Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Today hurts because we played this balls-out, leave it all on the stage type gig last night at a venue over in Lenox. And it was a big one too, because there were judges from the battle of the bands competition there to watch us and the three other bands that played, looking to tap a few groups to enter the qualifiers tomorrow night.
Yeah, there’s a lot going on between football and the music.
“Hang on, I’ve got like ten missed calls from Zara.”
Carson chuckles and grins. “Jesus, tell her I’m going to need medical treatment and an IV drip before she jumps on me again.”
Griff laughs. “I think we created a monster.”
I chuckle as I dial her number. The phone barely rings when I wince, pulling it away from my ear at the shrill sound of her screaming wildly.
“Whoa, whoa! Zara!” I laugh as I bring the phone back to my ear. “Hang on, slow down. I missed all of that.”
“Anders!” She squeals breathlessly.
“Zara, what—”
“We made it!”
My heart skips a beat.
“Wait… what?”
Carson and Griff frown, moving closer.
“We what?”
“We made it!” she screams gleefully. “The judges just called me! We got it, and they gave us one of the headline slots!”
My jaw drops as this rush of excitement hits me.
Holy shit.
The Rockland County Battle of the Bands is already super competitive, hence the judges coming around to local gigs to “tap” people who’ve applied who they think have at least a chance. But, the headline slots?
That’s fucking huge.
There are three of them, and people have won in years past not being in one of those slots, but it’s rare. Which means getting a headliner spot is huge, and we just did.
“We’re in!” I roar, and Carson and Griff instantly bellow in excitement, high fiving each other before they crash into me in a giant bear hug.
“And,” I grin. “And we got a headliner.”
“Oh fuck yeah!” Griff yells, pumping his fist in the air. “That’s fucking amazing!”
We’re still cheering when I realize Zara is trying to say something, so I shush my buddies.
“Hang on, say that again?”
Zara laughs. “I said, and they moved the gig up!”
I freeze.
“Wait, what?”
“The qualifier show is tonight!” She squeals, still over-the-moon excited. Except, my excitement just tanked through the floor.
The Battle of the Bands qualifier is tonight, and so is the qualifier for football.
Shit.
“There’s one tonight, with the headlines, and then another tomorrow for the leftovers.”
“Zara—”
“I’m late for class, but I’ll call you after!” She squeals in excitement again before the line goes dead.
Fuck.
I put the phone down, my jaw tight as I look at my friends.
“Dude, what.”
“It’s tonight,” I say, my voice leaden. “The Battle of the Bands qualifier. They moved it up a day.”
Carson swears, whirling and kicking at the locker room trashcan viciously. Griff’s face darkens as his jaw tightens.
“Shit,” he growls. “Anders, we’re getting on the fucking bus for the game in like twenty minutes.”
“Wait, we told her tonight was football qualifiers,” Carson grumbles.
I frown. “Yeah, well, she didn’t bump up the band thing. And besides, footballs not really her thing, I don’t think she even realized it was tonight. Fuck!”
The locker room door opens, and Beckett steps in, yanking his practice jersey off. He grins when he sees us.
“Hey, you guys ready? Coach wants us on the bus in fifteen.”
His smile fades as he realizes none of us are smiling.
“Yo, earth to Anders. You okay?”
I look up and nod glumly. “Yeah, great. I’m fine.”
He frowns. “Dude, you don’t look fine. None of you do.” His frown deepens. “Shit, guys, tell me what’s up. We’ve got a big game tonight. Are your heads here?”
“Yeah, man, we just…”
I trail off, looking away.
The Battle of the Bands qualifiers are tonight. Playing music with Zara, the girl we’re all crazy about, is tonight. But football is what we’ve trained for. It’s what we’ve all known until the music itch inside all three of us was too big to ignore. But then, football is college, and a career. It’s what our fathers did. It’s what’s expected of us.
Beckett walks over and claps me on the shoulder before he goes to his own locker and pulls out his bag.
“Look, we got this tonight, guys. Don’t stress. We know the plays, we’ve got this down, and we’re going to rip the Grizzlies a new asshole. Just keep your heads on straight and focused, okay?”
“Yeah, man, we got it,” Carson says distantly.
Beckett nods. “Cool. See you guys on the bus.”
He hooks his duffle strap over his shoulder and strolls out of the locker room, leaving us alone.
“What’s the move here?” I say quietly, looking up at my friends. “I mean, we can’t do both.”
“Can we?”
I shake my head at Griff. “Nah, man. Oakhurst Academy is an hour drive from here, and the game starts at six.”
“What time are the headlines slots,” Carson growls.