The Rockstar Chronicles

It's here.

It was finally here. This huge, monumental thing that the whole summer had been building up to and it was finally here.

It was so important, even Dad came. I had thought he would end up calling or e-mailing us to say he missed his flight or something came up, but he actually came even though he stayed in the background most of the night. It was shocking.

The night of the concert was a strange one. It was that weird August mix of humidity tempered by cool breezes, like it feels when a storm is brewing. I sat with my eyes closed backstage as a makeup artist applied eye shadow. I felt like I was wearing an inch of makeup.

I was sweating in the costume. No breeze could pass through the heavy curtains surrounding us and there wasn't any air conditioning. All summer we had complained about the heat, not noticing that we had gradually adapted to it. But now, it had hit us again full force. I sipped a bottle of water as beads of sweat rolled down my back and Mom gave me the evil eye. She still treated me like a five year old, worried I would need to use the bathroom at the wrong time.

All day, I had successfully avoided Ryder, but eventually, my luck wore off. He had been waiting on me and the first chance he got, he pulled me aside.

"Lindy, I meant what I said last night. I was just going to flirt, but then... I really liked you. That's why I kissed you. You have to believe me." Ryder looked so miserable, I felt sorry for him. And I began to understand what had happened.

"I believe you," I said, "but that doesn't mean I trust you."

"I wish I was a normal kid who could ask you out on a normal date."

"Give me some time," I said finally. "And maybe, one day, I'll ask you."

Ryder nodded. I could tell he wanted to argue. He wanted to go back to where we were, but we couldn't just go back. I had to give it some time and let my wounded heart and the damaged trust heal.

"The makeup lady did a great job on your eye," I said. "I can barely see the bruises."

Ryder grimaced. "Yeah, she complained about it enough. Nobody could believe I fell on the grass last night."

"It was nice of you to protect Grady," I said.

Ryder shrugged. "He was just protecting you. Besides, I think he knows I wasn't trying to hurt you now. We had a good talk."

I smiled at him, despite myself and he smiled back. "I'm not all bad, you know."

When he grinned at me, my heart skipped a beat and I knew, if I wanted to and if he earned back my trust, I could easily end up with Ryder Rhodes.

When we rejoined the others, the mood was tense. The band was jittery, even the seasoned pro's like Ryder and Hardyn. It was strange, but they were completely silent, lost in their own thoughts, their own fears of inadequacy.

Tom, poor thing, looked petrified. Usually, Bridge cheered him up, but tonight he sat alone, head in his hands. He was using all his energy on himself. The only thing that got a reaction was when Grady changed his shoes, peeling off his socks, and everyone groaned as the familiar stench of his feet filled the room.

Some things never change.

I really felt like I was at a funeral. Finally, the makeup lady finished with me and I escaped the dreaded chair. My eyes itched from the mascara and eyeliner and a headache was starting to form behind my eyes from my tight hairdo.

Mom offered me some over the counter pain medicine and I took it. As I watched the boys, I was incredibly thankful I didn't have to go on first.

"It's time," a boy with a clipboard and a headset told us. "You go on and do your set and then we'll start the concert." The boy obviously didn't think we were in the same league as Nate Berkeley and his band, the performers we were opening for. When he opened the door, the distant thrum of cheering and chanting reached us.