I Put My Faith In You

I sighed and spoke into the phone, "Just get here as fast as you can, ok?"

Setting the receiver down, I picked up the brand new Spin magazine I had just bought earlier that day and re-read the short yet blunt article over and over again.

Bridget White, newcomer to record label Fueled By Ramen as singer of pop-punk band Fade the Night, has a lot to learn from predecessor Hayley Williams, frontwoman of Paramore.

Although their vocal range on and offstage are nearly identical, White's live performance is lacking in energy where as Williams's is never without it. Also, where Williams isn't afraid to belt it out, White has a set limit on how high and how long she can stretch a note without her voice turning into complete dust.

No matter the differences in their live performances and body types (White struts a 5'7 frame whilst Williams fills only a 5'1 figure), the two share many similarities in style and stage preferences. Prior to joining the record label, White's hair remained a chestnut brown color but only recently did she dye the bottom half of her mane a bright-aqua blue. Williams, on the other hand, had been dying her hair since moving to Franklin, Tennessee.

Pre-FBR fashion for White consisted of oversized tee's and regular jeans as it did for Williams, and now wardrobe consists of skinny jeans in all colors with all different sorts of tees, as it does for both female vocalists.

The last thing that White singlehandedly stole from Williams's wardrobe, or should we say drawer, is her outlandish makeup techniques. Not only should White stick to her simple raccoon eyeliner, but while Williams is taking White under her wing for vocal lessons it might be best for the music, and perhaps even makeup, industry if Bridget was taught a little about makeup application as well. -S.

I sighed. Well, sorry that my band formed a year or two after Paramore did and that Hayley seems to have invented multi-colored skinny jeans. < /sarcasm >

After a few more minutes of staring at the harshly written article, I grabbed the folded up magazine in my hands and threw it as hard as I could at the small trash can in the corner.

I groaned loudly and leaned my head against the cold surface of the mirrored vanity in the venue's dressing room. Shortly afterwards, there was a frantic knock on the door.

"Bree, let me in."

***

"What's up? Are you O.K.?" Ryan asked, genuinely concerned.

In answer to his question, I kicked the trash recepticle over and the once-folded Spin! magazine fell out, closing on the bookmarked article. He sighed and flipped through the magazine, looking for the article that made me upset this time around.

After finding it and reading it thoroughly, he leaned up against the vanity, just as I was, and calmly said, "Why do you let this stuff get to you?"

"I don't, it just...does."

Ryan looked at me questioningly and I sighed, knowing I'd have to go further into my explanations.

"Remember the advice you gave me at our "initiation to Fueled By Ramen" party? That first night we became best friends? You told me that people were going to give me more shit because I'm the only girl in our band and that I have to look past the negative comments and look at the big picture that I'm in a better position then most of those people cause I have friends and family who care for me and a great job. Remember that?"

Ryan thought for a while before nodding. I took this as my cue to continue, "Well, I haven't been able to do that, Ryan. One comment means nothing but if it's more then one person saying it, then you know there's something wrong. What's wrong with me?"

Ryan's eyes widened. "There is nothing wrong with you, got that? These people," he said, holding up and waving around the magazine, "don't write the full story. They don't get all the facts, they don't know what they're talking about! Bree, why do you listen to these... stories? Why do you feel like it's the truth when you yourself know that it's not?"

I shrugged, sighed and planted my tush on the vanity countertop. Ryan sighed and began again.

"I talked to Eric, your brother, on my way in. He said you haven't been you for this whole tour, Bree. You've been upset and letting the media push you around. You haven't been happy for all of fall and it's winter now, Bree."

The thin-framed boy joined me on the vanity and I scooted over to allow for some room between us.

"Bridget, it's winter... Christmas is in a few weeks!" Ryan exclaimed, his voice sounding not as sure as he had wanted it to. His attempts to cheer me up had been feeble. "Look, like I've said, these magazines don't print the truth. Just go out there and put on the best show you can. You don't have to prove them wr-"

"But I do, Ryan. I do have to prove to myself that I'm not like Hayley." I stated. "I'm not Hayley. I'm me, Bridget. And I have to prove that I am capable of being greater than what people expect of me. And if they expect me to be Hayley, how'm I gonna break that? She's fuckin' awesome!"

"They don't expect you to be Hayley though, Bree. They think you're like Hayley, which you're not. The mannerisms and personality are way too different. I bet if you went out there in a total 70's get up they'd find a way to compare you to me, alright? So just-"

BINGO.

***

Apparently, I had made some sort of face because the next thing I know, Ryan was snapping his fingers before my eyes saying, "Woah, Bree? Are you okay? What's wrong with your face?"

I scowled, slapping his fingers away from my face. Smiling sweetly and jumping off the counter, I turned towards Ryan and kissed his cheek lightly.

"Nothing is wrong with my face, genius. You are a genius." I grabbed my makeup bag, which had been shoved against the vanity mirror by my back, and put it into Ryan's hands. "You are going to do my makeup tonight, mmkay?"

I pulled him off the desk and sat where he was previously, so that he was in the proper state to do makeup. I closed my eyes and waited for eyeliner, eyeshadow, blush, or anything to be applied but I got nothing. I popped my eyes back open and one word was stamped across Ryan's forehead: clueless. I snapped my fingers in front of his face and he blinked a few times, coming out of his blank state.

"Look, you just said that the media only compare me to Hayley because basically, we're both girls and that if I went out there in a total Panic!-esque get up, they'd compare me to you!," I said, excited with my discovery.

"...so you'd rather be compared to me?," Ryan asked, attempting to understand the utter brilliance of my plan. I rolled my eyes and smacked him in the back of the head.

"'The mannerisms and personality are way too different'. Get it, now? If they compare me to you after tonight, then I know that they just like tearing me apart for the sake of it, those lifeless bas-"

"Close your eyes, let's get started."

***

Ten minutes later, I heard Ryan mutter under his breath. Without opening my eyes I asked what was wrong.

"Your liquid eyeliner is a different brand then mine, I don't think it'll work. I'll try though," he replied. I simply nodded. I immediately felt the cool drag of the makeup being applied to my eyelid and settled down. Soon afterward the application brush spread to my midcheek and I smiled at my plan being set into action. "No smiling," Ryan commanded, "it creases your skin."

Well, fine.

Time passed and before I knew it, my makeup was completed by the one and only Ryan Ross. He tapped my knee and told me I could open my eyes and when I did, he smiled. I rolled my eyes.

"No smiling, it creases your skin," I instructed sarcastically, giving Ryan another slap upside the head. He continued to smile whilst looking at his painted canvas, my face. I jumped off the vanity and faced the mirror. Now we were both smiling.

Let's just say he did a REALLY good job. I looked as if I were wearing a thin masquerade mask or as if I were a member of Panic! This plan of ours was flowing smoothly so far, and by the rising level of adrenaline in me I could tell that it would continue to go as planned. I was so excited I didn't think, I just did.

I kissed Ryan out of sheer excitement. Not once or twice either, I grabbed his face by the sides and crashed my lips onto his about five or six times. And then I realized what I was doing.

Shit.

I didn't move from where I was, nor was I even able to apologize for the sudden act of affection. All I could do was stare into his shocked brown eyes.

"I..."

That's all I was able to get out before Ryan placed both of his hands on the side of my face like I had done to him only seconds ago and locked me into the longest kiss I had been in since, well... ever. There was a knock on the door, and Eric, my brother and our band's rhythm guitarist yelled, "Five minutes, Bree."

I smiled at Ryan and headed out the door, leaving him in his thoughts. Right after I exited the room an idea hit me and I stuck my head back into the room. Ryan was sitting in the chair in front of the vanity looking at his intertwined thumbs, either really tired or deep in thought.

"Hey, Ry... crash the cover song?"

He looked up at me through the mirror, offered a smile, and nodded.

***

I have never sweat so much in my life. As Ryan instructed, I came out here and was putting on the best show that I could. I never stopped moving from one side of the stage to the other and I think I went into the crowd twice already. I like to think of this as making up for the shows earlier on in the tour where I didn't live up to the fan's expectations all because of the media's assumptions.

Tonight, I was definitely living up to the crowd's expectations. And my own.
Did I mention that I've never sweat so much in my life?

In between songs, Justin, a guitar tech, even threw me a towel. Yeah. And thank god for Clinical Strength Deodorant. I quickly wiped my neck and hairline of the sweat that had gathered there and turned back to the audience. My energy level was still skyhigh and we were on the last song of the night, which was a cover of Bayside's "Carry On."

"Alright guys. This," I said, pointing down as an indication. The microphone was pressed against my mouth and I was pretty sure you could hear my breathing. I continued, "is the last song of the night. It's not even our song. It's by this band. This band named Bayside. I love this band, and this song, it's called..."

As the opening riffs began, I yelled, "Carry On!"

Cheers from the audience and I began to jump everywhere, headbang, and just full on move to the music.

"Sing with me! Don't confuse neediness for love..."

***

The song was already halfway through and Ryan hadn't come out yet. The song was entering the considerably slower bridge and I continued on.

"My face is red, and people change, I've changed for good this time..."

And then I heard his voice. Well actually, I heard the audiences screams first. He had walked onstage, clad in a full Panic! outfit, makeup and everything. And then I heard him.

"I just can't handle this, I'm just so scared of it, A challenge fit for a man when I'm just a kid... I'm all torn at the seams, just like you said I'd be! If this is love, then I don't want a part of it..."

Somewhere in the middle of that, I began to recover from my shock and sang along, albeit not very loudly. However, as he repeated it for the second time, we sang it to each other. The fans were singing along louder than ever, and soon the bridge was over and Ryan took his exit.

Not before kissing me again though. Again, I was so shocked that I missed the first line of the following verse and caught up with the audience on the second line. The song ended, which concluded the concert. But the fun had just begun.

***

"According to fans who attended the Las Vegas show of the recent Fade The Night tour, Bridget White seems to have hit zen.

Early shows on that tour were not very entertaining but according to our sources, the last show was mind-blowing. Some have even said that it was the best concert of their life.

Ryan Ross, guitarist of Panic! at the Disco, even lent his vocals to the cover of Bayside's Carry On at the end of the night, which was another crowd pleaser.

What Spin can't help but notice is the way White presented herself: black skinny jeans, a white tank, and a vest with makeup imitating a masquerade mask.

Ryan Ross was similarly dressed. The sim-"

I smiled and threw the magazine onto the counter.