Chapter 146
You okay?” Freddie asked me.
We were standing backstage, and I could hear the sound of the crowd that had gathered. My palms were sweaty, and this did not seem ideal, especially since I needed them to play an instrument in front of lots of people for the first time ever.
The band had all been on board with me stepping in, even after I told them I hadn’t been playing piano that long.
Once we’d decided that I was going on, we’d all jumped into action.
Freddie took the lyric sheets of the band’s songs and wrote in the piano parts for me—letting me know which chords to play when, giving me a cheat sheet.
We’d been able to run through the songs quickly, with me working hard to catch up, and when I’d seen the impressed, musician-to-musician looks the rest of the band had exchanged, I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.
When we’d gone through the set list twice, doing the songs at three times the speed, I’d cleared my throat. “I think there’s one song missing,” I said, meeting Freddie’s eye. “A solo. Right?”
I saw understanding dawn in Freddie’s eyes as he pulled out the Freddie dossier, staring down at the lyrics he’d written. “I mean…” he said, sounding more nervous than I’d yet heard him. “I do have a melody I’ve been playing around with. It might work….”
I gave him a smile, wishing I could tell him for sure how his big moment would turn out.
But in this loop, I was just like everyone else—with no idea how things were going to unfold.
Just trying to be brave enough, and hopeful enough, to believe it would all work out.
Freddie took the keyboard and the lyric sheet off into the corner to work on his song, and before I knew it, it was showtime.
And now, as I stood in the dark of the wings, I felt just how nervous I was getting. All at once, I was realizing that there was a big difference between saying I could step in and save the day, and actually doing it.
“Cass?” Freddie prompted, and I looked over, realizing he’d asked me a question.
I tucked my hair behind my ears, willing it to behave for the next hour. “I think I’m okay? Hopefully?”
“You’ll be great.” He reached over and took my hand. A jolt ran through me—the same one that I felt whenever we touched. Over all these nights, all these loops…it had never changed. “Thank you for doing all this,” he said quietly.
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“But you have.” Even in the backstage darkness, his eyes found mine. “You tried to fix this. You told me the truth about Niall—you saved all those lyrics. You must really…care about the band.”
There was a question at the end of that sentence, and I squeezed his hand, the one that was still holding mine. “More like one member of the band,” I said, not letting myself look away. “Don’t tell Alfie.”
“Tell me what?” Alfie asked as he passed by backstage.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, not able to keep the alarm out of my voice. I knew all too well what was about to happen, even if he didn’t.
“It’s okay,” Alfie said, holding up a trash can. “I’m prepared for the worst. I just didn’t want to miss the show.” He slapped Freddie on the back. “Break a leg!”
I took a breath, then looked back at Freddie. “I just…” I began, as I heard the crackle of a speaker, and I knew the band was about to be announced.
“We’ll talk after?” Freddie whispered.
“Absolutely.”
“Disney Grad Nite seniors and chaperones!” the announcer intoned. “Please welcome—all the way from jolly olde England—Eton Mess!”
The lights started swirling. Freddie squeezed my hand one more time, then strode out onstage.
I took a big, shaky breath and followed, trying to tell myself that it would be okay.
That normally, this performance involved food poisoning and hives and very little music actually being played. So the bar was low.
I stepped out onto the stage, squinting a little against the bright lights.
I couldn’t see the crowd—it was just a blur, but a very big blur, and looking at it was enough to make me even more nervous.
So I turned away and walked to where the keyboard had been set up, at the back, next to Doug and his drum kit.
He shot me a grin as he settled himself behind it.
I spread out the sheet music, covered in the notations that Freddie had made for me. Toward the bottom of the first page, I saw he’d written, You’ll do great, Cass!
“Hi, Grad Nite,” Freddie said. He stepped up to the lead singer’s microphone as if he’d been doing it forever, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You guys having fun?”
The crowd roared back, and Freddie’s smile widened.
“I’m so glad. It’s a special night. One that just comes around once, right?
” He glanced over at me, giving me a tiny wink, and I smiled back at him.
“Just wanted to clear something up. We are Eton Mess, but I’m actually the only one from England.
Tonight we thought we’d show you who we really are.
Doug there is from Chicago. And Alfie’s normally part of the band—sadly, he’s a little under the weather tonight. But he’s from Australia.”
“Yeah!” came a faint reply from backstage. From how weak it had sounded, I had a feeling that Alfie’s food poisoning had shown up, right on schedule.
“And that’s Cass,” Freddie said, nodding to me.
I smiled out at the crowd, and even though I couldn’t see them, I was pretty sure I just heard a gasp of shock.
Whether it was Bryony, or one of the Emmas, or any of the other people that I’d made amends with tonight, I had no idea.
“She’s not British, either. She’s from California. ”
I leaned forward into the microphone. “Harbor Cove,” I said, and I heard a loud Woo!
from all the people from my school who probably hadn’t expected to hear their town shouted out by what was supposed to be a British prep-school boy band.
“I’m from Harbor Cove,” I said again. “I’ve only been there for six months—but it’s my home.
” As I said it, I realized that it was true.
Harbor Cove was where I belonged—and I wasn’t about to leave it before I had to.
There was another woo, a little quieter and more confused-sounding this time, and I smiled. It was okay that the audience didn’t know what I meant. I did—and that was enough.
“Ready?” I looked over and saw Freddie leaning back from the microphone, asking me the question.
I nodded, and Doug counted out one, two, three, four on his drumsticks—and the show began.