The bass pumped against the closed door with an audible force, old oak rocking against its misshapen frame with a resounding bang that went along with the beat to an older rap song. The only items of furniture the closed-off room had to offer were a round, rickety table and a few spare chairs made out of any material it seemed their fabricators could find. It was a small room, one with little atmosphere or class. Its pumpkin orange walls were beginning to break down, their chipping drywall a victim of the very same bass that rocked the door each night, the sounds and sights of the room often headache inducing. The conditions on the other side of the old door weren't much better either; sweaty, drunken bodies forced into one small dance floor, cups of alcohol raised above their heads. Some spilled while others attempted to sip daintily, only drops of the human ambrosia falling from their cups to the already soiled floor. A mixture of slinky heels and bare feet made their way clumsily across the floor in a half-attempted rhythm barely matching that which was blasting from the speakers. There seemed to be a new DJ every night in this club, each not wanting to stay very long in this forgotten old town. The current had been here for a while, a veteran back to reclaim his roots at the club that had gotten him started. It wasn't much, but it seemed as though at least the newer guy had brought in a crowd of people that hadn't been seen before at the club.

Sitting at the table, a blonde took a swig out of his plastic bottle selfishly, letting the cold spring water slither down his grateful, hurting throat with ease. Loose beads of water dripped down his chin and he lifted his hand immediately, wiping the sleeve of his old robe across his sweat-laden face haphazardly. His greener-hazel eyes wore an expression of tiredness, and he moved back in the old creaky chair to relax, one arm draping lazily at his side while the other gripped the bottle of water. The boy didn't want to let the treasure go, especially since he knew that his long-needed break would be over sooner than his breath would be caught. A sudden weight on the table caused the blonde to look up, intrigued. He had company in the form of a teenager much like himself, although the other boy had been working in the club longer than the blonde had. He was wearing a robe identical to the blonde's, although his was wrapped loose around him, revealing a bit of the boy's clearly defined chest. The blonde looked on in envy; Was his self-consciousness showing clearly because his robe wasn't loose, but tied tight around his waist as to keep his skin out of view? Either way, the blonde smiled through his feelings at his new companion, the only friend he'd made at the only place he could find work.

"Devon." The blonde acknowledged the other boy by name, nodding in a fashion so that his sweat-laden blonde hair dripped beads of liquid onto the table. Devon pretended not to notice, taking a small sip from his bottle and leaning his elbows on the table casually.

"Sam." He did the same head nod and returned to his water, waiting for Sam to make the next move in their conversation. When the other boy didn't, Devon sighed. He'd have to carry on the conversation if he'd want to be entertained during his break. It wasn't as if he weren't ungrateful by his new companion-he actually rather liked having someone his age to talk to while he worked. He wasn't one for silences, though, especially silences filled with the pounding of the bass to a song he'd heard one million times. "How was your first shift?"

"Rough. I didn't realize that there were this many people in Lima."

"Have you lived around here long?"

"Just a few months or so last year." Sam got up from his chair and circled it, stopping to prop his foot on its seat and inch back slowly, leaning into a stretch as a familiar feeling of relief sunk into him. Letting his head drop to his leg, he turned to the brunette across the table and really began to take in his features. His hair was shorter than Sam's, spiked up a bit in the front to reveal more of his face. Devon's chin was laden with stubble that bumped his age up a few years than it actually was, while his bright blue eyes shone with an aloof gaze that never truly seemed to meet more than the water rippling in its container. He sighed and rose from his chair to join Sam, mimicking the stretch with ease. He had done this routine many nights while this was one of Sam's first.

"So how did you get this job? It's not exactly the most glamorous, I mean." Sam caught a glint of something in Devon's eyes, but it had gone before he could examine it. Switching his stretch to the opposite leg, Sam sighed.

"It's a long story, really. My family and I lived here last year but it didn't really work out and we lost out on a lot of money, so we moved back to Texas. Texas wasn't much better of a situation, and I mean we tried to make it something that it wasn't. My grandparents left a while ago, so there was nothing back there for us anymore. I guess our hearts were stuck on this stupid town." He paused for a minute, recalling the things about Lima he had grown to love in his time there. He shook it off and fogged his mind. Dwelling on the past wouldn't help his current situation. If anything, it'd make it worse. "Now I'm just trying to make ends meet for the family. It's not much, but at least it's helping, right?" Sam laughed a dry, forced laugh and wiped another round of sweat from his forehead, turning his nose up in disgust at the now completely soiled sleeve of his robe. "What about you? What's your story?"

"Respect. It doesn't sound like much, but I just wanted to be good at something, you know? Impress a few people. I know this is probably the most shitty way to try and get respect, but it was sort of on a whim, I guess. Some sort of late night decision I hadn't really thought through. I don't know, though. It may not be the best job, but the money that comes from it is worth it."

"Makes you get used to yourself too, huh?"

"I guess you could say that. The tips are like your confidence boost; the more you get the happier you are. There are nights I haven't gotten any, though, and those are the worst. Those are the nights…" He pauses, running his calloused hand over his hair in thought. "I shouldn't hang around on things like that, though. It's not important." The lights flickered through the cracks of the door and the music began to quiet, signaling the boys to take their places. The new comrades glanced at each other warily, the veteran and the newbie, and found their places behind the stage. Devon turned to give Sam a high five and then the music changed. His cue being first, Devon sauntered onto the stage with a well rehearsed show-face, winking at the girls in his little audience before slipping out of his robe. His costume consisted of a well-fitting pair of boxer shorts, ones he had laughed at the first time he'd worn them. The way he moved in them caused them to sparkle against the bright spotlight, sending dozens upon dozens of shimmering reflections to the audience. The only other thing he wore was a matching bowtie, secured by an elastic that fit snug around his neck. After a while, this had become Devon's persona, his comfort. The second he felt the strange material of his shimmering shorts hit his body he was transformed into someone different; someone who wasn't afraid of dancing unclothed in front of an audience. Someone who actually enjoyed it.

He danced slowly and seductively on the stage, being sure to pause toward the front of the stage in hopes of collecting tips. As he felt the elastic of his pants being pulled to let in the stray dollar bills the girls could collect, Sam joined him. He was a bit more hesitant, unsure of where to stop and what to do when he got there. The veteran shook his hips, taunting the girls who had turned to watch him. He danced and paraded, making a show of something he had complained about just seconds before. Sam watched in amusement, taking mental notes. He'd have to do a lot better to generate tips next to this guy.

As the crowd dispersed and the show came to a close, the boys went back to the pumpkin orange room to gather their stuff, tired bodies barely moving along the scuffed hardwood of the club. Devon took off immediately to the bathroom, gathering his old gym bag and taking out a pair of clean work out clothes. After slipping them on along with a pair of aberrantly dirtied running shoes, he ran the faucet. The water was a bit cold for his liking, but running late as he was he murmured to himself. He'd just have to deal with it. Splashes of water met the spaces under his arms, and a v-shape was being created at his chest. With each new splash of water he dared not look at himself in the mirror. This wasn't something he was proud of.

He stopped his old car in his driveway and turned off the engine. He could tell that his mother was waiting for him by the signal of the light on their porch. Groaning in frustration, he let his head drop to his steering wheel. Sitting in his car alone at night wouldn't chase away the demons in his mind. Then again, he'd always been horrid at solving problems. Hell, Devon Rogers had always been mediocre at everything.

Reluctantly he began to move, his sore muscles nearly giving out under the sudden weight of his body. Progressing to his porch, a light from a neighboring house caught his eye. His breath hitched and his interest shifted to the other light. She was still awake. From her window, his neighbor could see him coming home. The thin, pretty brunette poked her head out of the window and chuckled a light, bell-like sound.

"Hey, Devon! Haven't you worked out enough for a decade?" Her voice caught him off guard and he smiled, looking up at her window with ease. He'd come to love that window, even the house itself. There was something comforting about the blue paint and the old farmer's porch he'd frequented.

"I don't know, I think I still have a little bit left in me."

"Well don't sleep in tomorrow, we have a big day, remember? You promised you'd come."

"I wouldn't miss it." With this reassurance the girl gave him one last wave, turning on her heel and letting her shoulder-length brown hair whip around her shoulder. He watched until she disappeared from his view, the light of her bedroom soon flicking off and the shades drawn. Devon continued the path to his house in a silence that brought upon a strange, closed-throat feeling. Something about himself had begun to feel different, to feel wrong. He didn't like who he was.

The catchy pop song that blared from Devon's old alarm clock was a bit much for the grumpy teenager the next morning. Rolling over in his bed, his gaze was immediately drawn to the window. The sun was woefully missing from this view, and this only made his head reconnect with his pillow in frustration. Having a job while attending high school was proving harder than Devon had originally guessed, especially since his was unusual and rigorous on his already toned body. As he began to shift his weight to rise from bed, his muscles jerked and pulled him in every direction in protest. Something about last night had made him work twice as hard to earn tips. Perhaps, he thought, it was the new guy taking on his territory. He'd never felt so threatened in his position until he'd seen the clearly defined Ken-doll blonde step through the door. What he did feel was a tug at the pit of his stomach, a dropping almost. More than anything, Devon felt the need to prove himself. To whom he didn't know, only that this new goal had become more important to him than anything he'd felt before.

He set the steam of the shower higher to calm his nerves and stepped in, watching as the scalding water danced along his skin, leaving red marks in their trails. He was always fascinated with the way the water seemed to glide; how something so soft could hurt him so badly, so intensely. Nonetheless he continued his shower, humming the same pop tune that'd woken him up quietly to himself. As much as he pretended to be indifferent toward the cookie cutter type of music, something about it drew him in, made him wonder. Something about it was special to him, and yet he couldn't recall why its repetitive verses called to him, causing him to dance jubilantly and sing along to its lyrics in full voice.

A sing-song sound interrupted him as he was combing his hair, and he immediately stopped his singing, turning the radio town to unveil its source. Now fully dressed, Devon threw his comb aside before opening his door slowly, not wanting to disturb the noise's source. In his mind, he began guessing what it could be. There was Jester, his old, reliable dog that could be causing a ruckus. Along with him, though, there was his little sister Holly, just three years old and always involuntarily causing problems for the family. He'd never minded her, though. She was one of the best things to happen to the family.

Poking his head out of the bathroom door he was met with a pair of bright brown eyes belonging to a girl who had made herself comfortable on his bed. She dangled upside-down, her head just barely missing his carpeted floor. Her eyes were shut and her headphones were in her ears, and as she lay she sang quietly to herself. Her hands were poised on her stomach in the position of a true singer, prepared to check and correct the way she was breathing. Her phone sat still on her lap and she had begun to daze off, disappearing to her thoughts and her music as she waited. Devon chuckled upon the sight and came out of the bathroom, walking quietly as to not disturb the pretty brunette. Her eyes, which he knew as a deep chocolate brown, were closed in concentration. Her voice rang across his room in a bright soprano, and he could easily tell that she didn't care if she was caught singing or not. She'd never been shy a day in her life.

Devon crossed the room to gather his hat, and after pulling it onto his head he stopped in front of her, creating a shadow in front of her face. She'd clearly noticed the change of lighting, opening her eyes and grinning upon seeing his face. Rising happily to greet Devon she paused only once to collect her bearings-she'd gotten up too fast and had to sit back down from vertigo. He chuckled and moved toward her, opening his arms to pull her into a hug.

"Hey Al, you ready for the big day?"

"Never been more ready in my life. I've seriously been singing this song for days on end, I feel like I'm going to kill this audition!" The girl grabbed her backpack from the floor and followed Devon out the door, stopping only to throw a goodbye to his mother and little sister. She threw her bag in the backseat of his car and sat in the passenger's side, tiny frame practically bouncing with excitement. This was a large difference to Devon, who sluggishly moved to turn the key in the ignition and back out of his driveway. Sometimes, Allyson Wesley made him feel as though the whole world was on slow-motion compared to her rapid movements and spit-fire ways. "Did you sleep good?"

She had noticed the sluggishness of his movements and sighed. He had been increasingly drowsy lately, and as his best friend she had gotten nothing to explain the fact besides his late night work out sessions. He shook his head and yawned, the involuntary action even more proof of his words.

"I thought you said you were going right to bed when we talked last night, what happened?"

"I don't know; homework, life. The usual, Alls." His tone had become darker, one filled with drowsiness and a hint of anger that darkened Ally's mood upon hearing it. Reaching over, she let her hand rest on his shoulder.

"I'm just worried about you, Dev. You can pretend that the lack of sleep you've been getting doesn't bother you but I know you, you've always needed more sleep than a normal human being." She threw a sly smirk his way, trying to diffuse the tension she knew she'd unwillingly caused.

"And you," He moved his hand from the wheel to jostle her lightly in her seat. She laughed before he continued "never sleep. At all. I don't know where you get it but sometimes it seriously scares me."

"I was born with caffeine in my blood, Devon. Don't be jealous. But…in all seriousness, just…try to get some sleep soon, ok? Go to the nurse and sleep on a stupid cot for all I care. I just want you to be healthy." By this point the pair had pulled into school and Devon turned to see Ally staring right back at him. He could tell she was serious by the way her eyes shone with worry, her brows furrowed in concern. Before he could move to tell her that he'd be alright Ally cleared her throat, collecting her bag from the back seat before retreating from his car.

Franklin High was one of the nicer schools in the area, although it was still high school, which frankly made a large number of its inhabitants form opinions of intolerance toward it. Franklin was also the only high school in quite a way, which made it the epicenter for around three of the area's small surrounding towns. This being said, it was quite easy to lose oneself in the sea of students, most of which hadn't met each other once. In an area like this, it was an amazing occurrence to have such large class sizes. But for many this meant opportunity to find a group they truly belonged in.

The thing Layla Tam loved most about Franklin upon her arrival a few days prior to this was the fact that she hadn't been recognized school-wide as 'the new girl.' It was only in the classes she attended where attention had been drawn to her, and even then half of her classmates had thought she was just a transfer from another class instead of another state. She liked Franklin because it would be easy to blend in, easy to create a new start for herself without the fuss of being shown around and coddled like a baby. She adored Franlin's art program, which she knew had been nationally acclaimed. She knew because she'd been in competitions with members of the school before, and they'd been the hardest to beat. But now she'd be one of them, and Layla had never been happier to make the move to a new place.

Third period math had been a struggle to find her first day, and as she scanned the halls while walking there, she realized with a start that there was not a familiar face in sight. At least if there had been she could've followed them to class, but now, glancing across the sea of people warily, she realized that she was all alone. She stopped in her tracks, unsure of what to do next. She could ask someone for directions, but she'd already been told that a majority of the students liked to confuse people like her with wrong directions for fun. Instead, she opted for checking the map she'd printed off the night before her first day. As she bent her head to look at the piece of paper, she felt something jolt her from behind.

"Watch it, freshman. I know this school is bigger than the little playpen you came from but that doesn't mean you should still be getting lost. It's November." Layla looked up as a shadow crossed over her paper. The owner of the low, accusing voice was standing over her, holding his tough façade while a group of his friends laughed along with him. "Or are you just fucking dumb?" Layla couldn't think of anything to say to him. His long, skater-like hair was covered with a beanie while he was nearly tripping over his pants. They were belted, yes, but they only reached the bottom of his butt. Casting her glance downward, Layla chuckled to herself. She'd always found it amusing that teenage boys today couldn't seem to figure out how to belt their pants.

"Hey!" The boy in front of her continued, knocking her textbooks from her arms so that they collapsed on top of her flat-adorned feet. She winced in pain but didn't move to pick the books up. At this point she realized she was probably in danger, living out every cliché new girl experience she'd been praying Franklin would hide her from. "I'm talking to you, Freshman." He was coming closer to her now, moving the curly brown hair from her ears so he could half-whisper into it. "The least you could do is answer me." His voice sent shivers down her spine, but they were not induced by pleasure. A disturbed feeling had set into her stomach and she looked around for teachers the second she'd felt it. They wouldn't try to do anything to her here, right? As the boy stood in front of her she assessed her situation. The only thing she had with her she figured she could use to injure them was her violin, but even then she deduced that it could only do so much damage before she would be doomed. As she reached to open her case, though, she was interrupted by another male voice, this one coming from behind her.

"Don't you have anything better to do, Asher? Why don't you go smoke another round? You're already dumb as fuck so I'm sure you don't have to worry about it making you worse of a person than you already are." Layla's head swiveled at lightning speed upon hearing the voice, and she let out a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. This person was here to help her. Asher, her tormenter, stepped past her to reach the guy who had just stood up for her. Next to him, Asher looked small and relatively defeated. His mouth opened as if he were going to say something but it shut almost as soon as it had opened and he spun on his heel, the chains on his pants jingling in an ironically jolly way as he walked away. Switching her gaze from Asher, she finally got a glimpse of the guy who had saved her.

He was tall, taller than even Asher, who had seemingly towered over her. Layla knew she wasn't short, so seeing someone who seemed tall to her was a new discovery. He wasn't large, but almost buff, built like a football player although she guessed that he wasn't one. She knew that a lot of the football players in the school were meaner than he was. His hair was sandy blonde and his clothes were moderate; a plaid shirt and a reliable pair of jeans.

"So, are you a freshman or are you just new?" Coming from any other person Layla would take this as an insult, but somehow from him it felt like a genuine question.

"Just new. I transferred here a few days ago. My sister's a senior, I'm a sophomore." She smiled as he bent down to pick up the books the punk had swept from her hands. Before she could protest he began walking and gestured for her to follow, carrying her books for her as they walked down the hallway. "What about you?"

"I'm a junior. My sister's a freshman."

"Oh, that's nice. Do you just have a sister?"

"I have a brother too but he's only thirteen. It's alright though because it makes me feel a lot older than I am, having to give advice to him. Although half of the time he doesn't want any part of it."

"Oh, an independent is he?"

"He's just a little ladies man, that's all. One of those fake skaters who can only do one trick. I told him to be careful, though. I don't want him ending up like that asshole who was just harassing you."

"Thanks for that, by the way." She didn't know where he was taking her, but she assumed they were in the right place. This hallway seemed more familiar to her, at least. The bell had rung but Layla's guide stayed with her, taking small glances at her every so often in a way that made hints of fuchsia creep onto her cheeks. "Who was he?"

"Asher Brown. I went to elementary and middle with him. Total nice guy there, but the year before high school everything just…changed. He was different, and nobody really knew why. The usual crowd he hung out with didn't even know, they only knew that he'd changed for the worse." They were now nearing an ajar door that was definitely familiar to Layla, and she grew sad at the thought that she'd have to leave her companion so soon. He led her into the classroom, though, and as she found her seat he talked to her teacher. It seemed as though her teacher knew him, because they were now chatting casually, as if they were old friends. On his way out, the guy stopped at her desk for a brief second.

"I'm Oliver, by the way." And then he was gone.

Ally never did like stress. Of the few things she turned her nose toward, stress seemed to be the worst with her. Sometimes she thought it enjoyed chasing her around, mocking her for setting her bar too high or being too ambitious. She didn't mind, though. A new challenge was a great challenge, and just another adventure to take on. Just another thing that would get her out of this town as soon as possible. When the final bell rang she made a beeline for the theater, pausing only to wait for Devon, who'd be her moral support for the day.

"How'd your day go? Are you still 'No Nerve Ally?" Devon smirked and bumped Ally playfully, causing her to laugh and grip onto his arm for support. When her grip tightened around hard muscle, Ally pulled her hand back in surprise. She wasn't used to her Devon having so much muscle. Hell, she wasn't used to Devon having any muscle. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though. She just felt as if it were too sudden, too forced.

"Maybe I'm a bit nervous today, but it won't be like last year, I can tell you that. It's only because this is really really important to me. More than anything, really."

"Alls, it's just the school glee club. I mean, you're a shoe-in obviously. You're way better than anybody in this town-in this state, really. You're going to make it so far. You have nothing to worry about with this audition. They'd be crazy not to take you. And if they don't? Well, it's their loss." They had reached the door of the theater at this point and Ally was grinning ear to ear. Praise from Devon meant more to her than she knew he'd ever guess. She stood on her toes and reached up to wrap her arms around him in a thankful hug, breathing in his familiar scent before reaching for the handle of the door. Taking a deep breath, she looked over at her best friend one last time. He'd be watching from the back of the stage, but the lights would prevent her from being fully comforted by his presence. Devon smiled and lifted both of his thumbs up, sending her a cheesy, dimpled smile before watching her walk into the room.

Layla had stumbled into the theater by chance, walking into a much fancier looking seating arrangement and stage than she'd seen at any of her other schools. Glancing around she guessed that this theater sat at least 800 people, and two rows in the front were already filled with anxious students. She tried to guess what it was, but in vain. Most of the students filled the musical stereotype, but there were a few scattered teens that looked as if they had no idea why they were there, only focusing on whatever goal they were about to attempt to attain.

"Excuse me miss, you need to take the next available seat. Auditions will start soon." A woman had come up behind her-a teacher, she'd guessed-and had begun to lightly push her toward the next row of empty seats.

"But I, I'm-"

"Oh hush, you'll be fine darling. I've seen many a performer do their best after overcoming pre-audition nerves. You have nothing to worry about." With nothing to do but oblige, Layla sat in the plush red seat and awaited her turn. Another girl had taken the seat next to her and was texting on her phone, looking disinterested.

"Are you ready for your audition?" The girl next to Layla turned, her head held high. She was taller, with short auburn hair and a demeanor that caused Layla to regret speaking to her in the first place.

"Of course I am. I've had my song picked out for ages. My father says I'm best when I sing Broadway, but I really just think I have several strong suits and not just one." Layla was taken off guard by the girl's presence. She seemed to be larger than life, and yet there was something about her that seemed off. Something…fake. "Oh, I'm so sorry, how rude of me. I'm Vera Brooks. You may have heard of me?"

"I'm Layla. And sorry, I haven't. I'm new here though, so that might be why."

"Oh, a newbie! This'll be great Lila, just you wait. I'll show you the ropes around here in no time. And hey, maybe if you're lucky you'll get a spot in the glee club and be able to sing under my solos." Layla merely crossed her legs, unsure of what to say to such a rude comment and mistaken name. Luckily, though, she was saved for the second time that day.

"Layla! Hey, come sit over here." A tiny brunette in skinny jeans and ballet flats had just taken a seat behind the pair and gestured to the seat next to her wildly. Layla complied, sending an apologetic look to Vera before smiling gratefully at her new savior. As she glanced back, Vera was glaring at the other girl. Clearly, something had made Vera angry. When the other girl noticed Vera's look she simply shook her head, a simple air of disbelief crossing her pretty features.

"Don't mind her, she just has this arbitrary hatred toward me. I don't know how or why it started, but it's been like that since the sixth grade."

"I don't want to be rude, but has she…always been like that?" The girl laughed, nodding immediately. The seats around them were filling quicker now and Layla was shocked. Apparently the hype she'd heard about Franklin's glee club had been true. It was a big deal.

"That's just Vera, don't mind her. She's truly a brand of her own. I'm Ally, by the way. You're new?"

"I just transferred from a school over in North Dakota a few days ago." They were interrupted by the clicking of heels on the stage. In an instant, the female figure standing in front of the group of teenagers had completely transformed the atmosphere of the room from excited and chatty to disciplined and intense. Even the veterans sat stark straight in their seats, all in almost identical positions. They'd clearly been whipped into shape by this female presence.

"We'll start with the front row and work our way back. Please have your accompaniment ready for our pianist. We'll post the final list by Thursday, first rehearsal will be Friday after school in the choir room. I would wish you luck, but luck has nothing to do with it." The shiny black heels clicked across the stage once more and a thin, perfectly manicured finger pointed to the first row of students, specifically at an awkward, skittish freshman girl.

The girl stood center stage and fiddled with her hands, looking away from her audience with nervous anxiety. Often she stared down at her own feet, and Layla could tell from the audience's countenances that they were becoming bored quite easily. It made her stomach churn thinking about the time her turn would come.

"So…you have to audition in front of everyone?" She turned to Ally once the freshman was done with her slow, lackluster performance, her brown eyes filled with unmistakable stage fright. She tucked a strand of curly brown hair behind her ear and shifted in her seat, clearly not looking forward to her moment on stage.

"Grenwich-the woman you saw on the stage that made everyone sit up in their chairs-she's tough, especially around auditions. She says it's better to see how a person performs in front of a full house so that she gets the complete package; an amazing voice and an impeccable performer. I've heard she's a lot less strict in rehearsals, though. She has to be tough to get the best from Franklin." Ally talked about Regina Grenwich with a sort of sparkle in her eyes, a hope, almost. Something about the woman in the pointed high heels and pencil skirts made Ally sit even more erect in her chair, her eyes focusing on the woman's visage as she watched the people auditioning.

"So I'm guessing you've been in this before?"

"Not in Glee club, no. I was too nervous to function last year and completely gave up. Didn't even make it four steps into the room. I mean, I was a freshman, I had no idea what this was going to be like. I've been rehearsing for two weeks now, though, so I'm thinking-hoping- that this year will be different." Layla and Ally talked throughout the torturous auditions and watched in silence during the astonishing ones. To say the least Layla was happy; she'd finally made a friend at Franklin high. Now all she had to do was figure out her audition song.

Ally sat to her left, and as the line of people between them and the stage thinned, she became increasingly interested in hearing the girl's singing voice. But before Ally could go, Vera was first. She sauntered onto the stage like she owned it and stood dead center, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she began to sing. Her movements were jumpy and rigid, as if she'd rehearsed a bit too much. Her supposedly soulful rendition of "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" was nothing short of awkward. Her voice was nice, but she was clearly an alto, and the song pushed at the peak of her range, her voice airy and the notes becoming flat toward its furthermost height. Quite frankly, the whole thing was seeming overdone, her movements and shaky voice the epitome of the majority of auditions Layla had been forced to sit through. Vera seemed to disagree, though, because when she finished her last note her grin was set from ear to ear, and she curtseyed and waved before exiting the stage. In her pompous manner, she walked to the back of the theater and thanked everyone for watching and the few that complimented her singing.

Ally took the stage five auditions later. Her smile was modest and she pushed the grand piano to the center of the stage, scanning the audience and being sure to smile at all of them; mostly Grenwich, who sat at a table in the middle of the theater. She began playing the grand, a soft, familiar tune resonating through the theater. The audience seemed to fall silent as they watched her. Something about her presence was captivating.

"Just gonna stand there and watch me burn. That's alright because I like the way it hurts. Just gonna stand there and hear me cry, that's alright because I love the way you lie." Her voice was soft to begin with, her soprano a perfect match for the song. As she sang she floated in and out of reality, getting into the song that she'd chosen at the last minute on a whim. The song that'd become something much more to her than just a pretty melody.

Ally had spent the day before taking a chunk of the song away and adding her own gusto, going with her gut in changing the way it would be. She didn't want to rap-she figured she was already bad enough at it, which took away a portion of the song. She changed the words to fit her situation and added verses that fit her rendition of the song, verses that moved and diminished along with her feelings. Words that moved like the edd and flow of an ocean in the calm before the storm. Her experience had given her talent, although nobody but herself knew exactly what it was she sang about, which hardships she had gone through to get where she was. And if she had it her way, Ally would die before letting anybody know what she'd gone through.

The theater was silent when she finished and she stood up, unsure of what to do. Before leaving center stage, she nodded to the audience, glancing at Grenwich in search of a reaction. As her gaze moved to the back of the theater she could see Devon standing, two thumbs raised in the air.

Thursday of that week set panic in the minds of the hopeful high-schoolers that had auditioned. With a group of so many choices, it was becoming harder and harder to get into the club with each passing year, and everybody at Franklin knew it. The list was famous for being posted in strange places. It was one of the quirks of Grenwich that made her so admired and yet simultaneously irritating. Once the first person found it, though, word of its location spread about the school like wildfire. The list was one of the most infamous traditions of Franklin high, and one that set the most anxiety in its students. The mystery often internally killed the students who were unable to find it.

Ally was one of the last to know, approached by Layla in the hallway. She was walking as fast as she could, weaving in between the crowds of people who refused to move from her path. As she grew closer she began to call Ally's name, and the girl turned to find Layla right next to her.

"Ally, did you see the list? I found it!" Upon hearing the illusive name she paused, gripping Layla's shoulders.

"You saw? Was I…on it?"

"I don't know, I didn't check. I wanted to see if you'd found it before checking. I'm too nervous to check by myself."

"Well where is it? We can go together." Layla led Ally down the halls, into a wing she'd never even been in before. Layla had been roaming in hopes of finding a bathroom when she's stumbled upon the golden sheet of paper.

Ally stepped up to the list, her finger tracing a line down the column of names. Some she'd seen, while others were completely new to her. At this point, she was only looking for an a, and when she came across the letter it felt as though her heart stopped and then sank; it wasn't her name. Her brown eyes continued to scan the list hungrily; this meant more to her than anything.