“I can’t believe your mom made you wear a dress,” Robbie said to Tig.
“I know,” Tig replied. “But she kept saying, ‘It’s not every day my daughter is on TV. You should dress for the occasion.’”
“But the occasion is that we’re rock stars!” Robbie said. “That’s why we’re on TV.”
“We’re on TV because my uncle’s advertising students won nationals with our fake commercial,” Tig said. “I wouldn’t exactly call us rock stars yet.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Robbie. She grinned, and Tig couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m pretty sure you were born a rock star,” Tig said.
Robbie nodded and smiled. “Got that right!” She high-fived Tig.
“Be quiet, y’all,” Kyra said. “Did you not just hear the guy say, ‘Quiet on the set’?”
“Mom? Is that you?” Robbie said. “You look so different these days.”
Kyra scowled and sat up straight. When the man counted down three, two, one and pointed, the show’s host said, “Good morning, Tuscaloosa! I’m Carolyn Kirk, your host, coming to you live from the College of Communication at the University of Alabama. Thanks, as always, for waking up with us today. This morning we have some very special guests with us: Paul Ripley, Professor of Advertising here at UA, and his students from this year’s Ad Comp team. The team is just coming off their latest national victory. Professor Ripley, can you tell us a little bit about what the competition entails?”
As Tig’s uncle Paul and his students explained how they’d first won regionals at the end of the last school year, followed by taking nationals barely a week ago, Tig, Robbie, Kyra, Olivia, and Claire stood to the side, off-camera, waiting to be called over.
“They’re calling us up after the clip,” Tig said. “Get ready.”
After the short clip of the fake commercial with Tig’s band playing a seventies punk song to sell ugly, high-waisted pants—a product that had been invented entirely to make the advertising students’ job difficult—Carolyn Kirk said, “Wow! That is some commercial! And I understand that these young rock stars are here with us today?”
“They certainly are,” Tig’s uncle said. “May I introduce you and your viewers to the girls of Pandora’s Box?”
“Go!” The man who had counted down a few minutes before now whisper-shouted to Tig and the other girls.
The lights were so bright, Tig couldn’t help but squint. The advertising students had given up their seats for the band and gone off-camera. Tig and her friends sat down in the chairs next to her uncle Paul.
Carolyn Kirk introduced the girls by name, along with which instrument each one played. They waved and smiled when their names were called.
“So, tell me, ladies,” said Carolyn Kirk, “how does it feel to be famous?” She looked directly at Tig.
“I wouldn’t exactly call us famous—” Tig said.
“Yet,” Robbie interjected.
Carolyn Kirk laughed. “I see you have some ambition here, huh? That’s great.”
It sounded so condescending that Tig immediately felt embarrassed, but Robbie didn’t seem to feel that way at all. Instead she held her two middle fingers down with her thumb and sort of fist-pumped.
“All right, then,” said Carolyn Kirk. “What’s next for Pandora’s Box?”
“The sky’s the limit!” said Kyra, smiling right at the camera.
Olivia and Claire never said a word. They seemed nervous.
“How exciting!” said Carolyn Kirk. “I’m sure I speak for all our viewers in the Tuscaloosa area when I say we wish you the best of luck and look forward to hearing more from Pandora’s Box in the very near future!”
Cheesy music began playing, and Carolyn Kirk said, “Coming up next, we’ll teach you how to take your grandma’s lasagna recipe to the next oh-so-delicious and cost-effective level! Don’t go away! We’ll be right back!”
“Thanks, Professor Ripley. Thanks, girls,” Carolyn Kirk said as the countdown guy whisked them off the set. The entire interview had lasted all of about three minutes total.
“I’ve got to get some papers graded,” Tig’s uncle said. “If your mom’s not here to pick you up in the next few minutes, let me know. I’ll just be right upstairs in my office.”
“We’ll be fine,” Tig said. She hugged her uncle good-bye, and the girls went outside to wait for Tig’s mom.
“‘The sky’s the limit’?” Tig said to Kyra. “What was that all about?”
“It’s called media training,” Kyra said. “My mom taught me everything she knew from being in the Miss Alabama pageant. Did I ever tell y’all she was third runner-up?”
“Yes,” Robbie said. “I believe you’ve mentioned it about eighty-seven times.”
“Well,” Kyra said, “she showed me how to look poised on camera, and she said you’re always supposed to say something energetic and fun. The judges love that.”
“There were no judges, Kyra,” Tig said. “We weren’t in a pageant.”
“At least I didn’t mumble and squint the whole time,” Kyra replied.
“Can we go get ice cream?” Olivia asked. “Text your mom and ask if we can meet her at that little place on the Strip. We could walk over there in less than five minutes.”
“Olivia’s hungry,” Robbie said. “What a shock.” The girls were always joking about Olivia’s insatiable appetite and her twiggy frame.
“Two words,” Olivia said. “Waffle. Cone. What are we waiting for?”
The girls agreed, so Tig texted her mom to pick them up at the ice cream shop.
Robbie and Tig hung back while Olivia, Claire, and Kyra walked a few feet ahead.
“‘The sky’s the limit’?” Robbie asked. “Your cousin does realize that she can play all of two songs on the bass, right? And even those not very well?”
“Don’t look at me,” Tig said. “I never know what’s going to come out of Kyra’s mouth.”
“Who knows? Maybe this will inspire her to practice more,” Robbie said. “I can hardly wait to get back to the studio and start practicing. Maybe Kyra put in some time on the bass this week. Maybe she’s about to blow us all away.”
“Maybe,” said Tig. But she very much doubted it.