“I guess it’s pretty obvious that we’ll be working on our projects together.” She nods in agreement. “And I’m more than happy to have you record your songs here, but I have one condition.”

She looks at me quizzically.

“You have to sing your songs.”

She gets up. “Ethan, you know I can’t sing.”

“No, I don’t know that. Because you can sing. You don’t seem to realize that, because someone’s been brainwashing you all these years into thinking that she’s the superior singer.”

She clenches her jaw. “You’ve made your thoughts on Sophie abundantly clear. But she is the better singer.”

“Your songs would be a million times better if you sang them. Those songs are your heart and soul. You’re lending them to somebody who could never have as much heart as you have, even if she tried.”

“I can’t —”

I cut her off. “You’ve got to step up, Emme. You’ve got to let people hear your voice, hear you. You’re better than being stuck in the background.”

I take her hands.

“You’re my best friend. You’re the most remarkable person in my life. And … I want you to believe in yourself as much as I do. I told you that I’m not making any promises that I can’t keep. So here’s a promise to you. I will be there with you every step of the way and do whatever I can to help.”

I reach up and wipe away the tear that has begun to work its way down her cheek.

“I don’t think I can do it,” she says quietly.

“Yes, you can.”

I kiss her lightly on her forehead and wrap my arms around her.

I know she’s scared. Singing in front of an audience is intimidating. But if I can do it, she can.

I did it for her. Pretty much everything I’ve done out of my comfort zone, I’ve done for Emme.

The voices in my head quiet significantly as I sit there with her.

There is only one voice left.

There is only one thing left to say to her. But I’ve used up all my courage.

So as I hold her, I think in my head: Emme Connelly, I love you. And I’ve been in love with you since the first day we met.

Okay, so not everything has gone according to my Plan. It’s my senior year, my last chance to make a statement at this school. To stand out. To be a star.

So, no, my Plan hasn’t worked out. But there is no Plan B.

I don’t know where it all went wrong. At this point, I was supposed to be the biggest star in the school. The one that the entire incoming freshman class would follow around and aspire to be.

But no, I’m stuck in some cruel otherworld where the tables have turned and I’m the one forced to practically beg Emme for help. And the cruel irony of it all is that I’M the person who had to basically drag her here kicking and screaming. And what does she do to repay me? She goes off and becomes part of a band that everybody here seems to love.

The least she could do at this point is help me get the part in A Little Night Music.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” Amanda offers. “I can practice the songs with you.”

I turn my back to her as I examine my closet. “You’re so sweet, Mandy. It’s just that Emme’s in the band and will be playing during the auditions, so she’s got the inside edge that I need to nail the part.”

I start to rummage through my closet for the perfect audition outfit. I’m so sick of all my clothes. For whatever reason, Carter doesn’t want to go to any openings or premieres lately, so I haven’t had an excuse to beg my parents for money for a new outfit.

I’m so sick of begging people for help. Just wait until I’m out of CPA and become a star. They’ll all come groveling to me to thank them when I win my Best New Artist Grammy.

“You’ll totally get the part, Soph. You’re the most amazing singer in the entire school. Sarah Moffitt —”

I turn around quickly and snap at Amanda, “I thought we’d agreed to not mention that name.”

Amanda shuts her big mouth.

Sarah Moffitt. For whatever reason, she’s been every teacher’s favorite student since day one. It’s like some Big Conspiracy Against Sophie. She’s given all the lead parts. She’s not even that good a singer. Sure, she has better range than I do. So what? She has, like, zero stage presence.

I made sure she was auditioning for a different role before I signed up for Desirée. (Of course she’s chosen Madame Armfeldt — if she wants to play my mother, an old hag, that’s fine by me.) She’s been handed every role we’ve competed against. What ticked me off the most was last year, she got to play Rizzo in Grease while I had to be Frenchy. I didn’t get any solos to sing. It was annoying. But now we’re seniors and have to fight over the lead parts. I chose Desirée because of the song “Send in the Clowns.” It will be my moment to shine. Every teacher who has placed me as “average” — a word that I do not identify with and never have — will see that I belong in the Senior Showcase.

That’s the only focus I have this year. That showcase. I will get a spot, no matter what I have to do. And when those talent scouts see me, game over. I’ll have a record deal before we graduate. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I will do whatever it takes to get it.

I pull out a fitted skirt and blazer. “I figure I’ll put my hair up like this” — I pull my shiny dark brunette hair in a twist — “wear a simple, yet flattering suit, pearl earrings … a classic, elegant look. A little unexpected as well. I’m sure everybody else will have normal school clothes on. I should probably …”