“Oh, I don’t sing. But my friend Sophie —” I said it so quietly that Jack moved right on to the next band member.

“What do you play, Ethan?”

Ethan hesitated. “Guitar, piano, sax, drums …”

“Okay, we get it. Genius. Emme, how about you?”

“Oh, I play piano and guitar mostly. I played flute when I was little, but …”

“Yeah, we don’t need a flutist for our awesome rock band.”

Ben interrupted. “Why do you automatically assume we’re a rock band?”

“Oh, is this our first fight as a band? And things were going so well!” Jack’s large belly laugh echoed through the cafeteria. “I can already see the documentary on us now: ‘When CPA Cliché started off —’”

“What’s CPA Cliché?” Ben asked.

“Our band name. What’s the most cliché thing to do at CPA? I’ll answer that for you: Form a rock band! And we’re doing it on the first day. I wonder if we can get extra credit?”

“We are not naming our band CPA Cliché,” Ben protested.

“So you agree we’re in a band, then?” Jack looked around the table. Ethan shrugged and looked at me. All I could think to do was shrug back. I was just happy to have people talking to me.

Ben took a notebook from his bag. “All right, someone needs to be serious about this. Ethan, guitar. Ben, bass. Emme, keyboard-slash-guitar. Jack, drums.”

“Oh, so you assume I play drums because I’m a brother?” Jack asks.

“No, I assume you play drums because you’ve been knocking out a beat with your silverware since we sat down.” Ben nodded toward Jack’s hands, which were indeed wrapped around a spoon and fork as if they were drumsticks.

“Fair enough.” Jack dropped his silverware and took a bite of his chip.

The back-and-forth between Jack and Ben continued for the rest of the period as they plotted our rise and subsequent fall from stardom. I was upset to hear that I was going to have a drug problem and Jack was going to bravely lead an intervention to save me. Which would be all for naught when, on the night before our big comeback tour, Ethan would tragically die in a car accident.

Jack shook his head sadly. “So much promise …”

As we all got up from our seats, Ethan finally spoke up. “What exactly happened just now?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’m not entirely sure, but I believe we’re in a band with Jack and Ben. Although you need to be sure to always wear a seat belt.”

He smiled. “Oh, okay. You should stay away from the smack.”

“I’ll try.”

“Cool.”

Now, three years later, we’re still talking about the future of our band.

“So nobody wants to hear what lies in store for us?” Jack pretends to be hurt. “You all want to throw away something we’ve worked so hard on?” He scrunches his face up like he’s about to cry. “That’s fine, that’s fine.”

Ben sighs. “Oh, you are such the martyr.”

“Well, at least you understand my role.” Jack wipes off his pretend tears with a napkin.

“Yeah, but if it wasn’t for me, we’d still be called CPA Cliché.”

Everybody at the table groans. For weeks we couldn’t come up with a name for our band, and Jack had plenty. After we all vetoed CPA Cliché, we swiftly turned down Jack’s other suggestions: Jack and the Irish (since the rest of us have Irish last names: Connelly, Quinn, and McWilliams), Black and the Irish (Jack’s warped sense of humor), and his personal favorite, Jack and the Not-So-All-Star Band.

Ethan came up with Dissonance Youth, which we didn’t think any non-music people would get. Ben and I were trying to come up with similarly obscure references, then suggested we just call the band Obscure Reference. Jack vetoed that. He didn’t want there to be anything obscure about our band; he isn’t into obscurity … or subtlety.

Then, as with everything about our band, our name sort of just came to us. Ethan started playing the opening chords of the Undertones’ “Teenage Kicks” during rehearsal for our first gig and it just stuck. Teenage Kicks. We know that pigeonholes us as a teen band, but that’s what we are.

The thought that this is our last year together makes me a little sad. I guess everybody is thinking the same thing, because Ben finally says, “Okay, what happens to us next, O wise one?”

Jack replies, “I’ve realized that I’ve been a little too hard on Red here.” That’s the understatement of the year. In every telling of our story, I end up with some horrible addiction … and Ethan dies tragically. Of course Jack becomes a huge star and Ben is some weird recluse who raises llamas or something. “I think you’re going to like this one, Red.”

I doubt it.

“We become instant sensations after we open for U2.” Nobody bothers to ask how we went from CPA to opening for U2, we just go with it. “Bono obviously becomes jealous of my dynamic personality and charisma.”

“Obviously,” Ben says with a dramatic rolling of the eyes.

“So he produces Jack and the Background Players —”

“Wait,” Ben interrupts. “When did we get a new name and why on —”

“Hey! I’m telling a story here. So he produces the band’s album and we become major stars. Soon U2 is opening for us. You know, because it’s important to remember those little people who have helped you along the way. Soon tension begins in the band as the attention shifts from our beanpole of a lead singer —”

“Hey, I’ve gained some weight this summer, thank you very much,” Ethan protests.

Jack gasps. “Yeah, you are probably what, a buck fifteen soaking wet? Big improvement.”

I shake my head; the last thing we need to do is make Ethan even more self-conscious about his appearance. It took me two years to get him into jeans and T-shirts that actually fit. And then I swear he grew another six inches.

“Okay, so the attention shifts from our bulking stud of a lead singer to the magnetic drummer.”

Ethan interrupts. “Yes, because that often happens with drummers.” Jack glares at him. “But do go on….”

“You’re all obviously jealous of the attention I receive.”

“Obviously,” Ben and I say in unison.

“But things get even more complicated as Red realizes that Ben will never return her feelings for him.”

“Um.” I know better than to try to reason with him, but I try anyway. “Maybe the fact that Ben’s gay has something to do with that?”

Jack nods at me with such sympathy. “But the heart, it wants what it wants.”

“Sorry, Emme, this —” Ben gestures at me. “Not my thing.”

Ethan begins to bang his head against the table. “Okay, we do have an audition next week, so can we please get on with this?”

Jack finally gives up. “Fine. I leave you all to become a ginormous star and marry an Oscar-winning actress-slash-Victoria’s Secret model, while Ethan dies by getting hit by a bike messenger while busking outside a subway station, Ben goes to Montana to raise wild goats, and Red, to recover from her heartbreak over Ben’s rejection, turns to her old friend Jack Daniel’s. Happy?”

Ben claps. “That it’s over? Yes.”

“Wait, how exactly is this being easier on me?” I ask. “I still have an addiction and I’m miserable.”

“You guys wanted the short version.” Jack shrugs his shoulders and dives into his food.

Both Ben and Ethan glare at me, not wanting to prolong this any more.

“Plus” — Jack shoves a few fries into his mouth — “I thought it was best to make it short and sweet. We don’t want Mount Saint Emme erupting again.”

Ethan’s fork drops, Ben looks down at the floor, and I just sit there with my mouth open. I can’t believe Jack would bring up … The Incident.

Jack realizes, too late, what he’s done. “You know, I …”

“Oh, so now you’re at a loss for words?” Ethan says through clenched teeth. “Two seconds too late.” He gets up to go to the bathroom.

“Emme …” Jack’s voice is a low whisper.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I’m the one …”

I don’t even want to think about what happened this summer. Ethan and I haven’t talked about it since. Nobody has.