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“Everyone wants fifteen minutes of fame,” I say. “Even if that fifteen minutes is really just three and a half minutes, and that fame is really just making a nuisance of yourself at a dive bar off Main Street.”

“This isn’t a dive bar.” Ari scowls at me. “And singing isn’t a nuisance!”

“It isn’t when you do it,” I amend. “But I can’t say the same for everyone.”

“So what song are you going to sing?” Jude asks.

“I thought I might do an Oasis song,” Ari says. “I haven’t been able to stop listening to it all week.”

“Let me guess,” says Jude. “It’s obscure, haunting, and lyrical.”

She laughs. “It’s notthatobscure.” Then she gets a wicked look in her eye and leans toward me. “Did you know? Some people feel that Oasis is the best band to ever come out of England.”

It takes me a second to realize her implication. Thatsomepeople think Oasis is even better than the Beatles.

I gasp, horrified. “You take that back!”

“I didn’t sayIfeel that way,” she says, giggling. “Though I do love their music.”

The front door opens again. I swivel my head.

A woman walks in wearing a floppy sun hat and huge sunglasses, scanning the room as if she were meeting someone.

I sigh.

“Worried he’s not coming?” asks Jude.

I snap my attention back to him. Was I being that obvious?

“No,” I say, checking my watch. We said we would meet at six. It’s only five fifty-two. He’s not even late yet. “I’m not worried.”

And I realize it’s true. I’m not worried. In the past I was always shocked on those few occasions when Quint didn’t disappoint me. But now, I’d be more shocked if he did.

He’ll be here. I’m sure of it.

And that is where my nerves are coming from. Quint and me. Outside of school, outside of volunteering, just hanging out at karaoke night. And yeah, we’re supposed to be making plans for the gala, which is a totally legitimate reason to spend time together.

I know I shouldn’t read into it, but I can’t help it. Reading into things is what Ido.

As a waiter stops by to deliver our drinks, I realize I’ve become fidgety with nerves.

Trish stops by and hands us a song binder plus a stack of paper slips for us to write down our song choices. “Happy to see you all came back,” she says, grinning. “Your head doing all right, sweetie?”

“Just fine,” I say, feeling the back of my scalp. The bump faded away weeks ago.

“Good, good. I hope you sing again. Your performance of ‘Instant Karma!’ was great.” She leans forward, beaming at Ari. “Andyou.I’ve had Louis Armstrong stuck in my head all month thanks to you. You’re singing again, right?”

“Planning on it,” Ari squeaks.

“Glad to hear it. Remember, if something isn’t in the binder, I might still be able to find it online. Y’all just let me know what you need.”

She winks and walks off. Ari inhales a deep breath and grabs the top slip of paper. She immediately writes down her name and the song she wants to do. “Okay, I’d better give this to her before I talk myself out of it,” she says, sliding out of the booth.

“Ari’s gonna sing again?”

I jump, my head snapping around.

Quint, startled by my reaction, takes a surprised step back. Then laughs. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”