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I could barely remember getting up on the stage, could hardly recall the way the crowd had screamed and shouted, pumping their fists and throwing up devil’s horns as we’d taken our places.

I had what felt like a distant memory of Trey hyping the shit out of us right before we walked onstage, telling the crowd that we were still in school but rocked like a band that had been around for a decade.

He’d never heard us. He didn’t know this to be true. But, like a circus barker, he performed his job well. The audience believed we were amazing, so we had to live up to their expectations. And his belief in us fueled us to be everything he’d promised we would be.

It wasn’t until the middle of the first song, though, that I felt like I was back in my body.

There I was, going through all the motions, hitting all the right beats that my body was used to.

We were halfway through our cover of Dio’s “The Last in Line” when I came to my senses.

My kit was elevated a bit so I could look out past the guys to the audience.

The lights shining down on us were bright and multicolored, but once in a while, I could get a glance through the rays—and it looked like the place was jam-packed.

Holy hell.

Even had I never gotten that glimpse, I would have felt it. The energy in that place was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I’d never attended a concert, either, so all I had to compare it to was our two previous shows—and this one put those two to shame.

Later I would recall that, after the first song, Zack spoke to the audience.

“Hey, Denver! We heard you guys like to rock your asses off here at Harry’s.

” The crowd responded with a swell of sound the likes I’d never heard before, not even at high school football playoff games.

I glanced over at Braden and got a huge grin.

Cy, though, was in his own little bubble, probably better off that way.

He was keeping his cool, and that was what he needed to do to get through the show.

His playing? Flawless.

“I thought I could tell by a few of you that you’ve heard that last song a few times.

Now we’re going to play for you something you’ve never heard before.

It’s a little tune we wrote called ‘Mercy’.

” That was my cue to tap out the beat, and I held my drumsticks over my head, banging out the rhythm just like Zack had taught me to: 1-2-1-2-3-4.

And then the guitars joined me as I began playing my drums.

It was a song we’d played dozens of times but Zack had only sung it once or twice along with us, so I still didn’t know the words. All I knew was that we had to sing back up when he sang “mercy” in the chorus.

I knew the words were about sex…and I’d never admit it, but it made me feel na?ve, especially as I wondered just how much of Zack’s song came from personal experience.

When he started singing, I banged the drums with fury .

“The clothes go flyin’ as we crash through the door.

Why is it you always beggin’ me for more?

I wanted you the moment you turned your back…”

I pounded out the beat, trying to not pay attention to the words. Who was the you in the song? Did I know her? Would it matter? Was she maybe just a fictious woman Zack had dreamed up in his head?

When we got to the chorus, I had to sing along with the other band members. I didn’t understand why I did, though, because the mic wasn’t close enough to my mouth to be heard.

“Mercy. You’ll keep begging me for mercy.”

As we repeated the line four times, there was no doubt the audience was loving it.

I could see them pumping out the beat with their fists in the air, and some of them were banging their heads to the rhythm.

It felt almost like they were helping me out.

By the time the chorus rolled around again, they were singing “mercy” like we were, but line changed to “I keep begging you for mercy.”

When Zack peeled off his solo right after the second chorus, the audience was ours for the taking.

They didn’t care how young we were. They just knew our music was speaking to their souls.

And right after the solo, we were back into the chorus with yet another line change.

“I won’t be givin’ you no mercy.” But at the end of the chorus which signaled that we were near the end of the song where we played the outro, Zack added a line, and I didn’t know if he planned it or improvised it on the spot.

Either way, it was a permanent part of the song from that point forward.

“‘Cause you weren’t nothin’ but a mercy fuck.”

I tried not to hate it.

The crowd went wild, screaming and cheering. Although I appreciated the reaction, I wasn’t fond of the lyrics. The tune was hard and driving, the beat demanding and addictive.

Fortunately, I didn’t have much time to ponder the song as we moved into a cover of Metallica’s “One.”

That didn’t mean the idea—weaponized sex in lyrics—wouldn’t nag at my subconscious.

It was close to one when we started down I-25 for the long trek home.

Even though I was sure the guys were as tired as I felt, we were euphoric.

We had a lot of people chatting at us after the show, asking us our ages, how long we’d been in a band, and all that kind of thing.

I was asked several times what it was like being the only girl in the band—and I told them the truth.

These were my friends. Who cared that I was a girl?

My heart wished Zack cared…but now was not the time.

All the attention was cool, but I think we all got tired of answering the same old questions over and over.

Still in Denver but on the highway with much lighter traffic than when we’d driven up earlier, Braden said, “Seriously, Zack. All that cash is mine?”

“Yeah. I gave Dani and Cy their fair share, too. I kept a little extra for the gas, but that’s what was left split four ways. ”

“Holy shit. We should just quit school right now and do this full time.”

Zack’s voice grew deeper. “You know I’ve considered it a million times.”

“Dude, do you know how many people asked me if we have CDs or t-shirts or even just buttons?”

“Yeah, I know. We’ll have to do something about that.”

“Couldn’t we take some of our earnings and make that shit?”

“Eventually.”

“If we all quit school, we could work like you do and put money in to get that shit done.”

“My mom would kill me if I quit school now,” Zack said. “Besides, she’s made me an offer I can’t refuse.”

I’d been staring at the highway in front of us as my eyelids grew heavier, but I turned my head, curious. Braden said, “Oh, this should be good.”

“It is, my friend.” Even Cy sat up to listen.

“Mom asked what I wanted as a graduation present and I told her nothin’ , ‘cause I wasn’t planning on finishing school.

But you’re so close , she said, and it’s so important, blah, blah, blah.

She tried offering me a guitar to bribe me.

Nope. Got two of ‘em. A car? Nope. The Green Machine is adequate. Sure, it’s a piece of shit, but someday I’ll be able to buy a sportscar without even blinking once we make it big.

But my mom’s pretty smart. She knows how I tick. ”

Zack turned the radio down, once again to build the excitement leading up to the big reveal. The tires on the pavement made a whirring sound that was almost mesmerizing as I waited for his answer.

Finally, he decided to put us out of our misery. “If I graduate, she’s gonna get me a van—a combination cargo/ passenger van, so I can transport people and band shit without spending money on U-Haul rentals. ”

“What?” Braden said, his voice up an octave. “Are you shitting me?”

“Nope. I saw the price tag, too. For that, I think I can stick it out for a few months.”

I nodded, trying to imagine the possibilities.

“I can’t decide if I want to get our logo painted on it or if I’d rather go incognito.”

Excited beyond belief, we all talked about the possibilities all the way to Monument, Cy included, and Zack told us his income would now go toward tattoos and guitar accessories.

But there was no question that the future was ours.

School was never the same after that. I put in my time, but I wasn’t into it anymore. I had no illusions that we would get rich making the kind of money we made at Harry’s, but we couldn’t stop imagining our future. Now that we’d had a glimpse, we could taste it.

But Zack. Although he had the ability to make the band’s dreams come true, that boy innately knew how to break my heart without even trying.

Sometime in March, my old buddy Ava started hanging with us at lunchtime.

At first, I thought maybe she’d had a fight with her bitchy friends and was trying to reconnect with me.

But then I realized she was there for Zack .

I never knew who’d started it—if he’d been sniffing around her tree or if she’d approached him and complimented him to break the ice—but two days later, I saw him kissing her in front of her locker before heading to Statistics.

Until that particular day, Zack and I had always walked to that class together.

I’d gone to meet him and caught them kissing and I stopped dead in my tracks.

I didn’t want to awkwardly approach them, even though there was something deep down that urged me to pull them apart and insist that Zack belonged to me.

Clearly, he didn’t.

Frozen, I stood there staring for several seconds, a cluster of kids between me and them, and I felt like a lost kitten out in the rain.

Shaking myself out of it, I started to turn, determined to either go to class myself or run into the bathroom until I could get my shit together.

I was too shocked to cry. But when the kiss ended, Ava walked the other way and Zack turned around shortly after to join me.