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Fifteen

“I’m with the band” is an actual thing I have said multiple times in my life.

It gets Corrine and me through the door of Chapman’s, the area’s most popular all-ages music venue, during sound check of Nope.’s Monday-night show. Weeknight shows tend to draw in weak numbers even when the top-billed act is locally popular, so we’re not expecting more than twenty-five people tonight, but we still set up the merch table as if the crowd would boast a hundred.

Juniper walks into the cold, echoing room a few minutes after Corrine and I have started laying out T-shirts, Devon Miles Smith hot on her heels and talking a mile a minute. If her scowl is any indication, their relationship is goinggreat. Devon Miles Smith pulls her into an embrace, slaps his lips against hers, and jumps onto the stage, his guitar case smacking against his back.

“About time,” Kayla says into the microphone.

“Juniper drives like a grandma,” he says under his breath but still loud enough to be heard in this nearly empty room. I flash back to my own grandma, who got pulled over numerous times for speeding.

Juniper rolls her eyes, sliding behind the table. “He’s mad because I wouldn’t run a red light.”

“Last time I checked, Devon,” Kayla says loudly, “you were capable of driving yourself in that nice Toyota Corolla your parents bought you this summer.” Her eyes flick toward Juniper before she turns around to address her bandmates: Alexa Polizzi on bass and Hayley Schwab on drums. “Now that we’re all here, we can stop wasting Danny’s time.”

Danny, the Chapman’s employee who runs the sound booth, currently has his worn-out Pumas propped up in the booth, his phone playing some video on his lap. He used to be a drummer in a band, Snot-Nosed Brat, but, for obvious reasons, their jazz-punk fusion never took off.

“Are you okay, Juniper?” I ask, rubbing her back.

She folds a Nope. T-shirt and nods, eyes cast down. “I’m fine.”

Corrine goes to her other side, boxing her in. “He’s an asshole, no offense. I know we’re friends with him or whatever, but it’s always been more because he’s your boyfriend and Kayla’s guitarist.”

“Yeah. Not because we like him.” I pull the T-shirt from Juniper’s hands because, at this rate, she’s going to etch permanent wrinkles into it. “We like you, though.”

“We love you,” Corrine says, randomly pulling a pack oftissues from the pocket in her corduroy jumper she recently thrifted. Juniper takes one.

“You deserve better.”

Juniper’s face pinches, tears collecting at her waterline. “I need a minute.”

She scurries off to the bathroom, leaving Corrine and me to exchange guilty glances. I don’t know if Kayla told Corrine about her crush, but it’s kind of nice being on the same page without having to discuss it. There’s no doubt: Devon Miles Smith is an asshole to Juniper and she deserves better. If she happens to break up with him and get with Kayla, well, I see no problem with that. There are other guitarists and songwriters in the world, no matter how scared Kayla is to search.

Danny gets Nope.’s feedback under control and they play through half a song, Kayla giving her all even when no one’s watching, her long hair swinging wildly around her as she tests the microphone out from all spots on the tiny stage.

“Should we go check on her?” Corrine asks, sitting down in the rickety folding chair behind the merch table.

“No, I think we should let her have a moment. He was probably bitching at her the whole ride.” I take the much sturdier seat next to her. “Has Logan texted you yet?”

She clamps her hand over her mouth to stop from squealing. “Yes! He said he’s probably coming to the show.”

“You didn’t tell me!” I stifle the part of me that wonders if she didn’t tell me so we’d be even. But a bigger part of me knows that Corrine isn’t that petty.

“I assumed you knew since he got my number from you.He’s not entirely sure he’ll make it, but...” She tries to play it off with a long shrug, but I know her hopes are higher than her shoulders.

“He’ll totally be here. He practically sprained a thumb trying to type your number into his phone.”

She bites back a smile. “We’ll see.” Her fingers stretch toward her jeans pocket, but she doesn’t pull her phone out. “How’s your documentary going? You don’t really talk about it.”

“I thought maybe that would be weird.” I cross my arms, my fingers sliding against the faux leather of my jacket. Once the show starts, it’ll warm up to a nauseating degree in here.

She tilts her head to the side, considering. “I think it’s weirder that you’re not talking about it. Filming is like your favorite thing to do....”

“It’s going well. I think. I don’t know, it’s probably total trash. Holden won’t really open up about anything.” I sigh. “I would have given anything for him to share less as a kid, but now, when I need him to just spew an unconscious stream of thought, he’s not into it. It’s like he’s keeping me at a distance.”

Corrine quirks a brow. “Join the club.” I think it’s a dig at me until she laughs. “He wasn’t the ‘sharing is caring’ type when we dated.”

“You didn’t like that?”