Christa POV

I understood. I knew that I would never fully replace Rosalina. I was only a bassist, and they were looking for something else as well. I didn't need to be notified of it. I could see it on their faces.

"Yeah, she's pretty good, but,"

"She can hit all the notes perfect except,"

"Guys, it doesn't if she's not- Well, nevermind."

"I mean, she was the best player, but,"

"Why can't we wait for a few more months?" Their barely concealed conversation was fenced off with a glass window. It was back in the studio, and my breathing was uneven, my heart was jumping out of my chest. I fingered a couple of chords. I knew it, I just knew. It wasn't that I wasn't good enough, I just wasn't her. They weren't looking for the best bassist. They were looking for their best friend.

I already knew. It was stamped into my brain. With every single one of their movements, their attempts to encourage me, or correct me, even with their glances, I could tell. It would never be good enough to be a good bassist, even if I became better than Rosalina. They needed their childhood friend, their nagging sister, and their old band member. They needed Rosalina.

I slammed my fist against the bed post, rattling the upper bunk. I had been sitting beneath drunk girl number one and across from the rest of them for a while now. I could hear Cati's thungover form shift on the mattress above me, and I could her her whispers.

"Water, Rosie, please…" Her hand waved over the edge of the bed, and I briefly thought of leaving it there: Expecting some cool refreshment, but never receiving what it needed the most. I uncrossed my legs and made my way over to the girls' mini-cooler. Finally fishing a bottle of water out from beneath the cheap beer and vodka, I unscrewed the cap. I had seen Rosalina do this numerous times before. Lifting the bottle to Cati's lips, I let the hungover girl sip water. I watched her roll back over and burrow beneath the blankets, away from the glaring sunlight and the scorching day time.

"Looks like she had the right idea." Rosalina came back out from my band's side of the partition. Though I was invited to bunk with the rest of the girls, I often moved blankets to the other side. Sleeping closer to Nat was comforting and I had hoped that by making my bunking intentions clear, there would be an unspoken bond of loyalty between me and the rest of the band. No such luck, of course.

I scooted over silently, avoiding any and all eye contact with Rosalina. It wasn't that I hated her. I just didn't really want to like her. I knew too much of her history with Nat, and I'm sure she knew my not-so-impressive-or-lengthy history as well. I wasn't about to dive into a friendship that would be riddled with questions and distrust. In almost all cases, it's chicks before dicks or sisters before misters, but I make special exceptions for extremely attractive, incredibly funny celebrities. Especially when he's a year and three months older than me. Especially when it's Nat.

"Christa," Rosalina was still staring at me, unsure of how to go on. After a few minutes, I finally looked up.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." My gaze connected with hers, and for a split second I saw a girl who would actually be my friend, my best friend. I saw the kind of girl who everyone needs, because she cares and she is kind and she is beautiful. I didn't like that. I told myself no. This would not end well, a friendship with the girl whose place I took.

"What are you sorry for?" Rosalina diverted her gaze. "You don't have to apologize, Rosalina."

She shook her head adamantly. "No. I do. I need to apologize because I haven't made this trip easy. I know you're trying to fit in with the band, and I feel like everything I do makes things happen the opposite. I'm also sorry for that last fight." I scooted a little closer to Rosalina.

"It wasn't your fault. The guys had no right to say what they did about you. You were just sticking up for yourself, and your new friends." I hesitated. "But thank you. I needed an apology, but not from you." Rosalina only nodded. This was not the kind of dynamic you would want to talk about Nat with, and both of them knew that. The silence stretched on and I glanced out the window hoping for the Miami sign. Miraculously, they made it into Florida. Not much longer compelled to say something, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"If it makes you feel better, they actually miss you still." I could have sworn that Rosalina muttered, 'They won't now.' I shifted uncomfortably.

"That doesn't matter anymore." Rosalina tried to look confident, and anyone else would have accepted that position of finality. But I knew better.

"It does though." I didn't have to say that it ruined any chance of the band moving on with their new bassist, because she already knew. I was certain that that was the true reason for her apology.

She shook her head quickly.

"No, it can't matter." I looked at Rosalina, curiously.

"Why not?" She glared at the comforter. There was a long pause; sign after sign rolled by, melting into the sunny landscape. The air conditioner blew furiously, as if it was also order to blow the tension away with the heat. I was about to ask again, certain that Rosalina hadn't even registered my question. Before I could, the loud cheer erupted in the front of the bus. The bright, big sign to our right screamed happiness: "Welcome to Miami." There was lots of shifting and movement, and for a while Rosalina left the bed to rouse her bandmates. Clamor and chaos was slowly bubbling, threatening to erupt. The hotel loomed into view, but all I could do was watch Rosalina studiously pick up and organize her band's things.

We finally pulled into the parking lot and there was the normal scrambling noises, of boys trying to race off the bus. I heard the slow, steady footsteps of Nat, and with a glance out the window, I saw his figure waiting by the door. For me, I hoped.

Rosalina had begun round two of wake-up calls, and I knew there would be at least three more attempts before she was successful. I stood up to grab my bags, now certain that Rosalina had heard me, and was simply going to ignore the question.

But before I could take my first step off the bus, she stopped me. Looking me straight in the eye, I would almost swear that her eyes were welling up with tears. She was fighting to keep them at bay. There was a second of silence, before Rosalina's voice rang out, clear and sure, determined and strong.

"Because that means everything I've done to protect them was for nothing." Without another word, she disappeared through the partition, her body tense and coiled, as if ready to strike.

As if she was ready to defend.