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Halen nudges me. “Go! I want to hear more of you two. It’s magical.”

“I’m not sure I can get my tail to swim me over, much less make my voice sing.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Either you’re going up there yourself, or I’m dragging you. I don’t care which.”

I turn to Bash for help.

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Or I could drag you. That sounds like fun, actually.”

“Thanks.” I wrinkle my nose at him. “At least I know I can always count on you.”

He kisses my cheek. “Of course you can. That’s why we’re here, drinking and eating the best of the best. Now it’s time to show these drunks what we’re made of.”

I groan, but there’s no getting out of it. Besides, it would feel good to belt out a few tunes. “What are we going to sing?”

He pulls me up. “You pick.”

Halen claps and catcalls—or catfish calls? No idea what it’s called down here.

Bash drags me over to the side of the stage and hands me a book. “These are the songs to pick from.”

I take it from him. “Clearly, you’ve done this before.”

“It’s the band’s favorite summertime hangout.”

Guess that means I’d better get used to this place. I flip through the pages, hoping to find something I know. Most of the songs at the front are totally unfamiliar. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve heard a few of them since arriving in Valora, but I could never sing them. I’m hardly familiar with any of them. I keep looking, and finally find some near the back. Songs nearly as old as I am. Ones I used to listen to with my parents before Dad got banished to land.

I stop on one that Mom and I used to sing when I was in preschool. We even made up our own lame dance for it. I hand the book to Bash. “Will this one work?”

He gives a slight nod. “Perfect.” Then he whispers to the guy running the karaoke.

The dude nods to the other side of the stage. “If you want costumes, they’re over there.”

Bash chuckles. “I’m not sure I’ve had enough alcohol to put on a rainbow fedora and sparkling glasses.”

“I have!” I grab his arm and yank him toward the outfits and absurd-looking accessories.

“What have I done?” he mutters.

I ignore him and dig through the props. Then I hold up an electric blue trench coat. “This is perfect for you! Same color as your eyes.”

He reaches for a black one. “How about one that’ll bring out my hair, instead?”

I pout.

Bash bursts out laughing. “Okay! I’ll wear it. Just don’t look at me like that. What are you going to wear?”

“Good question.” I dig through the costumes some more until I come to a pair of dark glasses and a rainbow-colored wig. “How about these?”

He threads his fingers through my hair. “No wig. Your hair is perfect the way it is—and so unique already. How about this?” He pulls out a long scarf about the same color as my hair and a hideous orange cape.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“You’re making me wear this.”

I throw my hands up in the air in defeat. “Fine. You dress me up but I get to finish your outfit when you’re done, so be careful.”

He laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.”