running my fingers over the strings on my Fender Jaguar. "You're right. We can pretend like it never happened. I guess I just really want to win after last year."
Last year's big failure had made us all a little less sure of ourselves. My voice had still been layered with an unnatural vibrato, making it sound like I was singing from one of those quivering massage chairs. Violet hadn't been with us then. It had just been Tori, Piper, and me. Since then, Piper and I had switched instruments. We'd also gotten a lot stronger since we'd gained a keyboardist.
Despite that, we're still nervous about the huge Battle of the Bands our music school holds every year.
"Okay, let's try it again." I say, pressing my mouth to the microphone. A cool breeze ripples through Tori's garage as she counts us off.
"One, two, three, four!"
G major, E minor, C major, A major, G major, E minor C major, D major. This isn't a classic chord progression, but that's why we like it. It feels right to us, even if it sounds wrong to other people. After sixteen counts of this, I lean into the mic.
Our song is about being young. It may sound a little stupid, but it's a big part of who we are. We blast Green Day in our rooms, and Nirvana in our headphones on the way to school. We eat junk food, go to movies, fall in love, forget about homework, and put colored streaks in our hair. We look at the students around us, and without thinking about it, we judge them. I'm sure they do the same when looking at us. But whatever we felt then, jealously or hatred or irritation, we plan to sing for them on Saturday night like they are the kings and queens and we are their humble servants. If we sing for them, maybe we can avoid making the same mistakes as last year. Maybe "Divided Highway" could actually win.
At five o'clock, we pack up our instruments (except for Tori, of course). I walk out of the garage after saying goodbye to the band and put my headphones on. I listen to '1985' by Bowling for Soup.
Springsteen, Madonna,
Way before Nirvana
There was U2 and Blondie
And music still on MTV
Her two kids in high school
They tell her that she's uncool
'Cause she's still preoccupied
With 1985
* * * * *
The next day is a Friday. Everybody's in a good mood and there's no homework. This usually means no stress, but right now I'm freaking out. It's lunchtime and the band is meeting in the music room to practice. Tori is already jamming on the school drum set when I get there, short brown curls flying into her face. She looks up as I walk in, holding the cymbals to quiet them.
"Hey," she greets me.
"Hey. Anyone else here yet?" I ask her as I walk towards the instrument storage room to get my guitar.
"Nope, just me." We both hear rapid footsteps and Piper barges into the room.
"Hi guys! Sorry I'm late," she says.
"You're not," says Tori. "Vi's not here yet."
I walk out of the dim, dusty storage room with my Fender as Piper pushes open the creaky door to get her bass.
"Can somebody get the keyboard set up?" I ask.
Tori stares at me pointedly.
"Fine. I got it." I say and move to turn on the big amp.
Twenty-five minutes pass and we're still waiting for Violet.
"Where is she?" Piper grumbles.
"I don't know. She was definitely here this morning." I answer. Violet is never late. In fact, she's usually the one most excited about practicing. "The bell's going to ring any minute."
Tori doesn't talk, but she looks upset. We all look up as we hear giggling coming from the hallway. Violet waltzes in with a grin.
"Run into traffic?" I say sarcastically. But I'm mad. There might as well have been smoke spiraling out of my ears. Violet is never late. But here she is, a goofy smile frozen on her face that makes her look like a Barbie doll.
"Who, me? Nope." Says Violet, clearly oblivious to the situation. "Oh. Am I late? Sorry."
"Where were you?" Piper is looking at her shoes, her face a mask of hurt and anger.
"I was just…" Now Violet looks confused. She rubs a piece of her bright blue hair between her fingers nervously. Tori is still silent. "I can help you guys set up."
"Forget it, Vi. The bell's about to ring." I pull the guitar strap from over my head and set it down in its case. I zip up the case and shove it back into the instrument locker room. My head is spinning with mixed emotions. I've been in this band for four years, so I can be late just this once. I can apologize and offer to help clean up and it would be forgotten in a few days. Violet hasn't even been with the band for a year. She should have realized that this is a commitment. She can't miss a practice and apologize in a way that makes it sound like she doesn't know what she did wrong, especially the day before the Battle of the Bands.
"We can meet at my house today. I'll see you later." I call over my shoulder as I exit the room. My voice is in a monotone. I don't want to fight.
* * * * *
Later that day, "Divided Highway" is in my garage, getting ready to practice our cover of '21 Guns' by Green Day. We don't speak to each other very much, causing the room to fill up with awkward silence. We talk a little bit about stage presence, plan out what I'm going to say to the audience, and perfect the bridge of our original song. But it all feels robotic. Violet is trying to act normal, but she ends up being too perky and too fake.
After playing both our original and our cover song about thirty-five times each, my throat is scratchy and my fingers are slightly blistered from the guitar strings. I glance at the watch on my left hand. It's 7:00.
I finally can't stand it.
"Violet, where the heck were you during lunch?" I ask, almost shrieking it.
Vi looks up at me, startled. Her fingers play with her keys, the volume off so I can't hear the melody.
"I just…I met this guy and I think he's new to the school but he's really nice and, oh! He plays soccer. We talked for almost the entire lunch!" by the time she's finished, the same goofy smile is stuck on her face again. I think she expects us to be excited ("Oh my gosh! You two were meant for each other!" or "What color are his eyes?"), but the entire band is even more angry. Piper inhales slowly and blows out the air for a long time. We can tell she's exhausted and angry. She's a ticking bomb getting ready to explode. And she does.
"Guys, I can't take this anymore. I mean, trust and responsibility are huge parts of being in a band! Vi, you skipped practice to talk to a boy. Not even a teacher, not even a boy you knew existed before today. And Tori, you need to say something! You've just been staring at your drums the entire day!" she turns to me, her dagger-like expression cutting through my armor as if it was butter.
"And you," she says. "You are way too intense about everything. Maybe you're stressed; I am too. But the whole focus on stage presence and technique, I mean, what about the fun?" I flinch as her lips throw knives at me. But she's right. I am stressed, I am intense, and I need to calm down. Piper shoves one hand into her black pixie hairstyle and bites her lip like she's trying really hard not to say something she'll regret.
"If you guys can't work together, then I might just have to go join another band and win the Battle that way."
Silence falls over the room. We're all shocked at quiet Piper's big outburst. Violet is still playing with her keys. I take a deep breath.
"You're right," I say softly. Piper looks up at me. "We all need to chill out and work together. Otherwise, it will be impossible to reach the goal that we've been working towards all year. Tori, without your ideas, we'll all be terrible. We need you. Violet, you can't skip practices. We've gotten so much stronger with you here and we can't lose you. Piper, your honesty is what holds us together. You can't leave. And…me." I pause, searching for a reaction among my friends. "I don't even know what to do with myself. Since last year my confidence level has gone down and that scares me. I don't even know if I can face that stage again. But I'm trying. I don't want to suck the fun out of this. This is supposed to become a perfect memory that will be with us forever. I can't let myself ruin it. I'm so sorry."
I look down at my guitar, running my fingers over the strings and the pickups.
I suddenly feel thin arms around my shoulders. Piper is hugging me.
"We can do this, guys." She says. "But not if we act like this."
Violet speaks. "I know what I did was wrong. And I'm sorry. I guess I've never met a guy who acted like he wanted to talk to me. I just got a little too excited. I won't talk to him again before the Battle, I promise."
Piper smiles.
"Okay," she says.
"I think we should do a more dramatic build-up in the bridge of our original." Says a voice behind us. We all turn to look at Tori.
"Great," I say. "I was thinking that too!" I'm relieved that this is finally coming together, that we are finally forgiving each other after what feels like a lifetime.
"Let's get to work." Says Piper.
* * * * *
The lights are dimmed in the noisy house of the Fillmore in Silver Spring. Busy staff members are running around, handing out T-Shirts and directing the multiple bands to their stations. Brett, the guy who sometimes acts as the band's instructor grins and waves to me from a corner of the balcony. Piper, Violet, and Tori are sitting with me on the bench in our section of the balcony, labeled "Divided Highway" in big black letters. My guitar case is at my feet, next to Piper's. Tori is on my left, and she squeezes my hand. Violet is at the railing, looking out on the three hundred people or so that have come to cheer on their favorite band. I spy each of our families sitting together in one big group, chatting excitedly. A boy with more hair gel than Elvis is sliding on the floor, practicing a guitar solo.
"We're gonna do well, right?" Piper asks me in a soft voice. She is dressed in black tights, a blue skirt, and a top glittering with sequins.
I turn my head to look at her. "Of course," I answer her. "We've gotten so much better since last year." I know I'm telling her the truth, but I'm still tense. A teenager with dreadlocks in her hair glares at me. Don't mess up my victory, she seems to be saying. I look away and breathe slowly. Not much has changed since last year except for my nerves. Now I seem to have more of them. I look down at my ripped denim shorts, picking at the frayed hems. I've paired it with a plain black t-shirt, my neck sparkling with a thick rope of silver necklaces. Violet is a flame in a funky red dress that is a shocking contrast to her blue hair. Tori has kept it simple with jeans and a grey sweater, but I also notice her hands are shaking.
"We're fine," I assure her.
A young man with long brown hair steps onto the stage with a microphone in his hand. The house quiets down as he starts to speak.
"Welcome to the Battle of the Bands!" he screams. The people in the audience clap and yell.
"Today's Middle School Division holds an incredible group of bands, all of whom have been practicing all year to win!!!" he continues. The yelling continues everybody starts to get excited. Violet turns around to smile widely at us.
"How awesome is this?" she says.
"I would love to introduce our fabulous judges!" says the guy on the stage. He tells us the names and accomplishments of three people sitting in a small balcony.
The guy takes a slip of paper out of his pocket and he makes a show of trying to read it.
"The first band to play has been waiting patiently in the green room for me to stop talking. They are… 'The Junior Police'!!!" the audience claps as a group of boys struts onto the stage.
I turn to Piper. "I don't understand their name. The Police weren't even that good." Piper shrugs. Violet is dancing a little bit to the bad music and Tori keeps her eyes down.
After three or so bands take the stage, Brett comes over and grins.
"It's time, guys. Follow me." He says. I look at my friends. They all have the same expression: excited and terrified. Piper and I pick up our instruments and Tori brings her sticks. We follow him down a familiar stairway, through a hallway, and into a small room.
After a while, a staff member knocks on the door and points to the wings.
"Wait there, behind the red line. You can come out when you're announced." She whispers.
Violet, Tori, Piper and I walk single-file down the dark hallway and stop at the red line of tape. I see a girl with curly blonde hair and way too much makeup sitting on the floor, shoving a rainbow of glow sticks in her knee socks.
"We'll be fine. We're good at this. It's no big deal. We're fine." I continue saying things like this under my breath until I hear the music stop.
Random Long-Haired Dude enters again as the audience cheers. The band exits the stage and we hear the words we've been waiting for all year.
"Please welcome our next band, 'Divided Highway'!" The crowd cheers as we exit the wings. Bright stage lights are instantly on me; my heart pounds louder than Tori's kick drum. I take a deep breath as I plug my guitar into the amp and turn the volume up. We have eight minutes. We have eight minutes to be the best band ever.
I step closer to the microphone. "How is everybody today?" I say. I get a wave of cheers in response.
"Normally I would introduce the band, but I don't really see a point. Twenty minutes before we stepped onto this stage, we forgot our names." The audience laughs.
"Right now, all four of us are named 'Divided Highway'."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Piper smile at me.
"Our first song is '21 Guns' by Green Day." I say. Tori counts us off.
"Do you know what's worth fighting for?
And what's not worth dying for?"
I begin to sing, and I feel the music pulling at me, tangling itself in my voice. My fingers automatically strum the right chords. I feel thrilled to the point where I start smiling as I'm singing. I have to suppress a laugh.
The song ends too quickly and I briefly tell the audience about our original. After the second chorus, we start the bridge. Tori leads us in an awesome build-up that ends with my guitar solo. I keep it simple, only using the G, A, B, and D of the G major pentatonic scale.
I finish the song, holding the last note until I run out of breath. The crowd cheers loudly.
"Did I really just do that?" I don't realize I've said it aloud until Piper, who has been bouncing all over the stage with her glossy green bass whispers in my ear, "Yes."
The audience quiets as the judges start speaking, but I forget to listen. I'm too busy screaming inside with ecstasy. I am high on music. Somewhere in my trance-like state I register that the judges have stopped talking. I exit the stage down a short flight of stares. A parade of tears and hugs is there to greet me.
I don't pay much attention to the other bands. I squeeze the hands of each of my friends as Random Long-Haired Dude starts to speak again.
"It's time to announce our awesome winners! There will be one first-place winner and one runner-up. This is in no particular order." I wonder if he's trying to sound like Ryan Seacrest on purpose. I close my eyes.
"The Jolly Ranchers and Divided Highway!" Tori screams beside me, her curls bouncing as she jumps up and down.
We look out at the audience, bathed in darkness. Random Long-Haired Dude announces the Jolly Ranchers as the runner-up. That means…we win.
The four of us had been clutching hands tightly. We all yank on each other at the same time, pulling all of us into a big group hug. The rest of the world is muted. We're too happy to even scream.
"Oh. My. Gosh." Says Tori.
"Guys, we did it!" Piper is jumping up and down, still tangled in the hug.
"So I'm guessing you don't want to join another band?" Violet asks Piper.
"Are you kidding me?"
"I think we have to get off the stage." I say sadly.
"Do we have to?" Tori whines
"Did anyone hear what the prizes are?" Vi inquires.
I laugh. "Do you care?"
"Not really,"
We break up the hug reluctantly. I smile widely.
"Thanks, Random Long-Haired Dude," I say to him as the band walks off the stage, arms around each other. I lean my head into Vi's. Violet squeezes Piper's hand. Piper jumps excitedly. Tori laughs.
For now, Divided Highway is about as divided as a whole stick of butter. We may have to change our name.