“Lark Pelletierrrrr!”
Lark falls to her knees, her eyes wide in shock. The judges embrace her as shimmering confetti shoots out of cannons on either side of the stage. Color and light swirl around us. Ryan turns to me and I hug him. The last footage of The Right Note concludes with a shot of all of us—the contestants, judges, and Tix—on the stage surrounded by the sparkling bits of paper.
Once we get outside of the studio, my parents express their frustration with the results. “It should have been you! What are they thinking?” my mom grumbles.
“It’s okay,” I say, patting them on their shoulders. “I’m ready to go home.”
They climb into a taxi with all my luggage and head to the airport. I’ll join them shortly for the trip home. But first I say my goodbyes to Blair, who hugs me with tears in her eyes. Then Cassandra, who tells me she can’t wait to listen to the first album Ryan and I put out there. And finally, Lark. I find her on the steps leading up to the back door of the studio, staring at the certificate declaring her the winner of The Right Note.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask, startling her.
She folds the certificate in half. “Avoiding the reporters. They all want to interview me.”
“Don’t you want to be on TV?”
She snorts.
I sit down next to her. “Congratulations, by the way. You deserve it.”
“We all deserved it,” she says. “You especially, Eve. You’re one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. You could stay here in California. We could make an album together.”
“I appreciate the offer, Lark, but I think I need to take a break from all of this for a while.” I touch her shoulder as I get up. “I’ll keep my eye out for your name on the charts.”
Out in front of the building, I meet up with Ryan. The taxi pulls up moments later and we take off, leaving the giant glass studio behind.
***
A knock sounds at the front door. I groan, drop my biology textbook onto my bed, and then head downstairs to tell yet another reporter that I’m done giving interviews. Ever since I got back from California, reporter after reporter has wanted to talk to me about the show. I’ve had enough of TV and being forced into a false reality just to drive up ratings. They all ask the same questions: “What was it like being on the stage? What was your judge Cassandra like in person? What about Tix?”
Sometimes they ask about me about Ryan, “What was it like having to compete against him? Are you two in a band again?” But the worst one is, “Is he your boyfriend?” I shut the door in their face if they ask me that.
The truth is, I haven’t seen much of Ryan since we’ve gotten home. With all the make-up work for school I have to do, there hasn’t been any time to play music. I hum to myself quietly as I study—not even my parents hear me.
As I turn the doorknob, I prepare to tell whatever reporter is waiting outside to get lost.
But it isn’t a reporter standing on my front steps. It’s Ryan.
He runs a hand through his now-pink hair nervously. “Hey. Is this a bad time?”
I shake my head and relax into a smile. “No, I was just studying. What’s up?”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a crumpled envelope. “Guess what this is.”
“Your report card?” I ask, jokingly.
“It’s an invitation to play at the city arts festival this summer.” Ryan breaks into a huge grin. “They want us to headline the concert. As a duo. What do you say?”
“We’d have to start getting ready now,” I say, observing the date written on the invitation. It’s only one month away. “I don’t know, Ryan. I still have a ton of homework.”
“Me too. But I can’t stand it anymore. I have to sing or I’ll lose my mind. Don’t you feel that way too?”
“Maybe a little bit.”
“Also,” he says, unfolding the letter. He points at a line of text on the paper. “It’s totally unplugged. That means no electronics allowed. No phones, no electric instruments—”
“No cameras,” I muse.
“It’d be just us and the stage.”
I glance over my shoulder, thinking about all the homework still waiting for me. With a mischievous smile I reply, “Okay. Just one song.”