This is Chapter 12… wow.

So, I saw my first episodes of Grojband since I was about nine or ten today. Crazy, right? It's kinda shocking me how different this is from the original story. Like, I haven't included any of Corey's catchphrases and Kin and Kon are wilder than I remember. I feel like I captured Laney pretty well because a lot of the time she's just going with the flow, but I've removed a lot of her anger. It's pretty safe to say I wrote these kids way older than they are in the show.

By the way, I really didn't want to have to do this but to make it easier for you to follow I've underlined all of Laney's singing parts for the first song. Bold is where they're singing together. The new song's tune introduced here is a combination of Can't Help Falling In Love by Hailee Reinhart, Vanilla Twilight by Owl City and Eyes Open by Taylor Swift.

I'd like to shout-out OnihumoExplosionsInc and ThatRollingStone today.

OnihumoExplosionsInc - If anyone asks, I wasn't dancing in excitement when you first pointed out that Laney is an unreliable narrator. Totally wasn't. That's a secret between you and me. I'm so grateful for all your enthusiastic feedback and how you were able to find things in the story that I'd written and waited for months for someone to find. I was so happy when you were able to point out plot holes and odd characters because this was my baby for so long and I was so excited to see it finally take flight. Thank you so much!

ThatRollingStone - Your name always reminds me of the Flintstones and it makes me smile. I love it. I think my most favorite thing you ever said to me was "Send the next one right away!" I almost cried when I read that, and I showed my family and it made me so happy I couldn't even do any editing because I was shaking so hard. Thank you so much for bearing with an author frazzled to the bone. I'm so, so grateful for you.

I don't own Grojband


Big Gig; The Moment I Fell in Love(Laney's Memoir)

Rachel is about to turn eighteen. I ask mom what I can do to help plan for her special day, and together we hatch a plan. We can't hold a party because it's hard enough to hold people off Rachel without an opportunity being handed to them. Instead, we make arrangements to fly to Edmonton for the day and go through Edmonton Mall. There are tons of activities to do there, from roller coasters, waterparks, museums and other things. We went there when I was a kid for a weekend. I use money I've earned from band gigs to call ahead and place an order at a custom jewelry store. They say they'll ship my order to my house before the date we're there, and that's fine with me.

The day of the big gig draws nearer. Corey arranges for a bus to take us and our instruments to Alms. I start to post lots on social media to reconfirm we'll play live and to try to hype people up. Expected numbers come back in, and thousands of people in both the US and Canada will watch the live broadcast. Afterward, the entire show will be available for reruns on Netflix and Hulu. They'll upload a video on YouTube exactly one week after the initial broadcast. Capitalism, at it's finest.

Corey freaks out when my dad catches a cold, even though it's a pretty normal happenstance. He doesn't want any of us sick when we're onstage. It's important we're at our epitome because everyone will pitch in to sing this one.

The more Corey stresses, the more the rest of us stress. Each of us starts to suffer from instrument injuries. Corey overdoes his voice and slices his hand into a bloody mess when he slams down on a guitar string the wrong way. Then, he cuts his knees open when he slides across the floor in a choreography stunt. Kin dislocates his middle finger on his left hand and his pointer and fourth fingers on his right hand and has back pain from all the long practice hours. Kon breaks one of his drumsticks, which knocks him in the head and bruises his hand and left temple. In the same practice, he passes out and falls into a drum stand, which bruises his side. I suffer from dry skin, sore shoulders, migraines, and rashes on my arms and on my neck where my guitar and its strap rub.

We all get so stressed our parents put their heads together and take us out of school the week that leads up to the show. Trina throws a fit when Corey's dad announces this to their family, but he's the one who'll appear on TV, not her. So, she goes to school and he stays home and recovers from his ailments. We mostly just sit in bed and hold group phone convos where we make last-minute note changes and change our stage choreography over and over. Mom starts to take my phone away at six o'clock so I can try to rest. Mom helps me put anti-crack stuff on my hands each night, when they are so numb I can't feel them.

We still try new chords, numbers, key changes, and more in the last days before March 5th. Once done, we're left with a masterpiece. So beautiful we all sit down and have a group cry when our work of six months finally comes to a close.

In preparation for the show, Rachel does my nails again. To think these two brilliant songs began with a simple riff she put on my nails! It's unfathomable.

March fourth it snows. We're buried in three feet of snow, and my dad goes out and plows the walk twice. The band and I keep in touch until a cell tower falls down. I go to sleep weak with anxiety: Will we even be able to make it to Corey's house to go to Alms?

I don't sleep well and wake up far too early. Mom's already up though and through her mother magic knows I am up too. She makes both a mug of too-hot hot chocolate and a thermos of coffee to help keep me awake. The world may be asleep, but not me. She packed a bag for the road that includes lots of soda pop, 5-hour energy bottles, and snacks since she knows I won't be able to keep much down. We eat breakfast together in silence. I go through my email to try and calm my nerves. It hasn't updated since last night, but I still go through and delete tons of junk mail from the past few weeks.

The bus comes at ten o'clock. Dad wakes up at nine. Rachel begins to function by 8:45. She does my hair and makeup for today. Nothing too dramatic since there will likely be people to touch me up at the show.

Sometime in the night the snowplows came and got most of the roads. I almost sob with relief. Dad warms up the car thirty minutes ahead of schedule because we don't know how many delays there will be. I wear black thermal leggings and Corey's warm jacket, so I can remember to give it back to him. Even so, the cold bites as I hug mom and Rachel, grab my guitar and rush for the car. Dad sits in the front seat where he rubs his hands together.

We still go slow on the roads despite the cleared snow and the sun. We're stopped twice because people have slid off the road and traffic has to be redirected. Even with these problems, we make it to Corey's house fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. The bus is already there though, and people have gathered to say goodbye. I haul my instruments out of the car and to the door of the bus before I peek inside. It's wide and roomy with electric wall docks where we can plug in our phones. Six benches/couches with rough carpet cushions line the interior, and several album posters hang on the walls. The bus is lined by a shelf with a wire to keep things from falling out. Corey looks too tired to be nervous; he lays face-up on one of the couches in the bus as he tries to keep awake. The bus man helps me put my instruments and the guitar up on a shelf in the bus. I'll have to make one of the boys to help me bring it down if we decide to rehearse. Five minutes before we are set to leave, Kin and Kon appear, bleary-eyed and exhausted. They must not have slept very well last night either. I give them each a sip of my thermos.

We all match without meaning to. Black jeans and navy blue tops. Mine is the only form-fitting one though, and it's a slightly lighter shade. Corey has a tank top on because the last time we did a gig on a stage this big he sweat through his shirt and the BO stains wouldn't come out. The other two boys have decided to wear their band gear shirts with "Grojband' on the front of it.

I hug my dad before I go. He waits in the car until we've all gotten on the bus and left. I wave to him as we pull out, but I don't think he sees.

There is no rehearsal on the bus. We all put on eyeliner and massage our achy hands. Corey downs cough syrup and water like a boss, and Kin lies down flat to try to ease the ache out of his back. Sometimes he'll ask for one of us to please step hard on his back. We help him apply heat pads every once in a while as well. Most of the trip to Alms, we sleep. It's usually an hour away, but with the snow, we arrive there after two. Corey has stressed too much at this point though and does nothing but nod when he hears the news.

In Alms, television crews have already set up shop. They focus a lot on older, bigger, or cooler bands, but we still receive a considerable amount of airtime too. We're considered to be 'rising in popularity' because we sing different types of music and we appeal to people our age. They want to talk to Corey most of all, the face of the band.

The stage crew confiscates our phones, which sucks but whatever. A makeup crew runs around to tweak our appearance to our likings. They paint electric blue flames on the sides of Kon's eyes. One of the girls in the crew focuses on me particularly. I think she's the real artist of the bunch, just judging off how she acted. Artists are a special brand and there's a lot of us. Sometimes we don't understand each other, but once you know us you can spot us everywhere. We see colors where other people are blind and we hear songs where other people are deaf. That girl saw a story in my face like Rachel can see a story materialize on paper, and she manipulated it for about ten minutes before she twisted my head back and forth and nodded her approval.

We rehearse some. We occupy the wait to 8:00 with stress and waiting. I don't understand why they wanted us to be here so early when all we do is sit around and worry. I pen some new lyrics while Corey explains our choreography to the stage tech. I'm needed so we can run through our performance plans once or twice, but they're smart people who have been doing this for a long time. Corey points to an area as if we were onstage and describes what effect he wants. Kin stands nearby to give him tips. The stage crew knows what we need. When Corey, Kin, or Kon make the mistake of sitting too close to me, I talk their ears off in my worry about whether it's cheesy or not to say 'Make your mark or play your part. The only limit is the length of your heart."' Kon tells me that it sounds like a chorus line.

We've started to separate into roles in our band, I've noticed Corey is the showman who wants to learn how to charm our audiences. Kin figures out how to make his wildest dreams come true with special effects and crazy lights. I've slowly, slowly started to turn into a songwriter. That's such a weird thought, that I've become really good at a hobby I never thought I could do. And Kon has started to serve as the realist who glares Corey, Kin and I down when our ideas start to go a little too far. Even now, he stands guard by Corey and Kin as Corey speaks with enthusiasm to the stage crew.

We buy sandwiches from a café across the street for lunch. At three o'clock they finally give us the lineup for the show. We're twelfth in line and we'll premiere around 8:45-9:05 if everyone else goes to schedule. We'll have time to sing both of our new songs, which will be available on iTunes and Spotify among others after the show as Live Tracks. The Studio songs will come out as soon as I can schedule a time for us to go in to polish up the demo tracks we've made so far.

Rubicon is the song we will play second. We don't want to go out with a bang; we want to go out with a lasting impression on all who listen to it. Rubicon is the song for the job.

The sky grows darker and darker, and at 7:55 the shows begin. That way by the time 8:00 rolls around they'll have added in the commentary and ads and everything will be fine. Live videos aren't actually live. They line us up to the stage in the order we go on, and most of the bands begin to lounge. I stress and bite all my nails off until Corey knocks my hands away from my mouth and gives me a stern look. He pulls his beanie down over his eyes and goes to sleep as they introduce the show.

Within the first ten minutes, we have our first major failure. One of the band's guitar strings snap, and they walk out in the aftermath in tears. I shouldn't worry about this problem since I assessed each of our band's instruments myself, but my fingers run over my bass guitar anyway to make sure everything is secure.

Some people are crazy and we can hear them yell from outside. Others are milder. Corey and Kin are the ones who decided how we would act. Wild and alive for our first number, quiet and soulful for the second number. The audience will love the two sides of us. Peaceville always has.

My stomach begins to knot itself as six, then seven, then eight goes. There are twenty to thirty-five bands in all, so we are high up in the runnings, sort of. I tell myself not to stress and try to quell my fear. Corey slumbers on. Kon begins to bite his drumsticks and Kin does a bunch of breathing exercises to cope.

I run to grab a water bottle before we go on. Corey wakes up and we pass it around to make sure we're good and hydrated before we cross the Rubicon.

Eleven goes on, and the crew members begin to talk to us to try to quell our fears. They do more harm than good when they say things like: "It's gonna be okay!" "You're gonna do great!" "Don't worry if you make a mistake!" What does help is when someone puts their hand on each of our shoulders as we walk out, connects eyes with us, and says "Good luck."

Group 11, whoever they were, exits the opposite way we come in. The stage is in a blackout while we assemble. It takes thirty seconds, while the cameras focus on the announcers or a commercial break.

The broadcast takes place in an area that looks like a sports stadium. Maybe it is, I don't know. Thousands of rows of seats face us, and you can see the black sky, starless, behind the bright lights.

A tall, lanky character counts down from the side of the stage as we take our places on stage. "5… 4… 3… 2… 1." His voice cuts off and we turn our attention to the cameras. The lights come on and I am blinded by the sheer volume of it all. Thousands of people are here in the arena. Thousands more watch it from home. The camera people rush up and hand us each a microphone. Microphone stands are already in front of each of us. They point upstage towards five people who sit and face us. The announcers.

"What are you called?" Someone asks over the speakers.

"We are Grojband!" Corey yells, pumped-up. The crowd cheers with him. Some are fans, others will be after tonight.

"And what are your names?"

"I'm Corey." Corey introduces himself, then points to me.

"And I'm Laney."

"I'm Kin."

"And I'm Kon."

"And how old are you all?"

"We're all sixteen except for Corey. He'll be sixteen in a few months." I supply.

"How many numbers will you guys play tonight?"

"Two." Kon answers.

"May we have their names?"

Kin takes that question. "We've named the first one: 'The Moment I Fell in Love.' And the second one we've named 'The Rubicon."

"So, these are your original songs?"

"Yes."

"Who plays what?"

Kon rattles off a quick drum roll and then speaks into the microphone. "Corey does our lead vocals, though you're gonna see Laney show off her pipes a lot tonight. He also plays lead guitar. Laney's our bassist, Kin plays keyboard and I rule our drums." He spins his microphone in his hand.

"Alright. Without further ado, we wish you luck." The disembodied voice says. Corey flashes a thumbs up to the far-off judge's table. My fingers tighten on the bass strings. I will not throw up. I will not throw up.

The stage blacks out, and then Corey counts us in. Red spotlights light us all up. We stow our microphones before Kon starts to sing the opening lyrics.

"Green, Brown, Blue,

I fell for your eyes through.

My walls are collapsing, so I fall in love with you."

Slow, steady. He draws out each note. I haven't mentioned it, but Kon, as sloppy and big and awkward as he is, is a charmer onstage. People love the idea of a teddy bear in our band. Those are the only lyrics he sings this entire song, so he rules them. People begin to scream offstage. I try to take deep breaths as I play. Kin starts to pull his microphone off the stand. As our drums kick back in full force and the bright lights come on, Kin walks to the center of our formation and begins to lay down a sick, fast rap.

"You're so darn oblivious but I can't go on alone.

This seed that I sprouted has done nothing but grown.

Realization hits like a bullet hits bricks;

You and I, we do nothing but mix.

I throw you the beat, you pitch the song.

Wherever they meet, they always get along.

I forget to breathe half-the-time,

Whenever you start laying down all Your! Sick! Rhymes!"

The crowd rises up and begins to cheer. The stage has lightened up. Corey steps forward and glances sideways at me. I step up to the microphone too, ready when he is, always. He takes a deep breath and begins:

"I watched you grow in a way your mother didn't.

One day you were a little girl, the next one of the prettiest."

The crowd screams, and the chorus begins. Corey plunges headlong, every note strong and sharp and clear.

"Somewhere between the bridge and the chorus,

Above the water, twirling to moonlight sonatas.

You sang the refrain and I got the motif.

We sounded like the angels above.

That was the moment I fell in love."

He backs off, and I seize the microphone. My stomach churns for another moment as there's a short bridge, but then the spotlight comes on me too and so I let it all out and sing.

"There's always been swords running into me.

But for some reason lately, you've been my enemy."

My stomach stops churning and my head clears. I almost gasp in relief, except we're on a stage in front of literally thousands of people. Luckily, this is where Corey and I start to switch out, so I don't have to sing at the moment. Corey steals the next two lines:

"You've been slipping away and I don't know how to stop it.

This plane of my feeling's suddenly a rocket."

He did well. I know he was having trouble rattling off 'plane' as fast as he needed to. He must have practiced that without us. I take a deep breath before I spin the song back towards him:

"Sitting under the bleachers, giggling with our secrets.

On the corner of the concrete, we'd started to frequent."

He takes over as he always does. A flawless change from one person to the next. He and Kin are geniuses.

"My heart started racing, running on pistons."

"The area between us can't be measured by distance."

"We turned toward your house to begin the exodus."

"Your hand in my hand, the pressure of emphasis."

That's the second chorus. When I first started to sing this song I would always accidentally jump straight into the bridge, but now I know to lower the microphone and take several deep breaths before I have to sing again.

"I can still feel the weight of your jacket round my shoulders."

"The warmth of your kiss will never grow colder."

This is it. This is what success feels like. Singing a duet with Corey, on a stage that millions are watching. Corey and I move closer together onstage, as we rehearsed. He rips up his guitar as we wait for Kon's signal to begin the chorus. His microphone is tucked under his armpit as he shreds his strings. I only get one line in this chorus, so I prepare to belt it out like a pro.

"Somewhere between the bridge and the chorus,

Above the water, twirling to moonlight sonatas.

You sang the refrain and I got the motif."

"We sounded like the angels above."

I hold that note like a lifeline and draw it out as long as Kin's keyboard will let me. It reverberates in the microphones. Corey blinks in shock, but he recovers.

"That's the moment I fell in love."

There are a heart-stopping four counts where we orchestrate a symphony of notes. Somewhere here, tucked into the seams, is my nail riff, followed by Corey's riff. My ears strain to hear them because it wouldn't be right to play this and not remember where it started. Right before Corey breaks in the third verse, I hear it. The pattern of high and lows that Rachel set into motion, first on my fingertips, and then into our lyrics. I swallow and thank her in my heart.

"You locked the door behind you and turned 'round to face me.

We stood on the edge of what was no longer your property."

"You said 'I guess this is it' I said 'I suppose it is'.

You said 'I'll be darned if I let you slip away again.'"

Pause to breathe, I think. Oxygen to brain cells is a good thing. They like it for some reason. Oh lord, please don't let me pass out on this stage. Corey and I stand and face each other on the stage as part of our choreography. Soon, he'll take my hand and spin me out like we saw the ballroom kids do at Rachel's dance concert in December. I wait.

"I kissed you right there, out on the steps."

"My family was behind you, collecting their bets."

He seizes my hand even though we still have a chorus to finish. He spins me under his arm and then we present ourselves to the audience. I spin back towards him and we enter a pretty dip as Kon signals the final part of the song with a neat drum and keyboard solo. Corey and my instruments are slung around our backs to be out of the way as much as they can be. We should have arranged with someone to come and grab them from us.

We sing the next part together:

"Somewhere between the bridge and the chorus.

Above the water, twirling to moonlight sonatas.

You sang the refrain and I got the motif

We sounded like the angels above.

That's the moment I realized I was in love."

We take less than a second to breathe. He sets a hand on my shoulder and we sing the last lines while we look at each other.

"Stuck in perfect harmony."

"Killing our duet."

"Spinning in the living room."

"Listening to our cassette."

"You sang the refrain, and I got the motif.

We sounded like the angels above.

I know exactly when I fell in love."

We're supposed to lead out the song with backup vocals, but Kin and Kon take over for us while we catch our breath. Good God, I've played gigs before, but this is something else. Sweat pours from every pore in my body. I'd flash them a grateful look, but we're kind of on National TV. It's embarrassing enough I'm huffing like a fairy-tale wolf, with my clothes sticking to my skin.

Corey set his hand on my shoulder again. "You good to sing next song?" He asks.

"I thought you were singing it?" I gasp. He shakes his head.

"It's your cousin's song. I'll do it on the album track, but you deserve this moment. For her." He scratches the back of his head. "Besides. You've done all the work for it." I take a deep breath and consider his words, and then nod.

"Okay." He laughs, and I laugh with him. "I mean, we may crash and burn cause I haven't practiced like you, but…"

He cuts me off. "You'll do great." He flashes me that smile. The confident one that curled my toes when I was younger. I smile back. "By the way." He gasps quickly. He smirks a little and leans forward. "You're gonna love how hot you look when you get to see yourself."

I gape like a fish out of water and look down at my clothes, where sweat has soaked through in several places. He thinks I look hot? In this? Behind me, the first song ends.

I run through the lyrics in my head as we all take a quick drink, even if I know them like the back of my hand. I helped create them, helped Corey memorize them. Kon dumps a water bottle on his head, which helps ease some of my nerves as I laugh. The show must go on though. We hurry back to our spots after a short thirty-second break. Corey opens with the soft ballad tones for Rubicon. The song has not changed much since Rachel sang it. We've added guitars and drums of course, but it is still the crisp package Rachel put her stamp on.

"This song has a quick dedication attached to it," I tell the audience. "It's for my cousin Rachel Barabossi, who helped pen a lot of the lyrics for these songs tonight. You guys should all check out her book when it comes out."

I can't say anymore because Kon has started the build-up to the lyrics, and I need to take a deep breath. I hope that Rachel heard that on the TV and knows I've poured in my thank you for all she's done since she came. She deserves that, at least. I could never have asked for a better friend, sister, or companion. I clutch the microphone tight and press my lips against the mesh wiring. My lipstick comes off with it. I feel grown up on this stage, which is a scary feeling. I feel tall, and I feel empowered. This is why I spent so much work on this; so I could see it blossom into this beautiful sight. I take a deep breath.

"You pulled me down under, skin to skin.

Smiled before you forced me to give in."

This isn't the best spot, but it never occurred to me I don't know where this lyric came from. I push my hair back. The red strands are so sweaty they dangle in soft curls behind my shoulders.

"Burned me and left me crying on the wayside,

I was clutching my bangs thinking I'd lost my mind.

The red of the river tore into my soul.

The worst part was how you left me all alone."

Rubicon, which comes from the Latin word for red. Red like my hair, red like the physical river itself. That makes sense. But could there be more behind that line?

"I thought we were friends,

Well, I was wrong.

You put your hands places they didn't belong.

Silent agreements we made in the sun

Were broken as soon as the light was gone."

I move the song to my own liking, and walk around the stage, and wave to the crowd when I try to catch my breath. At one point I whirl around to spot the boys and make sure they're okay. They look flabbergasted.

"And I was falling, shattering like glass.

Twisting and you started kissing.

Was no too much for me to ask?

Pretty Wallflower, leave the sting in the shower.

Be sure to watch the hour before you're losing your our.

We crossed the Rubicon.

You're no longer my someone.

We lost it all.

You took my a-a-all!

My trials and their recompense,

Customize my confidence.

In moments of silence, you haunt me and I can't get away."

The song builds more now on the second verse. It hits hard right where the deep lyrics need it the most. And I know exactly where I need to hiss out the annunciation to pull that feeling of 'my heart has been ripped out of my chest' out of the audience.

"Against cold bare stones in shades of blue, the smell of new became the smell of you!

So the story goes, so they say. No jewels could reclaim the price I paid –

for trusting you; for reasoning. Not going home, for continuing.

When we crossed the Rubicon, you lost me as your someone.

We lost it all when you took my a-a-all!

My trials and their recompense customize my confidence.

In moments of silence, I can't scream, I can't sing. I don't understand how your mark remains!"

I don't mean to, but I start to cry. I guess the heartbreak behind this song finally got to me. I wonder what took it so long. This song is pure, 100% heartbreak. It's pain and agony. It's never being able to go back. So, with tears running down my face, I sing the last verse:

"I'm forever looking for ways to escape.

To make sure I never have to break.

I have to watch the way I play.

Check all the friends that I gain.

Guard myself from the pain.

The sweat breaks out when I hear you.

All alone, staring down the mirror.

It took years to learn to love myself.

While I learned to be someone else.

And my mind is filled… with the scars of your plans…

All I know is I never want to feel your hands. Again."

I wipe the sweat off my forehead as the drumbeat takes me up, higher and higher and higher. Whereas before there were high-pitched voices that repeated: "yeah I'm in the Rubicon." And "we crossed the Rubicon", there are no background vocals to guide me into this nail-biting tidal-wave of agony. Finally, I belt out the crashing words:

"I will never forget the Rubicon, where you left me all by my lonesome.

I lost my all because you stole my a-A-All!"

Deep breath. Wipe the tears away.

"My trials and their recompense. Helped after you claimed my confidence!

All the time, every day, you haunt me, and I will never get… away."

The stage light leaves my face to travel over the miles of the crowd with their arms in the air. There is something satisfying about working hard on art and seeing everyone enjoy it. I would never enjoy my talents as much as I do if I never let them leave the garage. Corey, Kin, and Kon all come to stand behind me. We link hands and bow, and I lean up and kiss both Corey and Kon on the cheek since they are the two who stand at my sides.

Corey breathes in my ear: "That... was amazing." I blush.

We move off the stage after a while, and stage crew disassembles our gear for us. We watch the judges talk about us on a screen in the back room. The woman who spoke to us before we performed is a Native person with dark hair and defined eyebrows.

"Grojband is a talented highlight of tonight. The four members have connected with their music, their instruments, and with each other. Their passion radiated in the hearts of everyone who heard them tonight."

"That's correct." A dark-skinned man says. "Their lyrics aren't to be trifled with either. The second song, Rubicon, we've never heard anything like that before. I even saw you tear up in the middle of it-"

"-Yes, I was."

Corey, Kin, and Kon all whoop, and pull me into a hug. I laugh and high-five them all. Months of work and stress has paid off, and I am so excited. But not excited enough to not sit down beside our bus and pass out from sheer exhaustion.

They call us back around Ten O'Clock. It's late, and some people in the audience have left early to beat the traffic and the crowd rush. We stand in a long line on the stage, with the other contestants around us. Some of them congratulate us, but I don't know enough of their performances to return the thought.

They have standard awards to give out: Best voice, youngest contestant, oldest contestant. But the real prizes are, of course, first second and third, all in respective bronze, silver, and gold. We wait and try to contain our eagerness.

They give the standard awards out first. The pile disintegrates. The best voice goes to someone who went before us, Best notes go to someone after us. They read the awards off of a little white card and call us down. Everyone claps, and then they send us back again.

"Longest number." The announcer says. "Cra$hed." A bunch of black and white themed people with face paint saunters down to receive the trophy.

"Best lyrics." The announcer reads. "Grojband." Corey sways on his feet, and we hug each other before Kin and Kon decide to go down and grab the trophy. It's bigger than it looked from far away. It stands by itself and comes up to my knee. Corey looks at it with pride. We'll have to thank Rachel. After all, they were her lyrics. Kin and Kon get to run down two separate times. One is for best inner-band relationships, which congratulates us on our on-stage connection with each other. The other is for Most Emotional Performance. When Kin brings it back, he sets it down angled at my feet. I laugh and line it up with the other ones we've scored tonight, but it's clear they all think that one is mine.

The show moves on. At last, everyone stares at the three largest trophies. Some bands have not received any awards. I feel bad for them, but there will be other shows and other gigs for them to play.

"Third Place Overall." Everyone hushes their neighbors. "Art-I-Choked."

A band at the far end of the row bursts into tears and begin to hug each other. They run down and collect the bronze trophy as a team, where they lift it up together as someone snaps pictures.

"Second Place Overall." They call as soon as the previous team has returned. We quiet down. "Grojband."

Corey and I turn to each other and we begin to scream in ecstasy. Second place, Second Place! I kiss both his cheeks as if I were Antoinette and hug him tight. We whoop as a group as we walk down and pick up the glinting, frigid sliver. It is heavy and much larger than the other awards we earned. I blink back tears. This is for all the work we put in these last few months.

We don't get first, of course, but that's alright. "We'll do even better next time!" Corey swears. We laugh and agree. The judges shake our hands before we leave. The Native woman whispers: "That was the prettiest song I ever heard anyone sing."

I don't need her to tell me. I already know.


Easter Eggs:

This Chapter contains the final transcripts for the songs I wrote. The first one is called The Moment I Fell in Love(Laney's memoir) and the second is the previously included Rubicon(Rachel's Memoir). These songs are currently protected under the guise all creators own their creations until sold/patented/etc and also protected under Wattpad Copyright. Other physical steps have been taken to ensure these lyric's safety.

I wrote this while I was suffering from back pain soooo, sorry for torturing you, Kin.

I was inspired by Judy Hopp's parents from Zootopia to give Laney a stay-awake bag.

Originally, Grojband only won two awards, but I decided to favor them.