Prologue
I can’t breathe, and my heart pounds loudly. The talent show program trembles in my sweaty hands as I peek through the curtain. Too many faces. My parents, in front, seem to regret this. Dad checks his watch; Mom’s on her phone. They’re not ready to see me ditch my books to sing with my friends.
I step back from the curtain and pace the cramped backstage of Edison Mac High School’s auditorium. My mouth is dry, my palms sweaty, and my new boots are rubbing a blister on my right ankle. Perfect. My parents only agreed to this because I convinced them it would look good on my college applications - “well-rounded student” and all that. But their permission came with the usual lecture about focusing on what matters: my future law career.
“Entertainment law is competitive, Seren,” Mom had said, her voice cool and measured like always. “This little music hobby can’t interfere with your internship applications.”
Little music hobby. That’s what they call the only thing that makes me feel alive.
“Seren? Are you hiding back here?”
I spin around to find Key making his way through the maze of props and instrument cases. Mason follows a few steps behind, guitar slung over his shoulder.
“I’m not hiding,” I lie, even though that’s exactly what I’m doing. “Just... getting focused.”
Key smirks, seeing right through me. “Getting focused, huh? Is that why you look like you’re about to throw up?”
“Hey,” Mason elbows him, then tosses me a small water bottle. “Here. Your voice gets tight when you’re nervous.”
I catch the bottle, grateful for Mason’s practical support. While Key radiates confidence in his band tee and ripped jeans, Mason’s steady presence grounds me. He’s tuning his guitar, fingers moving with practiced precision, his blond hair falling into his eyes.
“Your parents out there?” Key asks, peering through the curtain gap that had me freaking out moments ago.
I nod, taking a sip of water. “Front and center. Dad’s probably timing how many minutes I’m wasting that could be spent on LSAT prep.”
“Screw the LSATs,” Key says with that easy confidence that’s carried him through high school. “After they hear you sing, they’ll be begging you to drop law school.”
I choke on my water. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. They’ve mapped out my entire future, Key. Entertainment law, corporate firm by thirty, partner by forty. There’s no ‘rock star’ detour on that map.”
“There should be,” he says, his brown eyes serious for once. “You’re too good to waste your voice on courtroom arguments.”
His words don’t surprise me. Both Key and Mason have been encouraging through their musical pursuits, for as long as I can remember.
Mason looks up from his guitar. “We’ve got three minutes. Are you okay with the key change in the bridge? We can simplify if—”
“I’ve got it,” I say, more confidently than I feel. This is why we work. Key pushes me to dream bigger, while Mason makes sure I don’t crash and burn in the process.
“Remember, the most famous singers didn’t get famous by playing it safe,” Key says, referencing our song choice. Seren. Don’t sing it safe.”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “What if I mess up?”
“Then you mess up,” Mason shrugs. “Earth keeps spinning.”
“But what if—”
Key grabs my shoulders, his face suddenly close to mine. “Stop thinking about the what-ifs. Just feel it. That’s where the magic happens.”
“Edison Mac High School’s Senior Spring Talent Show proudly presents our next performers,” the principal’s voice booms through the speakers. “Please welcome Key Tanaka, Mason O’Connell, and Seren Knox!”
My entire body freezes. This was a mistake. A terrible, horrible mistake. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. My vision narrows to a pinpoint, and I’m vaguely aware of someone saying my name over and over.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper, voice cracking. “My parents... they’ll...”
“Hey.” Key’s voice cuts through the panic. “Look at me, Seren.”
I force myself to meet his eyes.
“You belong out there,” he says, voice low and intense. “Not because of your parents, not because of college applications. Because when you sing, something happens. Something real.”
He takes my hand, and something shifts between us. Key has never held my hand before. There were the occasional nudges and bumps but not this. I look up at him with confusion.
Mason steps closer, giving me a small, encouraging nod. “We’ve got you,” he says simply.
A student helping out in the back, gesturing impatiently. “You’re on! Now!”
Key’s fingers tighten around mine, warm and steady despite my trembling. “Let’s show them what we’ve got.”
My heart pounds as we approach the stage, the spotlight ready to reveal us. I take a final deep breath, tasting the dusty backstage air, feeling the pressure of expectations.
And then we step into the light and I’m momentarily blinded by the lights. My stomach tightens seeing the packed auditorium. Mom has put her phone away, but Dad looks unimpressed. Key strides confidently to the center mic while I lag behind, finally gripping my microphone stand for support. Mason, to Key’s right, adjusts his guitar strap and looks at ease. He nods encouragingly as I step up to the microphone on Key’s left.
“Hey Edison Eagles! Be kind to us now,” Key says into the mic, his voice filling the auditorium with an ease. The casual way he addresses hundreds of people like he’s talking to friends in his living room, that’s Key all over.
The students laugh at his easy charm. A voice hollers from somewhere in the back of the auditorium, “Noooo, we won’t!”
The entire room erupts in laughter, and I feel my panic rising. Are they already laughing at us? But I see Key’s grin widen as he recognizes the voice.
Key turns to look at Mason, and they both look at me.
I take a deep breath and nod slightly to them. Mason counts quietly, “One, two, three...” and raises his pick to the strings.
🎶🎶
The principal returns to the stage, tapping the microphone to get everyone’s attention. “Well,” he says, adjusting his glasses with a bemused expression, “What an exceptional turn out for this year’s talent show and so many talents indeed.” He pulls an envelope from his jacket pocket, opens it and reads it before addressing the students, parents and guests. “First place goes to Key Tanaka, Mason O’Connell, and Seren Knox!”
The applause erupts again, even louder than before. Someone starts a rhythmic chant of our names. The principal hands Key a small trophy – and shakes each of our hands with genuine enthusiasm.
“Well done,” he says, though his words are mostly swallowed by the noise.
Key hands me the trophy, lifting me off my feet. Mason cheers. Dizzy and laughing, I feel more alive than ever as we leave the stage for the principal to award the next winners.
“This is just the beginning,” Key says to a group of seniors hanging out near the backstage. “Mason and I have been working on original material. We’re planning to record some demos, maybe book some gigs once we make our way to L.A.”
L.A. Key and Mason have dreamed of moving there since freshman year with no backup plan, just music and faith. I thought these dreams would vanish with age, but seeing people’s reactions, I realize they might actually go.
I see my parents in the crowd. Dad checks his watch, and Mom gazes at me, confused and concerned—not angry or disappointed, but without the pride others seem to feel.
“We could actually do this,” Mason says quietly beside me, his eyes following my gaze to Key, who’s now demonstrating some exaggerated rock star move to appreciative laughter. “For real, I mean. Not just high school talent show stuff.”
I nod, my throat suddenly tight. “Yeah, you guys could.”
Mason looks at me sharply. “That’s not what I said.”
We both understood he meant Key and Mason, not Key, Mason, and Seren. Seren has a five-year plan, early pre-law admission, and parents who view music as merely a hobby or distraction.
“He’s going to ask you to come with us,” Mason says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. “But he won’t mean it, because he knows you can’t. He knows your parents would never allow it.”
I watch Key moving through the crowd, accepting congratulations, already planning the next step, the next stage, the next audience to conquer. And I feel it.
“The thing is,” Mason continues, “I’ve heard you sing a hundred times, but never like that.”
I look back at Key, who catches my eye and grins that unstoppable grin of his. And I felt sad because I know great things will happen for them and I will be left behind.
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