The Rockstar Chronicles

Rehearsal

The rehearsal room was cold. I didn’t like it the minute I walked inside. It was newly redone in stark lines of mirrors surrounded by unforgiving metal. Hard plastic chairs lined one wall while stacked mats and studio equipment lined the opposite wall. There were no windows. I much preferred the room we had been using, but the boys were impressed immediately by the modern surroundings.

All except Bridge and Tom, who shared a glance of apprehension. Poor Tom looked terrified, his eyes wide with fear. I edged closer to him, weaving my way around the others till I was at his side and I grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

Tom jumped in surprise and then shot me a grateful look. I nodded. “You are just as good as they are,” I whispered reassuringly. “Better even.” Even I was surprised by my last statement. But it was true. I knew it as soon as I said it. He was better than them, all of them.

“You really think so?” Tom whispered back. His hand felt warm in my own, the skin rough. A vision of him hunched over his guitar or doing his chores came to me. Hard work was just as much a part of his life as breathing. It came naturally to him.

I realized with a start that I had never seen him relaxed or just having fun. He was always working and he did a good job. He had mowed our lawn the last few summers for extra money.

It had been Mom’s idea and had lead to Tom building his own little business. I wondered what would happen to it now.

“Of course I do,” I said. He squeezed my hand back before dropping it. As I turned, I caught Ryder’s eye in the mirror’s reflection. He turned away, his face carefully blank. I wondered if he had been watching me and if he had gotten the wrong idea.

“Here, go change,” Mom hissed in my ear as she thrust a bag in my hands. I took it without thinking.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Go change. They need a backup dancer today and I told them you would be happy to help.”

“No,” I said it automatically, more in protest of the idea than of my mother.

“No?” she repeated, her eyes narrowing and her voice lowering dangerously.

“I mean…,” my voice trailed off.

“Now listen,” my mother said icily, “you are going to do this. Go change and when you come out I want you ready to perform. Understand?” She stood before me with her arms crossed, blocking me from joining the others.

All the strength and resolve I thought I had attained seemed to melt away. I nodded dumbly and left the room without another word. I changed quickly in the ladies room and found to my own surprise that I was trembling.

I went to the sink, splashing cold water on my face, and stared at my reflection. My eyes stung with tears, blurring my face until I could no longer see myself clearly. How had I lost it all?