My friends and I discussed the outfit possibilities for over an hour before we couldn’t stand it any longer and started experimenting. After trying on what felt like a hundred different clothing ensembles, from jeans and a vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt to a skintight black dress, I decided on one.

As the clock ticked closer to eight p.m., Kristen and Lacy worked feverishly, straightening my hair and applying makeup. They wanted to get done with enough time to spare for a dress rehearsal.

I didn’t recognize myself when I stepped in front of the full-length mirror hanging from my closet door. My hair fell in soft, blond waves down my back, glistening with shine serum. Kristen had done an amazing job on my thick, black-rimmed eye makeup and the deep, red lip gloss that she and Lacy decided on, but I was stunned by the outfit I had chosen.

My breasts were the focal point of my costume, having been maneuvered, taped, and squeezed into a black corset top. I had a sinking feeling that they would pop out if I hit too high a note. A pair of black leather pants that I had purchased for a Halloween costume sat low on my hips, and red patent heels completed the ensemble.

You look like a streetwalker, Gram’s voice said in my head. That had been her comment on the one occasion during high school when I’d worn brown mascara and coated my lips in sheer pink gloss instead of my normal Lunar Lime Lip Smackers.

“I can’t wear this,” I said, and began unbuttoning the pants.

Lacy slapped at my hand. “You look hot. Leave it alone. Here.” She thrust a bottle of vodka at me.

“You brought vodka?” I looked over my shoulder at the door as if my grandparents were standing there waiting to bust us.

“Stop worrying and loosen those hips,” Lacy said as I accepted the bottle.

“Hope this helps me figure out how I’m going to get out of the house in this outfit.” I tilted the bottle at my friends, scrunched my eyes shut, and took a tiny swig. “No chaser?” I handed the bottle back to Lacy.

“Buck up, Auden. Act like a lead singer.” Lacy lifted the vodka to her lips, then passed it to Kristen.

In an effort to calm my nerves, I counted sheep as I scrolled through the music library on my laptop. Kristen and Lacy were my friends; they wouldn’t let me bomb my first audition.

—

“Thanks for coming,” Greg greeted me. He held the door open until I walked through. I followed him down a flight of stairs.

“This place is amazing.” A complete music studio took up the entire basement. I immediately felt better about auditioning at Greg’s house. It wasn’t as sketchy a situation as I’d imagined.

“Yeah, my dad’s a musician, so he lets us practice here when I’m home from school.” Greg shrugged. “That’s Josh.” Greg pointed to a tall, skinny guy with short, spiky black hair sitting behind a full drum kit.

“I’m Aaron.” A short guy leaning against the far wall raised his hand. I hoped he was starting dreads, because his light brown hair clumped in various spots, like he’d twisted it that way to get dreads started. “ ’Sup, beautiful?”

“It’s Auden,” I corrected. My tone was sharp, because I wanted them to treat me as an equal, not a piece of meat.

“Alrighty then.” Greg slipped a guitar strap over his neck. “What do you need us to play?”

“Do you guys know Social Distortion? ‘Making Believe’?” I asked, looking from Greg to Josh to Aaron. Josh’s blank face and Aaron’s scowl told me they didn’t. Great, I’d pissed them off in the first two minutes.

“How the fuck are we supposed to know that?” Aaron asked. He turned to Greg. “I thought you said she was singing the Violent Femmes.”

“She can sing whatever she wants.” Greg glared at Aaron.

I tried not to let Aaron’s glower throw me off. This was all in good fun, just me stepping out of the tiny box I’d sealed myself in when I’d chosen soccer above all other interests.

“Sorry. I know it’s a random song.” I hoped the comment would help mellow the situation. Instead, it was met with more blank stares and more scowling. So far the audition was going exactly as I’d imagined. Crash and Burn Berezin at my best.

Since I’d never auditioned before, I had a difficult time keeping my pitch while singing a cappella and remembering to have some sort of stage presence. I went with what came to me, and hoped that nodding my head and rapping my hand against my thigh with the beat impressed them.

When I finished, I looked up through the thick, fake eyelashes that Lacy had glued to my lash line. None of the guys spoke. Josh had moved to the edge of his stool and crossed his arms over his chest. Greg and Aaron stood off to the side, observing, I guess. Nerves pulsed through me as the silence persisted.

“That was fucking wicked!” Josh yelled, jumping off his stool. “Where did you say you found her? Karaoke at O’Callahan’s?”

I fastened the microphone back into the stand and let them talk like I wasn’t even in the room.

“Sing another,” Aaron demanded, challenging me without looking up. He was standing as far away as possible.

“Sure,” I said, pausing a moment before breaking into “I’ll Stand by You.” It was one of my favorite songs, plus it was a believable ballad to accompany my rocker-chic gear.

Greg joined in first, strumming along with my lyrics. After a minute Josh jumped in, too. Pulling the microphone from the stand, I approached Aaron, like a cheetah stalking her annoyed prey. I touched his shoulder, but he shrugged me off. When I started serenading him using ridiculous, exaggerated hand and arm movements, his lips curved into a smile.

“You’re mental,” he said. I didn’t even try to deny it.

“All right, we’ve heard enough,” Greg said, flipping a switch that caused the microphone to go out. I walked back to the microphone stand grinning. Humor could break almost anyone down.

“So what did you think?” I asked.

“You’ve got a great voice. You’re obviously hot,” Greg said, before his eyes settled on the floor. “We’re considering you.”

“Are you considering many others?” I asked. Didn’t want to get my hopes up.

“We got nothing,” Josh said. Though it sounded more like “Me mot mutten” because he was flicking a lighter at the cigarette dangling out of the corner of his mouth.

“Dude! You can’t smoke in here,” Greg told him. Josh rolled his eyes but lowered the lighter and got up from his stool.

“I appreciate you guys letting me audition.” I started toward the stairs, but then stopped and turned around before my foot hit the first step. “So, um, when should I expect to hear from you?”

“When you come back on Wednesday for rehearsal,” Greg said.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“After our old singer left, we ran ads in the Central State Post and on the campus radio station. A few people tried out, but no one with pipes like yours. Can’t believe you’ve never sung before,” Greg said, shaking his head.

“Awesome. Thanks. Oh, I have a job, so is it okay if I check my schedule and let you know when I can be back?”

“Are you kidding me?” Aaron asked. “You know this takes time and dedication, right?”

Geez, I thought I’d won that dude over.

“I wasn’t trying to be a jerk,” I explained. “I just got cut from the soccer team and I have to have a job because I lost my scholarship.”

“Damn,” Josh said, grabbing a black hoodie off the chair next to me.

“Yeah, well—” Aaron’s eyes lost some of their fighting flare. “See you later, Auden.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Josh said.

I climbed the steps two at a time, pushed the door open, and held it for Josh, who was on my heels.

“Holy shit. I’m in a band,” I said, unable to contain my excitement.

“Welcome to the jungle.” Josh cupped a hand around his cigarette and flicked his lighter multiple times to unfavorable results. The blustery winds wouldn’t let up, so I stood in front of him to shield the next gust. “You’re a kick-ass girl,” he said, turning his head and blowing the smoke away from me.