The entire field in front of the stage is …

… empty.

Well. Almost. One old shark hovers in the middle of the field. He has a cane and thick glasses and looks a bit lost.

‘Hey!’ cries Gill, his fins on his hips. ‘We’re not Seal Diamond. We’re JAWSOME!’

‘Who?’ rasps the old shark.

‘Jawsome!’ Hunter shouts back.

‘Jordan?’

‘JAWSOME!’

‘Boresome?’

‘JAWSOME!’

The old shark glares at us. ‘Boooo! I want Seal Diamond!’

Hugo quickly drops the curtain back down.

‘What happened?’ asks Hunter as we all crowd around Hugo. ‘Did we get the time wrong?’

‘Did everyone get food poisoning from the food tents?’ I ask.

‘Abducted by aliens?’ says Gnash.

Hugo whips out the program. ‘No, you’re definitely supposed to be on now,’ he says, scratching his head.

Then his moustache droops. ‘Oh, no …’

‘What?’ I ask, my heart sinking.

This does not sound good.

‘Er – looks like I read the program wrong,’ he says. ‘The Killer Wails aren’t on before you. They’re on at the same time, over on the Stingray Stage. I guess everyone must be over at their show.’

I can hardly believe it. The Killer Wails stole our entire audience?!

‘B-b-but we’re JAWSOME!’ moans Gill. ‘600 krillion fans! Three Gold albums! Eleven #1 hits on Chomp FM!’

‘We’ve never had an empty crowd before,’ sniffs Hunter. ‘EVER!’

Gnash’s bottom lip starts to tremble. ’J-J-Jawsome... not famous anymore?’

Hunter, Gilleon and Gnash burst into tears, falling into a group hug.

As for me...

I am disappointed. All the way down to my fins.

But … part of me is also a tiny bit happy. If our show is cancelled, I’ll have more time to practise that impossible riff.

Phew.

While I pretend to look as sad as the others, Hugo gets a phone call. When he comes back, his moustache is droopier than ever.

‘That was the Mayor’s office,’ he says. ‘They’ve cancelled your ribbon-cutting at the new Town Square.’

Hunter puts her fins on her hips. ‘Let me guess. They want The Killer Wails to do it instead?’

‘Yep,’ says Hugo. He looks turtley crushed. ‘Sorry, team.’

Gill blows into his handkerchief. I haven’t seen him look this upset since they cancelled his favourite TV show, Beverly Shells 90210.

‘If we don’t figure out how to get back in the spotlight,’ he wails, ‘Jawsome might be toast forever!’

While Hugo and our roadies pack up our gear, we take off our leather jackets and sunglasses and sail over to the food tents for a chum smoothie. Sharks sail past, barely glancing at us. Without our stage costumes, we’re just regular grade four kids.

‘This is the worst day in Jawsome’s history,’ says Hunter morosely. ‘I hate to think what all the newspapers will say tomorrow.’

As we slurp our chum smoothies, Shelley Newfins from school sails past.

She sees us by the smoothie stand and comes over.

‘Hey, guys! Did you catch The Killer Wail’s show? They’re giving out whale-loads of merch for FREE! KILLER-RIFFIC!’

Before we can answer she scoots off towards the porta-loos, chanting, ‘Killer-riffic! Killer-riffic!’

‘Honking hermit crabs,’ says Gilleon. ‘Why didn’t we think of giving out free merch?’

‘Merch, smerch,’ shrugs Hunter. ‘Once we release our new song on CHOMP FM, we’ll be right on top again. Right, Finley?’

I gulp. ‘Er – right!’

Looks like I’m not off the hook after all.

‘I mean, come on, guys,’ says Hunter, a gleam in her eye. ‘We can totes turn this around. Besides,’ she adds with a sigh, ‘it’s not like it could get any worse!’