Two high school misfits who hate each other. One music competition where they have to work together. Can their love of classic 80s rock unite them?
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High...
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Side A: Mitzi
The next thing I know, we're walking into the auditorium for the dress rehearsal. Well, not "dress" in terms of wearing costumes, but "dress" in terms of practicing on the stage.
It's Thursday night, and that means the show is tomorrow night.
"Is that what you're wearing?" Shawna asks, flipping her perfect hair over her perfectly tanned shoulder. It's like she brushed gold shimmery powder all over herself. It hurts to look at her.
"Today, yeah," I reply.
"I mean, this is your one time to shine," Shawna says. We're backstage, where one of those mirrors surrounded by big lights reveals all of our flaws. She puckers her lips to check her lip gloss. "I think you should at least try."
I stare at her, mostly to avoid looking at myself in the mirror. "It doesn't really matter what I wear today. It's just dress rehearsal."
"Yeah, dress rehearsal. So you can work out any kinks in your costume. Like, can you walk in your heels? Are the stage lights too hot for your costume? Is your skirt too short?" Shawna looks me up and down, then raises her eyebrows.
"I don't really see why it matters to you," my mouth says. "Me not taking this seriously means you have a better chance of winning." I can't even look at her, as I'm petrified.
"How shallow do you think I am?" Shawna asks. "Look, you and I didn't really vibe. It happens." Shawna shrugs. "But I don't want to win because you didn't try. You're a good singer, better than me. Give me a challenge."
We didn't vibe? I step away from Shawna and away from the mirror. My heart has started racing for some reason. Nerves, I guess. I pull the set list from my pocket and find my name again, even though I have the list memorized. My first song, my solo, is five numbers in. Shawna, of course, is performing last among the solos, her coveted spot. And that's all my fault, because during voice class, my vocals have sucked.
Miss Burgess replaced me on "Somebody to Love" after that disastrous first run. She started telling me to sing louder again.
I deserve to sing fifth and not last. I'm no showstopper, not like Shawna is.
Her words crawl into my brain as I wait backstage to go on. The numbers all blur together in a fit of top 40 ballads and pop songs. The girl before me does a country song, making her voice twang in a way I never heard in class. She's good though. Really good. I wipe my hands on my jeans.
The last bars of her song fade to a smattering of applause from the tech crew, voice students, and band kids in the audience waiting for their own turns. The girl's big smile beams at me—she's practically skipping. "Good luck!" she chirps.
"You're not supposed to say good luck," says the guy behind me. "You say break a leg."
I step forward, careful not to stumble over the wires.
