Page 11 of Next to Everything We Wanted

Exhausted from playing in the ocean, I sat back in my chair and opened a can of Dr. Pepper. I dug into our entertainment bag for something fun to read and accidentally pulled out one of Mom’s magazines from the grocery aisle. Did she really have to keep buying these things?

Letting my curiosity get the best of me, I opened to a bookmarked page. I instantly regretted it. First of all, Mom had saved the page with what looked like a tampon wrapper. Second and last, my sixteen-year-old face greeted me on the page, smiling with my perfectly white teeth.

“Seriously, Mom?” I groaned, lifting the magazine. “You used a tampon wrapper to savethis?” Given that she consumed every ounce of content about me—“as a way of keeping tabs and seeing how true these sources actually are”—I shouldn’t have been surprised, though it still freaking stung.

“Huh?” Mom looked up from her book, lifting her sunglasses. She narrowed her eyes at the magazine before her mouth fell. “Oh no, I thought I threw that away?—”

“The magazine or the wrapper?”

“Obviously both.” She sighed. “I’m sorry you had to see that?—”

“Why would you keep this?” Not only was my old boy band the last thing I wanted to read about, but my looks were also giving me terrible flashbacks.

“I’m sorry.” Mom gave Magazine Gavin a sad smile. “It just choked me up when I saw it. That millions of people loved your music.”

“It wasn’tmymusic.” My voice strained. She’d fought with me and Dad to get out of my contract, and yet shestilldidn’t get it. “You know this hurts, Mom.”

“Gavin, I’m really sorry. I’m just . . . proud of you.” Her gaze skittered across the magazine page. “You’ve accomplished more than most boys your age ever dream of.”

“This isn’t an accomplishment I want to think about.” I shook my head as I looked at the page.Charm Street: Where Are They Now?I was the first member mentioned.Gavin Hanville: A Lost Treasure.I scoffed. What was I, an engagement ring someone had lost? Were pirates digging in the sand for me?

Charm Street came together on season eight ofA Search for Stars, a talent show that did exactly what the title implied. It worked a lot like the talent shows Simon Cowell ran, narrowing the acts down until one final winner, only this show was run by Gary Cole, the owner of Mercury Heights Records. My bandmates and I had been rejected as soloists during the beginning rounds of the competition, and Gary had put us together at the last minute before the live shows.

Despite how much I hated the man, I couldn’t deny that he had a great eye for talent. We’d only gotten third place—a country guy in his twenties won, though I hadn’t heard a song from him since—but we still got a record deal at Mercury Heights. Gary and his team had whipped up some great pop songs teenage girls would love. Our debut single, “Change Your Mind”, rose to the charts at rapid speed.

We were Gary’s One Direction, gathering fans from around the world who were obsessed with us and our looks. And I’d loved it. I’d gotten along with my bandmates, making music wethought was fun. But the more time went on, the more fame went to our management’s heads.

The experience of a lifetime gradually became the experience from hell.

Charm Street consisted of four members. Justin Lockhart was the favorite of the group, receiving the most lines and attention from girls. With his charming looks, it wasn’t a surprise. Some considered him egotistical, and while that was somewhat true, he could be very down to earth. I gave his picture in the magazine a small smile, remembering how much he’d meant to me. I still talked to him sometimes, though he had no idea about my secret life as Ivan Hicks.

I was the second-most popular member. Fans had considered me mysterious and brooding, which I found hilarious, but they loved me either way. I’d hated my mane of red hair that had since darkened, so I’d dyed it a cherry chocolate color. I hadn’t cut it in the picture they’d used in this magazine, letting it run to my shoulders. Gosh, and I still had some baby fat on my freckled face. The Gavin staring back at me made my eyes bleed.

The other two members were Lucas Keesler and Carter Hood. Lucas was the comedian of the group, having sassy moments that became memes. Everyone liked him, but he had a temper. Carter had the weakest voice out of the four of us. I’d always felt bad for him, even though he always put on a happy face. I’d left the group on bad terms with him and Lucas, and I had no interest in reaching out in the future.

When I’d left, Charm Street continued for another year with a new album before announcing an indefinite hiatus. Justin was now getting started on his solo career at his new label. Lucas and Carter had plans for solo music, though they hadn’t released anything yet.

“Gavin.” Mom reached for my hand, but I didn’t take it. Her face fell, and my heart twisted with guilt. “You can throw it away.”

“No.” I slammed the magazine shut and put it back in the bag. “You can keep it.”

“What’s going on?” I looked over to see Asher, his bottom half covered in sand. He picked up the magazine and flipped through it. “More Emberlynn drama?”

“Not since she started dating Justin.” I doubted that they’d last long. Emberlynn Steele was a singer at his new label, a beauty queen known for her messy relationships. She and Justin had that in common, so I knew that they were in for a field day after the honeymoon phase was over.

“Can’t wait to see howthatturns out.” Asher stopped flipping the pages once he’d landed on the one with Charm Street. “Whoa, you look so much like Mom in this picture.”

“I look horrible,” I said before remembering that Mom was watching us. “You don’t, though,” I told her. “You’re stunning.”

Mom smiled, though her cheery mood was gone. “Thank you.”

Asher’s eyes skittered across the article. “They miss you.”

“They shouldn’t miss me.” Tension strained my voice. “There are better people fit for their image now. I don’t want to be remembered as that guy.” Because the guy on the page had died not long after turning seventeen.

Now that I thought about it, Mom shouldn’t keep the magazine. I was seconds away from tossing it into the ocean, in hopes not even the fish would find any speculation of my present situation.

“Put it away, Asher,” Mom demanded.