Flutter

And I knew from the first note played
I'd be breaking all my rules to see you
You smile that beautiful smile
And all the girls in the front row scream your name

So dim that spotlight, tell me things like
I can't take my eyes off of you
I'm no one special, just another wide-eyed girl
Who's desperately in love with you
Give me a photograph to hang on my wall
Superstar

-Superstar by Taylor Swift

May 31, 2010
12:23 PM
Dining Room at the Hilton Oklahoma City-Oklahoma City, OK

“And so I said ‘No, Mr. President. I like your shoes!’” Everyone at the table laughed, and Joe just smiled in pride. Nick, sitting next to me, leaned in and whispered in my ear.

“You don’t have to laugh. He tells that story to everyone.” I give him a small smile.

“It’s funny. I’d pay good money to see George Bush running around in Pink patent leather shoes.”

“Double if they’re pumps,” he replied. I let out a snort at the mental picture of the former president, and my mom’s old boss, running around in heels. My mother, though born and raised in England, worked as a political advisor in the US for a summer after finally getting her degree in International Relations at Cambridge. She ended up getting an internship working for Bush’s dad, and then worked for Bush Jr. afterwards. So yeah, I knew him. And yeah, we’d visited him earlier in the year when he’d moved back to Dallas. It was just another name to add to the list of celebrities I’d met…and that no one believed.

“Excuse me,” someone said. Nick and I both turned in our seats to see a young girl, maybe thirteen or so, standing there with a napkin and pen in hand. I knew exactly what she wanted the moment she walked up. “Hi…uhm, I’m sorry for interrupting you guys,” she said shyly, “but is there any way I could maybe…get your autographs?” I looked around the table, and Denise was smiling sweetly at the girl. Nick smiled too, and took her paper from her hands, scribbling an illegible name on it, and passing it on to the next brother, Kevin.

“We always have time for an autograph,” Joe said, taking the paper once Kevin was done, and signing it, then handing it back to the girl, who gave an embarrassed smile and wave, and walked away. I leaned towards Nick.

“That seemed pretty routine,” I said quietly, tearing off a piece of banana nut muffin and popping it in my mouth.

“It is,” he replied just as quietly.

“What are you two talking about over there?” Joe asked, a sly smile on his lips. I looked down, and then started cutting my eggs up with my fork, shrugging as if I were unaffected.

“Just how ridiculous your bowtie is.” There was a collective giggle from the girls at the table, and Joe looked down, as if he could see the brown tweed monstrosity gracing his neck.

“It is not ridiculous,” he stated slowly, tightening it and making a small frowny face. Demi patted him on the shoulder and gave me a small smile after the table, rolling her eyes. They acted like my parents. A lot. It was actually kind of funny to watch. Last night, after Molly and I had caught Nick staring at me, things were a bit…awkward at first. I didn’t really know how to approach that. Why was he staring? I’d never had a guy look at me like that, not even past boyfriends. Like he was almost…intrigued. And maybe a little confused? Like he was trying to figure me out. I’m not that hard to figure out in the first place. As I’d made very clear via my blog, my life was pretty much an open book as far as my feelings towards things go. The only thing I didn’t talk about was my past at the Sullivan school, with acting and singing and everything, but hardly anyone knew about that.

So if everything was obvious to the world…why wasn’t it to him?

I’d tried to approach things as if nothing had happened. I joked around with him as he did his pre-bedtime ritual of tucking Frankie in (which I could understand-I did the same thing for Libs most of the time), and then brushing his teeth for two minutes exactly, follow by-get this-a face mask. Not even kidding. Apparently all of them did it. It explained why their skin was so damn clear, yeah. But it was a little bit weird, to say the least. All well. Took away any right he had to make fun of me when I did the same later on. During the whole ten minutes he had it on, Demi and I suppressed our giggles and channeled our humor into something more creative…like making up nicknames for the boy running around with a green face on our bus. We came up with everything from “Martian boy” to “Sex in the City wanna be,” the entire time Mama Jonas laughing with us. I could see how easy it was to be part of this huge family-this crazy, wonderful family-just from the few hours I’d spent with them. They were amazing. Always jumping to each other’s or our defense, never judging, always teasing. And they really made an effort to include us newbies. From Nick and Kevin getting Brendan and Tanner to have an impromptu rock out session on the guitars, to Joe strutting around in a pair of Molly’s heels and singing single ladies with her, just for the hell of it. They were trying to make us feel welcome; and I did feel that way.

After we’d retreated to bed, my phone vibrated, and I jumped, freaked. I pulled it out from its little cubby where it was charging in the far corner of my bunk. These things were bigger than they looked. They all had TV’s overhead, with DVD players, and little places to hang things on the wall, with a set of cubbies for clothes and a little charging dock. I had my clothes ready for the morning in there, with my purse hanging up and all my electronics charging, and was watching, to my embarrassment, The Jonas Brothers: The Concert Experience. It was included in a giant binder of stuff that Ann had given us, which we needed to know/watch/read to be able to write our articles accurately. It included everything from the aforementioned movie, to lists of every song they’ve ever done (including covers, the list was about six pages long), to bands associated with them in any way. It was, to put lightly, a quite heavy book.

New Text!
From: Demi
Message: boo!
I slid the phone open and the text screen came up, and I typed a reply. She replied almost instantly, and I opened my curtain, looking over to where she was still sitting in her bunk with the curtain half open.

Mickie: Ohhh, you scared me. (Note the sarcasm.)

Demi: Bull. I so did. I heard your phone vibrate and then you jumped.

Mickie: Whateverrrr, stalker. What’s up?

Demi: Texting Joe :)

Mickie: Barf.

Demi: Looks like you’ve got your own lover boy. What was going on with you and Nick earlier? You looked pretty cozy on the couch in the blue bus :)

Mickie: You saw that?

Demi: These eyes see everything. You should know this by now :)

Mickie: You use smiley’s too much.

Demi: You’re avoiding the subject.
She knew me too well. I was avoiding the subject. I didn’t know how to explain what was happening with Nick. He was…well, confusing.

Mickie: I’m avoiding it because I’m confused. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow.

I went to bed before she could say anything else. And as soon as we woke up, she attacked me. I avoided it again, and was saved when Denise said we only had an hour till we got to the hotel in Oklahoma, so we all rushed into showers and got ready. After donning a pair of denim shorts and a pink flowered babydoll tank, we got our stuff together for the next day and went to the hang out bus, which we rode for a few hours. When Demi approached me again, after Joe had gone to play a game of Guitar Hero with Frankie, I dragger her to the corner of the room near the kitchenette, and we sat on the couches as I basically spilled my guts to her. About our conversation on the couch, about the little glances he’d thrown me afterwards, and finally the feeling I’d gotten every time he was anywhere near me.

“But he’s basically my boss,” I said with a sigh. “I can’t…you know…like him. It’d just be too awkward.”

“That’s what I thought,” Demi said, resting her head on her hand. “Joe is one of my best friends. But after a while, I didn’t really feel that way anymore. We already knew so much about each other, we got along so well. And we had a few little…moments there where I knew that both of us didn’t really feel much like friends anymore. It just kind of…worked.” I gave her a smile.

“But I just met Nick. We aren’t even really…friends yet.”

“Yet being the operative term,” she said with a shrug. “Get to know him. Trust me, he’s worth it.” And that was it. With a small, knowing smile, she got up from the couch with a little eyebrow wiggle and walked off to cheer Joe on, leaving me in my own thoughts. Molly eventually came around to see what was up, and I explained things to her too. All of it was coming at me so quickly, so strongly, and I had no idea what to do.

When this whole thing started, I can tell you right now; honestly, that I had no idea it was going to be this much work. That night at the concert, my mind was set on backstage passes, sitting around and sipping Diet Coke and gossiping about celebrities (not that I ever did the latter…gossiping and myself didn’t really get along). But it was way much more than that, as I’d learned that first day in Oklahoma. First thing after we got to the hotel, still full from the pancakes Mama J had made us on the bus, most of us, meaning myself, Molly, Demi, the three brothers, the members of Disco Curtis, Dee Dee and Paul (the band members and Kat were back at the hotel with Mama J and Frankie), were all whisked away to a radio station in downtown for an early afternoon interview. While the real stars were being interviewed, Molly and I sat back, taking notes on our phones (I’d figured out how to type on it-quite fast, actually) at high speeds. How things went, what questions they asked. Until, that is, they got to questions about us. Seriously. I didn’t see it coming, and didn’t notice until I’d typed “journalists on tour with you” into my phone.

“Well, it’s pretty cool having them with us,” Kevin said. “They write down pretty much everything we do, which is kind of weird, but other than that, it’s like havening friends with us.”

“Molly is around our age,” Tanner said, gesturing to himself and two of the members of his band, along with Joe. “And Mickie is about Brendan and Nick’s age, so it kind of works. Plus, we’ve known both of them for a while.”

“That’s right!” the DJ called, wagging a finger. “You ended up hiring members of your back up band’s street team to follow you.” I looked at Molly, and she was shaking her head, wordlessly typing on her phone. The questions about us stopped. No one mentioned me knowing Demi. No one mentioned my past at Cathryn’s. Yet.

As soon as the interview was done, we went straight back to the hotel for lunch, finally arriving there around noon. Hijinks and the seemingly usual laughter and craziness continued, until about one thirty when we loaded back into the hang out bus, the other two following, and rushed to the Ford Center in the middle of downtown, where fans were already lined up-literally around the block-outside. I vaguely remembered standing outside of the Staples Center in Jersey with my cousin, trying to blend in with the fans that were just as rabid as these, screaming and jumping like the boys arriving in the large tour busses were gods on earth. My acting skills greatly improved thanks to those days.

First was soundcheck. I know, it sounds so obvious. But seriously, it was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while. Because, well, you know how the guys are supposed to have that tendency to dress up for soundcheck every day? Well, they did. Ohhh, boy, they did. When they came out, in full suit and tie, pastel colors I might add (Joe in pink, of course), the girls behind us screamed. Joe had his hair partially straightened, and slicked to the sides. Kind of….nerdy? Molly giggled next to me. Kevin had his hair normal, with curls going everywhere. And Nick…well Nick was a totally different story. His hair was slicked back on the top and sides, with a large bump in the front, a single curl hanging on his forehead. The boys of Disco Curtis were decked in similar pastel and grey suits, and I had to fight a laugh when I first saw them. I’d never seen any of them out of skinny jeans or sweatpants, the latter of which had been at the unruly hour we were at their school for the music video shoot. Pretty much everyone was dressed up, from Mama and Papa J, who were dressed in a pretty floral dress and a wonderfully flamboyant pastel vest and tie over his usual jeans and a button up respectively, to the backup band, matching the rest of the boys, all the way to little Frankie, who had on a cute little dark blue suit jacket over his jeans.

And you think we were off the hook for dressing up too? You’d be wrong. When Molly and I got backstage to see everyone get ready for soundcheck, I’d raised my eyebrows at the light pink dress they handed Demi, which matched Joe’s. “It’s 60’s day!” she’d said, grinning. “This tour is a little different. We have themed soundchecks, and Paul and the crew pick a song that most of us know towards the end. Everyone dresses up,” she finished, giving a small nod towards the racks on the other side of her dressing room. I then noticed that they had paper with names taped on the side; Molly and Mickie. At first, I refused. Dressing up? What were we, five? But then, once I saw the clothes set out, all the wonderful, lovely, vintage dresses, I stopped fighting. A chance to hang out in one of these? I’d take it any day. Vintage clothes fit so much better than modern ones; half of my wardrobe was taken up by old tunics and cute a line dresses from the small shops in Dallas. They cost a fortune, but were way more flattering than the stuff in the JC Penny’s Junior’s department. I ended up choosing a floral dress similar to Denise’s, with a dark navy top and white skirt with small blue and pink flowers along the bottom. Molly’s was also very similar, with a burnt orange top and orange and green flowers on the bottom.

While the group of fans who had soundcheck and meet&greet passes had to sit in the tenth row and back, Molly and myself, along with Frankie, Dee Dee, Danielle, Mama J and everyone else who wasn’t needed on stage, were sitting on the two front rows, listening to Papa J warm everyone up. I had my feet propped up against the wall of the stage (my shorts preventing anyone on stage from seeing anything that wasn’t meant to be shown), my laptop rested on my legs, typing away with Molly. We were writing down things as they happened, pausing every once in a while to look up and sing with the boys, when suddenly, as Joe chugged down a bottle of water as if his life depended on it, music started playing.

Not just any music, though.

A song that definitely wasn’t on the set list I’d seen earlier.

“Hey there teenage Baltimore! Don’t change that channel, cause it’s time for the Cornie Collins show, brought to you by Ultra Clutch Hairspray!” blared through the speakers. Joe looked shocked, and water dribbled out of his mouth. I sputtered a giggle, and heard Molly laugh next to me.

“Yes!” Nick called, his fists pumping up in the air.

“All right!” Danielle stood up, mimicking Nick’s gesture, and running up the stairs still out, right onto stage. I raised an eyebrow, and looked at Molly. She shrugged, while the group of girls behind us cheered. Hairspray? I mean, it was one of my favorite movies, but really?

“Come on!” Nick gestured to all of us, and Frankie stood up behind us and ran behind Danielle, followed by his mother, Kat and Dee Dee. Tanner, AJ, Brendan, Garrett and Demi ran on stage, all in costume still. Nick looked down at us. “Come on!”

“Us?” I asked, a finger gesturing between myself and Molly. He nodded, holding a hand out. I set my computer down and let him hoist me on stage. He helped Molly up, and Tanner grabbed her by both hands, and then started dancing just as the first “cause they’re the nicest kids in town” played. I looked at Nick, and he shrugged, and then we both broke out into a bit of a crazy swing dance. I pretended I didn’t know the dance by heart. We laughed and sang, all of us singing Cornie’s part as loudly as possible. Molly and Demi both gave me cursory glances, but I shrugged. There was really no way anyone could hear me singing. Everyone, including the people in the audience, was singing at the top of their lungs, so there was nothing for me to worry about it.

“Who needs to read and write when you can dance and sing? Yeah!”

“Everyone line up! It’s Role Call!” Paul yelled over the music. “Say your name like they do in the movie!” We started to line up, and finally got organized, Molly in front of me, Nick behind, in the far back of the line, just as James Marsden’s voice said “-r-r-ROLL CALL!”

“I’m Danielle!” she moved to the side and started dancing, just like in the movie. I laughed, and listened, moving forward as everyone named off. I was having, in a word, a marvelous time.

“Kevin!”

“Ryan!”

“Frankie!” He did a cute little guitar strum like Fender in the movie, and we all laughed.

“Denise!”

“AJ!”

“Paul!”

“Brendan!”

“Garrett!”

“Katherine!”

“Jack!”

“JT!”

“Dee Dee!”

“Joe!”

“Tanner!”

“Garbo!”

“Demi!” Molly stood up and did the little thing like the twins in the movie, with her thumb up and head tilted, and I did the same thing. I realized that we were supposed to be the twins; even if we did look nothing alike. If we were the twins, that meant that Nick was supposed to be….

“Molly!”

“Mickie!” I stepped to the side, and watched Nick as he did his miniature Elvis impersonation.

“And I’m…” *insert hip shake here* “Nick!”

“So if every night you’re shakin as you lie in bed,” we all sang, and then I faced Nick just as he turned to me, and started to do the Pony. He followed along, picking up the move in two swift beats. We danced and danced, and I watched as Tanner and Molly cracked up every time either of them shook their head in a funny, too raunchy for the 60’s kind of way. I saw Big Rob standing in the corner of the stage, watching, amused. I probably would be too, if I saw myself doing the Mashed Potato. I’d known the dances since I first saw the movie a few years back, and Rosie, Lissy, along with our large group of friends, had done a few parodies of it on YouTube, most of which had been deleted.

“They’re the nicest kids in,” there was a pause, and everyone ran up to where Nick and I were, still near the center of the stage. “Kids in town! Whoo!” We posed, and suddenly there were camera flashes. Demi was the first to laugh. Soon, the rest of us were collapsing onto the floor of the stage, cracking up, exhausted.

“Oh,” Molly breathed out, laughing. We laid next to each other, her head resting on Tanner’s chest.

“My god.” I finished her sentence. I was laying extremely close to Nick. “That was…”

“So much fun,” she said, grinning at me.

“Do you two do that a lot?” Joe asked, collapsed next to Demi.

“What?” we both asked at the same time. I glanced over at her, and we smiled.

“Finish each other’s sentences,” Kevin said.

“And talk at the same time,” Danielle added.

“Yep,” we both answered, grinning.

“You should see Mickie and Rosie,” Brendan said. He was sprawled out next to me, Kat on his other side. “It’s ridiculous.” I reached my arm out, swatting him on the chest, and he just laughed. So much for a point. I’m way too weak.

“Picture time!” Pappa J said, standing up. “Then we’ve gotta go get cleaned up for Meet and Greet.” God, how horrible I must look, I thought. All sweaty and gross and shiny.

“Here,” Molly said, pulling something out of her concealed pocket in the side of her skirt. It was a small compact that read Mary Kay. I opened it and saw a light shade of pressed powder.

“Mols, have I told you lately how amazing you are?” I asked, as I peered into the mirror while blotting some of the powder on my forehead, nose and chin. My cheeks, having combination skin, were still matte.

“Mickie, you look fine!” Nick called, jogging over to us. When I turned around, he was equally as shiny as I was, and without thinking, I took the powder puff in my hand and stuff it smack dab in the middle of his forehead.

“Yeah, but you don’t!” He looked shocked. And then, he busted out laughing. And Molly and I joined it.

“Could you get the rest? So I don’t look like a total idiot?” He leaned towards me, making a ridiculous face, and my breath hitched. He was literally two inches from my face, and I could feel his breath on my nose. Before I could embarrass myself, I quickly blotted the rest of his forehead and hose, shut the compact, and handed it back to Molly. She sarcastically muttered something about having to buy a new powder puff as we walked over to pose for the picture, and we both just rolled our eyes.

After the sound check, my second favorite part of getting ready for shows was lockdown. The thirty minutes before opening band (in this case, DC) had to go get miked up, we all separated into different rooms. The Jonas family was in their dressing room, the members of Disco Curtis in there’s, Dee Dee and Demi in hers, the back up band in a corner backstage, each taking some quiet time to relax, read, listen to music. Whatever they needed to do to prep for the show. Molly, Kat and I, being promoters and writers and not really needing to prepare, walked around the venue, smiling at the overexcited fans, and even participating in a few rounds of video karaoke, which they had set up in the lobby. A few seemed to recognize us, whispering to their friends behind their hands with wide eyes. Kat seemed to be used to it. Molly was flattered. I was weirded out. Okay. So I had one youtube video with Nick (and Joe, to some extent). But was it really that big of a deal? I knew these guys were famous, but come on!

When Demi texted me, saying they were about to come out of lockdown, we headed back. The envious glares of the girls already seated as we flashed our backstage passes (I know! Even though I kinda guessed it, I was still excited to hold the thin in my hand. The only shows I’d ever been backstage for was the DC shows, and those were, well, nothing big) to the guard working near the curtains leading to the dressing rooms made me smile to myself. When we finally got back to the large room joining the bathrooms, people were starting to circle up. I glanced at Molly, and she just shrugged. Kat rushed forward and grabbed Mikey and Mama J’s hands, so I took the nearest spot I could, which, funnily enough (not), ended up being between Brendan and Nick. I grasped Brendan’s hand, and then turned to Nick. He smiled at me and held out his hand, and I slowly took it. Once we were all linked up, Papa J looked around, and then started talking.

“So, a lot of you are new to us. And that’s okay. We like teaching people new things.” He smiled. “I’m pretty sure all of you are okay with praying, as I’ve seen some sort of gospel or cross with everyone, but you don’t have to pray with us if you don’t want to. For those of you who are, I’m going to say a prayer for us out loud, and then I’ll give you all a minute to make your own silent prayer.” He looked around again, and Nick, Joe, Kevin and Denise nodded. “Dearest heavenly Father,” he started, and I saw Nick bow his head and close his eyes. We all followed. “We come to you today in prayer not only in need, but in thanks. We thank you that you’ve brought all of us this far. To where we are today, together, happy, healthy. We thank you that you’ve brought us together, this mish mosh group of teenagers and adults.” I smiled, as I’m pretty sure everyone else did. We were a pretty mixed group. “We thank you for the newest additions to our family, friends, and colleagues, as they all bring something special to the plate we hope makes everyone happy every day.” Nick squeezed my hand, and I felt myself grinning as I squeezed his back. “We ask that you carry us through tonight safely, and that you protect everyone as they go about our own jobs, and that you help everyone be the best we can be.” There was silence, and I took it as our time to pray. I was still for a few seconds, trying to find my words inside my head.

Dear God, I thought to myself. I know it hasn’t been that long. I mean, I prayed to you on Sunday. But somehow, with out Robby, I’m lost as to what to say. I know, I should be able to pray by myself, I’ve been doing it for fifteen years. I don’t really have much to say…just thank you. For giving me this awesome opportunity. For letting me meet Molly and Kat and everyone else in this crazy group. For letting me do what I love. Please help the boys get through this tour. Err-the boys and Demi. She needs it the most, as she’ll be dealing with them. Give us all the patience to deal with Joe, and the ability to know what to do if a tough situation arises. In your name we pray, Amen.

I opened my eyes, and about half the group was doing the same. Within a few minutes, the rest of the group had finished, and were waiting for Paul.

“And all these things we ask in your name,” he finished. “Amen.”

“Amen,” we all muttered in response.

“Now LET’S DO THIS!” Joe yelled. I’ll admit, it was slightly amusing to see. And the buzz that followed us after pre-show warm ups…well, that was what made things all the better.

June 2, 2010
11:34 AM
Molly and Mickie’s Room at the Grand Plaza Hotel-Denver, Colorado


Oh, What a Beautiful Morning

It’s truly a beautiful morning when you can wake up in the middle of the summer, and you’re not stuffed in a blazing hot house, filled with dogs and cats who want to snuggle, and small children who want you to cook for them.

It’s an amazing morning when the only things you can hear are the cars swishing by outside, and the boys in the next room practicing their singing.

And by boys, I don’t mean the Jonas Brothers.

Tanner, Brendan, Garrett and AJ are in the suite next to us today. And they’re singing their (not so) little hearts out!

Gotta love summer time.

Posted on The Social Butterfly at 11:34 AM

Ping!

A noise came from my computer just as I was closing it up to put back on my bed and get ready for lunch. I sat back and pulled it open. It was an IM. From Ann.

AnnShoket: Hello darling! How’s the diary coming along?

“Who is it?” Molly asked as she stepped out of the bathroom, towel drying her hair.

“Ann. She asked how the diary was coming.”

“Have you done any of yours?” I glanced at the table on the other side of the room, where my purple journal was sitting.

“I’ve done a few, but not a lot.”

HeyMickie: Got a few entries in! How have you been?

AnnShoket: Awesome! Listen, I wanted to give you the det.s about the Seventeen blog you and Mickie are going to be working on.

She proceeded to explain that on top of our own blogs, the Seventeen video blog (the first video of which, the one with Nick, was already on both the Seventeen server and the Youtube page), we were doing a small on-tour blog, just a post or two every once in a while, to keep 17 readers intrigued while on tour, and get them ready for the full articles coming when we got home. We each had our own usernames and passwords that gave us access to a full section on the website that, we were surprised to see, was already decorated and set up with photos of each of us from the photoshoot, with our own profiles and galleries to set up. Each gallery contained pictures of each of us from the photoshoot, as well as a few I’m sure our parents gave her. She told us how to set up our profiles, and upload pictures, and then put up a blog. After letting us know when our first official Seventeen event would be (“Seventeen! Live Video Chat with the Jonas Brothers and Demi Lovato-Coming June 12th, Only on Seventeen.com!”), she let us go to set everything up. Molly pulled her computer out and went straight for the profile page, like me.

Name: Mikayla “Mickie” Prescot
Age: 15 (Birthday-July 2nd)
Siblings:Four. All sisters. Libby (8), Aria (21-getting married this summer!), Liv (24 and preggo with twins!), Ren (26-living in NYC with her husband and daughter, Olivia)
Best friends: Molly Hart, Rosie Davis, Demi Lovato, Brendan Barone, and a whole lot of other people.
Current relationship status: Single
Favorite foods: Anything Italian, Golden Oreos, Crepes, Diet Coke
Least Fave foods: Most Indian food (not a big curry person)
Favorite bands/singers: She&Him, Ke$ha, Disco Curtis, Taylor Swift, A Bird a Sparrow, The Downtown Fiction, Hit the Lights, The Script, Allstar Weekend, Hey Monday, Benton Paul
Favorite Books: The Georgia Nicolson Diaries (June 9th! Woot!), Secrets of my Hollywood Life series, My Sister’s Keeper, Pretty Little Liars (Watch the show. I hear it’s gonna be awesome.), The Clique books, the Uglies, Can You Keep a Secret, Queen of Babble, The Earth My Butt and other Big Round Things (Hilarious!)
Hobbies: Writing (obviously), reading, blogging, promoting bands (a lot of the ones in my music section are bands I promote.), going to concerts, anything to do with fashion.

That was it. Pretty much everything you needed to know about me, all wrapped up in one, long, HTML loop. I went over and read Molly’s.

Name: Molly Hart
Age: 18 (Birthday-August 14th)
Siblings: Two. One brother, Mikey, aged 15, and one sister, Maria, aged 12.
Best Friends:Mickie Prescot, Jessica Madison, Tanner Howe, Demi Lovato and a bunch of other people.
Current Relationship Status: Single
Favorite foods: Love Italian….and French. Diet Coke. Cookies.
Least Fave Foods: Anything with curry (blech!)
Favorite bands/singers:Disco Curtis, AllStar Weekend, Selena Gomez & The Scene, Miley Cyrus, She&Him, Ke$ha, The Script, Hey Monday
Favorite Books: Anything by James Patterson, Anything by Meg Cabot, Can You Keep a Secret, Confessions of a Shopaholic, the Georgia Nicolson Diaries
Hobbies: Writing, listening to and writing music, blogging, reading, hanging with friends

I laughed at the similarities between our two forms, and then helped her pick her main picture out of all the ones she’d chosen to upload into the gallery. As soon as she was done helping me do the same, someone knocked on our door. “Girls?” Mama J walked in, shutting the door to our art of the suite behind her. We’d come to realize, all too quickly after that first day in Oklahoma, that much like they do when presidents or government officials visit hotels (which my mom used to deal with all the time), they block off a floor, sometimes multiple, for celebrities staying at said hotel. Most (high end) hotels even have a special floor where all the rooms are connected, kind of like a house, that they can rent out for a night or more. Molly and I had an area with two full beds and a little bathroom most of the time, though occasionally we’d have to share a queen bed (which, neither of us really minded-two girls, best friends, I did it all the time with Rosie back home when we didn’t wanna sleep on the floor). “Hey, we’re heading to lunch in about an hour. Will you two be ready by then?” I nodded and closed my computer, setting it in the drawer next to my bed. “Okay,” she said, and then smiled as she walked back out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Frankie, I assumed, was taking a nap, which would account for her quietness. Molly was ready to go downstairs when I came out of the bathroom half an hour later, dressed in a simple pair of denim shorts and a purple tee shirt, with my hair up in a messy, curly bun.

“You ready to go?” she asked. I glanced around the room. There was something that needed to be done, but I had to ask her for a huge favor.

“Not…quite.” I walked over to her side of the room, and looked at the case quickly before looking back at her. “Do you mind if I borrow Shelby?” I asked, gesturing towards her guitar. Yes, she has a guitar. And yes, it’s named Shelby. Don’t ask me why. I’m scared to know. Last time I asked her something like that, she told me she named her toilet Lola after a girl she used to hate in primary school. Enough said right there.

“Why?”

“I…” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “I’ve had a few ideas recently…I just need to strum them out and write down the chords on the lyrics sheet.”

“Oh!” she said, excited. “Can I read them?!” I laughed and shook my head.

“Not yet. I’ll let you listen when they’re done.”

“Well, borrow away. I’m gonna go head downstairs. And Mickie?” she finished, giving me a look as she threw her bag over her shoulder. “I still don’t get why you haven’t told the guys you can sing. Tanner and them were fine with it when we told them.”

“Fine?” I said, leaning over, my eyes wide. “You call trying to make me sing The Fear in front of a crowd of people fine? Mol, if that’s how they reacted, I don’t wanna see what the other guys will do. Demi is fine with keeping my secret.”

“But you’re so good!” she protested, sitting on the bed and flailing her hands in the air. “You’d get a record deal on the spot!”

“Bull,” I retorted, crossing my arms and leaning against the table where my journal and purse sat. “And besides, I’m not sure I want one. I spent so much of my time when I was a kid doing this stuff. I don’t want to spend my teen years doing it too.”

“Then what are you doing now?” she asked, gesturing around the room. “You’re on tour with the Jonas Brothers, Mick. I don’t think you can get much more into ‘this stuff’ if you tried.”

“I’m doing what I love,” I said defiantly. “I’m writing. That’s what I want to do.”

“Really?” She got up and walked towards the door, turning around when she got to it, her hand ready to turn the knob. “Last time I checked, Mickie, you had a file full of songs ready to be recorded, that far outnumbered your stories. I don’t want to see your talent go to waste. Any of them.” With a final glance over her shoulder, she opened the door and walked out, closing it at the same quiet decibel that Mama Jonas had. I pushed my hair out my face and huffed. What did Molly know? Had she spent five years singing her little heart out, only to be turned down by agent after agent for being too “pudgy?” Had she tripped over her own two feet on local TV because she couldn’t get the dance steps to “Kids in America” right? I didn’t think so!

But maybe she was right. Maybe there was something to this whole being on tour thing. But I was comfortable with the way I was. The only reason people knew who I was now was because I was a good enough writer to go on tour with the Jonas Brothers. I was proud of that. It was enough for me.

I slid Shelby out of her case, and ran my fingers over the rough, metal strings, a small chord of notes playing. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled my computer out, re-opening the file of lyrics I had. Molly was right about one thing. I had a whole boatload of lyrics I’d written over the years. Some good. Some bad. Some horrible. But there were a few I was proud of, like the one I’d just finished.

A few years before, Aria had been in an abusive relationship. It’d taken me a while to figure out what was going on, but she’d come home so many times with bruises and claimed they were from her (classic Prescot) clumsy moments. After she’d finally broken up with the scumbag, she told me everything, and I’d even helped her write a letter to Mum, explaining everything, before she took two month trip to LA, which is where she met Terri, a Texas resident on vacation that same summer. I’d visited once or twice in the early days of their “friendship,” which, back then, being, well, me, and the weird person I am who can tell if people are right for each other or not, I could already tell that the two were made for each other.

About a month before tour started, I was milling over options for lyrics, and started penning a few verses about an abusive relationship, and came up with some good stuff. And as I sat on the bed, strumming out the chords I thought would work, I sang quietly.

“You sit there like you don’t
Believe a word
That you’re hearin’
But it’s the truth
That’s plain as can be
The thing you need to hear now
I’ve known for a while now
To think that you could change
Was so reckless and naive

It’s time to say goodbye
It’s time to say goodbye
Goodbye to all the pain,
The fears, the reason that I cry
And all those times we shared
When I thought you really cared
Those moments they’ll stay with me
In my heart until I die.
It’s time to say goodbye.

You say you’re really sorry
That it was a mistake
But you can never go back
On every single choice you make
And the words that you say to me
They sound so sincere
But I know I’ll never ever shed
Another single tear

It’s time to say goodbye
It’s time to say goodbye
Goodbye to all the pain,
The fears, the reason that I cry
And all those times we shared
When I thought you really cared
Those moments they’ll stay with me
In my heart until I die.
It’s time to say goodbye.

The cons outweigh the pros here
That’s as simple as can be
The only things that matters here
Is now I’m finally free

It’s time to say goodbye
It’s time to say goodbye
Goodbye to all the pain,
The fears, the reason that I cry
And all those times we shared
When I thought you really cared
Those moments they’ll stay with me
In my heart until I die.
It’s time to say goodbye.”

Tears stung at my eyes by the time I was done, and had typed in the final few chords to my computer. It was still really hard to imagine my big sister going through something like that; something so heart wrenching and agonizing. The thought alone made my stomach lurch. After closing out the document, I still had a good fifteen minutes to work on things, so I opened a few started songs, ones that were written but still needed some of the chords, and started playing again. By the time I was done, I had four songs finally finished. I tapped Shelby on the top, and put her back the case, setting her where she was before, and heading to lunch.

1:55 PM

After lunch, I sat on the bed, typing a journal entry into my computer. That would be when I heard someone come up to me, and saw the base of a guitar out of the corner of my eye. Without even looking up, I said “Mol, what are you doing?”

“It’s time for you to sing your songs for me!” she said cheerily, and closed my computer.

“Hey! I was working on something!”

“It’s called autocorrect. Duh.” She rolled her eyes, and I rolled mine right back when she handed me the guitar.

“How do you know I’m done?” There was a knock on the door, and it opened, revealing Tanner, Brendan, AJ and Garrett.

“You know, there’s this new thing called waiting,” I said sarcastically. “You should try it some time.”

“But we couldn’t wait to hear you sing!” AJ called, flailing himself out on my bed. He ran a hand through is wavy hair and grinned at me, while the others sat on the edges of our beds.

“Sing?” I asked, putting my computer back in the drawer and looking at everyone.

“We heard you playing bits of your new songs earlier,” Garrett said, crossing his arms. “And since you promised Molly a show, we want one too.” I stared at him. He’d heard me? I thought I was being quiet! I thought I was alone. Granted, their room was next door, but still! If they’d heard…who else had?

“I was that loud?” I asked, my eyes wide.

“Not really,” Brendan replied, laying back on Molly’s bed and putting his hands behind his head. “But we were right next door. I’m pretty sure we were the only ones that heard.” I blushed, and looked down at my hands. “For what it’s worth, what we heard sounded great.” My blush got worse. Thanks, Brendan. You know just how to make me feel GREAT. Molly held the guitar out to me again, and I sighed, taking it from her and setting it in my lap, and throwing my hair, which I’d been wearing curly, into a low bun.

“Which bit did you hear?”

“The last part of the first song you worked on,” Tanner said, flicking his fringe out of his eyes. “Brendan made us leave after that.”

“Said something about an invasion of privacy, huh?” Garrett laughed after he said that, and Brendan, without sitting up, chucked a pillow at him from across the room. Impressive. But wait, what? He made them leave? Because it was an invasion of my privacy? What? That made…no sense. At all. “Just start from the first song. Do whatever you’ve finished.”

“Uhh, mkay.” I took a minute to think, and then, without opening back up my computer, I started strumming out the beginning chords of Time to Say Goodbye. By the time I finished, Molly was looking at me with this glint in her eyes. Almost like she was proud of me.

“Was…was that about Aria?” she asked, and came over to set a hand on my shoulder. I nodded, and looked back down at my hand lying on the strings on the base of Shelby.

“What happened to Aria?” Tanner asked. He’d met Aria a few times…he even used to have a huge crush on her. The whole older woman thing.

“It was…a long time ago. Just, not a good relationship. It didn’t turn out well.” I fiddled with the E string, and then looked up.

“What’s next?”

June 7, 2010
7:22 PM
Sprint Center in Kansas City, Missouri-Backstage

“So, how did the pre-party go?” I asked Kat as we sat backstage, waiting for the show to start. She, Molly and I were seated on a trunk of clothes, sipping Diet Cokes (I know, I said it was work, but there are those rare, peaceful moments), and chatting as people rushed by, carrying mics, hair dryers, drinks, and God knows what else.

“Awesome,” she replied, taking a drink. “It’s so weird doing these mass-scale ones. I remember when Amy and I used to have five, maybe six people show up, and now it’s like into the hundreds.”

“That’s great! Who won that signed Road Dogs shirt?” I questioned. I’d seen her carrying the shirt, printed with Nick’s number, earlier, and had envied the person who would eventually get it. Amy had one, as did Molly, both won at Meet and Greets, but I hadn’t been to one of the concerts in years.

“Some little girl, real cute though. Hair in pigtails, wearing a brand new pair of Jonas sneakers. She was adorable.”

“Yo, Joe!” Garbo called. He was standing on the far side of the area, with his bass plugged into an amp, a pair of headphones over his head. “Come here for a sec, I think one of my strings is messed up.” Joe walked passed us, looking down at his phone and typing. He pressed a button hard, smiling, and I heard a ping go off on the other side of the room. I looked over, and saw that Demi was sitting in a chair, getting her hair and makeup done. She pulled her phone out, and the cheesiest smile ever came onto her lips.

“Oh my God,” Molly said next to me, realizing at the same time. “Is he texting Demi? She’s right there!”

And then it happened. Almost in slow motion, like in the movies. A guy carrying a small amp over his head walked by, and moving in an opposite direction came a man holding a tray of drinks. Brightly colored, fizzy drinks. And guy with the amp accidentally stumbled on a cord, and hit the tray of drinks, causing them to spill. And a cascade of purple, orange and brown hit Joe’s head like a waterfall. At first, everything was silent. The drinks dripped down his face, and on to his crisp, clean white shirt. Then, his tongue slipped out of his mouth, and caught a drop falling over his lips.

“Mmm. Orange soda.” Madness ensued. Wardrobe ladies were shooing us off the box we were on, and the woman doing Demi’s hair looked horrifically from Demi to Joe, trying to figure out whether or not she should go help. I walked towards them.

“Here,” I said, making a motion to grab the curling iron out of her hand. “Go help. I got this.” She gave me a skeptical look, but Demi nodded lightly, and looked up at me.

“Let her. She’s a fashion blogger. She knows what she’s doing.” Not entirely true. I wasn’t a fashion blogger. But I did blog about fashion occasionally. She gave me another look, but then hurried off, grabbing a towel off the arm rest and rushing Joe to the nearest bathroom.

“He is such a klutz,” Demi said as I unlatched the piece of hair that was in the curler. I nodded.

“Just like his girlfriend.” She scoffed and swiped at me. “Hey! She’s got some pretty clumsy friends too!” She laughed at that one, and I held the curler back, looking at her hair. “What are we going for here?”

“I have no idea,” she said, shrugging. “Just whatever goes with this.” She pointed down to her outfit, and I noted everything I could. She was dressed in light, ripped skinny jeans, a long, pink, flowy shirt, a black leather jacket and matching black leather boots.

“Uhhh,” I started, getting her to stand up, and setting the curling iron on the table. “Hold on a sec.” I took off her jacket and saw that the shirt actually had some really cute detail on the back and shoulders, so I walked over to the rack of clothes nearby marked “Demi” and started riffling through them. Then, I found it. I pulled it off the hanger and handed it to her, and she put it on, and looked in the mirror.

“I love it!” she said, tugging on the sides and turning around. “So much cuter than the leather,” she added a little quieter. The vest was short and cropped, so it showed off her waist, and had a hint of sparkle in a black that looked awesome with her hair color. “But the hair doesn’t look right.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Here. I have an idea.”

Fifteen minutes later, I was putting the finishing touches on Demi’s look. I basically started all over with the hair, and used a straightener I dug out from the drawers to create some beachy, rocker waves. I left her lips nude, and used a little powder here and there for her face, trying to go for a more natural look, because for the eyes I used a really pretty silver liner I actually had in my bag, which I’d purchased from Walgreens right before school ended for a buck fifty, with some black and grey eyeshadow and a bit of black liner on the bottom lid to make the eyes pop. The make up artist had the new Givenchy mascara I’d been dying to try out, and was actually on my birthday wishlist on WishPot, and I was pleased to see it worked as well as the reviews said it did. Demi looked amazing (as always).

“Oh my gosh, Mick,” she said, fluffing up the top tog get a good look. “I love it! Very Ke$ha.”

“That’s what I was going for,” I replied with a triumphant smile. She grinned and gave me a hug.

“You’ve got three minutes, Demi!” one of the stage hands called as we separated and she looked back in the mirror, pouting her lips.

“Someone looks good,” Joe said, coming up behind Demi and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, kissing her temple. He was dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a new white tee shirt, along with a simple leather jacket.

“Eyy,” she said, scooching away. “Normally, I’d love that, but Mickie just did my makeup.”

“Mickie did this?” He held her our, as if he were appraising her, and nodded his head, grinning. “It looks great, Mick. She looks beautiful.”

“Oh, gee, thanks,” Demi responded, with a flick of her arm hitting him on the shoulder.

“What are we slapping Joe for?” Nick’s voice asked. I turned around to see him sipping a water bottle, walking towards us. I cleared my throat, and turned around to fix up the counter like I’d found it. One of the many things I’d been taught as a kid.

“Insulting Demi,” I said quietly, wrapping the straightener chord around the base and setting it back on the counter.

“Mickie did Demi’s makeup,” Joe said, gesturing to his girlfriend next to him and grinning.

“And hair,” she corrected.

“You did all this?” Nick walked up and did the same thing his brother did, looking her over. “Mickie…you’re really good.” Demi scoffed again. “I didn’t mean it as an insult!” he cried, shying away from her towards me. “I just meant, she did a really good job with everything. It almost looks better than-”

“Demi!” Dee Dee came rushing towards us, grabbing Demi by the arm. “You’re on in, like, a minute!” Demi rushed off, and I could hear the last notes of Breaking Hearts playing, and then Tanner introducing Demi.

“Dems looked good,” Molly said, walking up to us. I smiled at her.

“Thanks.”

“Oh, so you thank her,” Joe snorted. I rolled my eyes.

“Molly, I have a question for you,” Nick said out of the blue. She glanced at me, an eyebrow raising, and nodded at him. “I keep forgetting to ask you, but I wanted to know, the other day, when we were in Missouri, were you singing in your room?” He leaned against the rolling chair. I turned back to the counter, my eyes widening. Holy crap. Triple Merde (Non French translation; Shit Shit Shit) and bullocks.

“Uhm, no, why?”

“Cause I could have-” Crash. I turned around to see Nick sprawled on the color next to the chair, which was still spinning. I couldn’t help it; I laughed.

“Oh gosh,” I said, stepping over and holding out my hand to him. He took it, and hoisted himself up.

“Uhm thanks. But, yeah, like I was saying,” he continued as if nothing happened. “I was heading to lunch and heard someone singing. It sounded pretty good too. An original song, I think.” I blushed. But not because of what he said. Because, well…

“Uh,” I used my free hand, and rubbed the back of my neck. “Nick.”

“Huh?” He looked at me, smiling. I looked down.

“I kinda, I mean, I sorta…” I pathetically lifted my hand, which, to my utter shock (and somewhat contentment), was still being held by Nick. His eyes widened and he let go immediately, blushing.

“Oops,” he laughed. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Because boy, it was.

Once Demi had started her set, Joe, Nick and Kevin went with their dad and the backup band to go start rehearsing, and the rest of us headed back to the large collective room in the back, with couches and a fridge and TV’s that showed what was going on outside. Like usual, Molly and I got our computers out of our (large) bags and started working on things; stories, journals, books. Danielle and Mama Jonas and Frankie sat watching the TV with Kat.

“Is it just me or does Demi’s makeup look…different?” Mama J asked behind us. My eyes widened. Did it look that bad? Had Joe and Nick just been nice in saying that Demi looked good? Oh crap.

“It looks great,” Danielle said. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to do those waves forever.” I blushed. Okay, maybe it didn’t look that bad.

“Why don’t you just ask Mickie how to?” Kat said, sitting up. “She’s the one who did it.” I threw her a horrified glance. Why, Kat? Why?

“Mickie, you did Demi’s hair?”

“And makeup,” I said shyly, closing my computer.

“Why didn’t you tell us you could do this?” Mama Jonas asked. “It looks wonderful! We could have put you to work days ago!” She laughed lightly, joking, and looked back at the TV. “Demi really does look lovely. That vest looks great on her.” My blush got even worse, and I sunk down into the couch. My fashion stuff wasn’t really a secret. I’d always been good at doing people’s hair and makeup. I used to help people get ready for banquets, and even got Rosie’s brother’s date ready for prom last year. But I didn’t want to be known for being good at makeup and hair. Those girls were always frowned upon back in England. They were the ones who were told they were “throwing their lives away,” especially by the types like my maternal grandparents. It was just another reason why I shoved myself towards writing, and away from music and fashion. It made me feel more…accepted. I don’t know by whom. My friends all loved that I could do hair and makeup. My mother loved that I could sing. But somehow…there was this lingering feeling that I was always out of touch. And the worst part was…even though I felt so happy when Nick and Danielle had complimented Demi’s look…I regretted them finding out. And I knew that if my secret got out, I’d have a whole whirlwind of trouble coming my way from not only the likes of Marisa, whom I hadn’t even thought about since the day after the concert, when she’d posted a buddy buddy comment on my Facebook Wall, but from the two people who’d raised my mom. The people who I knew would never accept me for who I was, or who I really wanted to be.

June 11, 2010
1:35 PM
Molly and Mickie’s Room at City Center Plaza-Chicago, Illinois

And can you imagine? Being harangued for autographs and pictures every time you walk outside. Not being able to go any-

“Mickie!” I looked up, and Molly was still typing on her computer, like me. “Mickie!” the voice called again. It definitely was a girl...Molly looked up from her computer, right at me, and her eyebrows arched over the black glasses, much like my own, perched on her nose. The door burst open, and Demi flew through, her iPhone in a death grip in her hand. “Mickie, oh my God, you have to see this!” Her hair was all in her face, and her tank top strap was hanging half way down her shoulder, past her vest.

“What is it?” I asked. She held the phone out to me, and the screen was black. I turned it around, and she huffed, rolled her eyes, and then unlocked it, all of which I could have done, giving it back. The first thing I noticed was the picture. There was a large one, pretty much the size of the screen, on the page. “It’s…you?” I looked up at Demi, and she nodded eagerly.

“Scroll down!” I raised an eyebrow, and Molly, confused, came over and sat behind me on the bed, looking over my shoulder. I moved my finger on the screen, scrolling down. It was a pink webpage, and it looked like…no.

12:55 PM

Ms. Demi L was looking lovely this last Monday during her set at the Jonas Brothers World Tour 2010 in Colorado. Seen here in an H&M blouse and BCBG vest, rumor has it that this look (makeup and hair included) was created by a surprising artist:

According to our source, Demi looked to none other than tour mate Mickie Prescot to do her hair and makeup when a backstage mishap left other crew members preoccupied (what? Did one of the boys drop their purity rings?).

If you’ll remember, Mickie and best friend (and fellow blogger, both of who’s sites are listed here) Molly Hart were sent on tour with the trio as part of a special piece for Seventeen Mag. What idiot gave her the curling iron, we’ll never know. But apparently we’ve uncovered a new talent in our so-called (well, called by you readers, who have been emailing me to post about her for the last week like she was the next big thing-as if!) writing goddess.

What do you think of Demi’s look? Too Ke$ha? Or just right?

It took me a while to regain my ability to speak after reading the article. Me. Mickie Prescot. Little nobody from London. Had been talked about on PEREZ BLOODY HILTON. Seriously. Perez Hilton. Holy. Shit.

“He mentioned me!” Molly practically squealed in my ear. “We’re on Perez! Oh my GOD!” She and Demi both simultaneously squealed, and my eyes widened as I held my palms over my ears.

“Bloody hell, you two!” They stopped, and I uncovered my ears, looking at Demi. “Who’s the ‘source’?” I asked, kind of testily.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking at me like I was a crazy person. “Why aren’t you happy? You got your first post on Perez Hilton! He called you a Goddess!”

“I know,” I said, looking back over the words on the phone. “I am excited.” I sighed. “It’s just…it’s why I was embarrassed for anyone to know in the first place. The point of this whole thing,” I started, feeling like I was about to go on a long rant. I paused, trying to collect my thoughts before talking again. “The reason we’re on this tour in the first place isn’t so I can write songs or do makeup.” I glanced at Molly.

“You’ve been writing songs?” Demi asked.

“That’s not the point.” I stood up, and took a few steps around Demi and Molly, who were both standing by then. “The point is-we’re here for a reason. We’re on your because we’re supposed to be writing. Not songs. Not how to hair manuals. We’re supposed to be writing about you guys.” I gestured to Demi. “And that’s what I need to be focusing on.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t help with other stuff,” Demi pointed out, crossing her arms. “You’re really good, Mickie. And from the comments I read, I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

“You should make videos!” Molly suggested enthusiastically, trying to be, what I guessed was, helpful. “Like, how to’s.” I threw her a glare, and she shut up.

“Think about it, Mick.” I sighed. I was being ambushed. By two of my best girlfriends. And I needed a way out.

“I will,” I said, backing up. And then I glanced at the bathroom, which was still half open. “But…but I need to go take a shower!” I half-squealed. And then I turned around, and ran straight for the open door, closing it once I was safely inside, and collapsing against the door. I turned the water on, and sat there for a few minutes.

“Mickie,” Molly’s voice called through the door. “Demi and I are heading downstairs for a bit. I think we’re just gonna go to the restaurant and meet the guys. I need something to drink. We’ll be back soon.” The door out of the room clicked open, and then a few seconds later closed. And I realized I actually did need to take a shower. My hair, even though I’d only washed it the night before, was slightly greasy after the relatively busy morning we’d had on the bus, with me kicking Garbo’s butt in DDR and all…

Once I was safely in the shower, scrubbing shampoo into my hair, I started humming to myself. At first, it was light. Just a few bars from Hound Dog, which we’d sung at sound check two days before in Idaho. Then, I noticed how scratchy my voice was. From lack of use, I’d though. So I started singing lightly. A few lines from a song I’d written the year before.

Please refrain-
Cause I can't take anymore
Of your constructive criticism anymore
What the hell have you been building anyways?
Between you and me?
Just a barricade,
I gotta say

Well, I thought. I’ve already started. Might as well finish. Besides, no one was there. Nick was out with his family at another radio interview, which, after the first few, we’d decided we didn’t really need to go to all the time, so there was no chance of him hearing me again. The girls were out. The boys of DC were downstairs eating a late lunch after sleeping in.

I can do so much better than this
I know I know
I took the easy road again
and as for sellin myself short
I have become notorious
oh I know how it goes
this is the part where I realize that I’m alone

you always told me to be mature
well I just don’t know myself anymore
what’s the point of bein grown up anyways?
So I can be like you?
And give it all away?
I got to say

I can do so much better than this
I know I know
I took the easy road again
and as for sellin myself short
I have become notorious
oh I know how it goes
this is the part where I realize that I’m alone

and everybody wants to fall in love
in cinematic fashion
I don’t, I don’t
and everybody wants to fall in love
in cinematic fashion
I don’t, I don’t

By the time I was done, I was washing conditioner out of my hair. Once out of the shower, dried off with one of the big, fluffy towels from the hotel, I threw back on my Soffe shorts and tee I’d been wearing and stepped outside, grabbing my phone from the table next to the door. I heard movement behind me, and froze. Holy crap. There was someone in my room. Who the hell was in my room?! Maybe it was a serial killer! Breaking into Hotel Rooms to steal valuables and then killing the tenants. I was too young to die!

I turned slowly on my heal, holding up my phone, ready to bash in the head of anyone in the room.

And that’s when I saw him. The curly haired teenager sitting on my bed, a sad, but somewhat triumphant smile on his lips. And Nick spoke:

“So, you don’t want to fall in love?”