Take a Bow by Elizabeth Eulberg Page A

the biggest of them all.
    Michael Jackson.
    Ben hits his hand against the table. “I’ve got it. ‘Beat It.’ It’s got the sick guitar lick and solo. Ethan, I know you can take it to the next level. Plus, Jack can hash out an intense beat on the drum, and Emme and I will keep up just fine.”
    It’s unanimous. I pull out The Calendar and start to figure out practice times.
    “Man, I’m excited about this.” Jack is already tapping out a beat with his fingers. “I want to start working on it ASAP. What’s everybody’s week like? If we get even a basic idea down, maybe we can do a rough version at our gig on Friday night?”
    “I’m free,” Ben offers.
    “Me, too,” Ethan says with his eyes closed. I know he’s figuring out his part in his head.
    “Yeah. Me, too, except for Wednesday.”
    All three of them look at me. “What’s Wednesday?” Jack’s got one eyebrow raised.
    “I have plans.”
    Jack scoffs. “Plans? With who?”
    “Am I not allowed to have plans that don’t involve you guys?”
    “No,” they say in unison.
    “Whatever.”
    Jack, never one to let things go, prods on. “Sophie? Carter?”
    “No, I … Okay, I’ll tell you, but please don’t make a big deal about it.”
    Jack gasps. “Emme Connelly, do you have a date?”
    “Oh, just forget it.”
    “We certainly will not forget it.”
    “Fine, I’m going to dinner with Tyler. Happy?”
    Jack shakes his head. “Nicely done, Red.”
    I pull out The Calendar to write up our practice schedule until the concert in three weeks. Ben spends the rest of the class grilling me on my date, with Jack making disparaging comments. And Ethan keeps his eyes closed for the rest of the time.
    At least one of them respects what little privacy I have.
     
    Over the past three years, I’ve had to audition seven times to be a student at CPA, I’ve performed countless times as part of an assignment or with the band, and now I’m singing on an album that will serve as my senior thesis … not to mention part of my application to the top music school in the country.
    However, I don’t think anything has made me as nervous as walking into the bistro where I’m meeting Tyler.
    He stands up from the table where he’s waiting for me. His wavy brown hair is just slightly shorter than Ethan’s and he’s sporting just the right amount of stubble. He’s got his normal outfit of dark jeans with a button-down shirt — this time it’s white with thin black stripes.
    He greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a hug.
    “You look beautiful,” he says.
    I smile at him as I put my shaking hands in my lap. Sophie was busy, so Ben came over and helped me pick out my outfit: black leggings with a long, gray sweater, and black riding boots. He said I looked classic, yet contemporary.
    We make small talk about class and music assignments. Tyler is applying to most of the same schools as Ethan and I.
    “I submitted my application to Juilliard yesterday,” he says as our pasta entrées arrive. “I thought I was going to throw up.”
    “Me, too,” I confide. “I stood there in front of the mailbox for what seemed like an eternity. Ethan had to pry the envelope out of my hand.”
    “Oh.” Tyler picks at his fettuccini. “I guess I should have assumed that he’s applying as well. Not like he needs Juilliard. You know, I thought you guys were a couple for the longest time. He’s always around you.”
    This isn’t the first time that somebody thought this about us. But he’s pretty shy when he’s not onstage, so he only really talks to me and the other members of the band. Nobody ever seems to think he’s with Ben, though. Which always irritates Ben. I smile as I think of Ben saying “What? Like I couldn’t get you if I really tried?”
    “What’s so funny?” Tyler asks.
    “Oh, just thinking of something. Anyway, Ethan’s one of my closest friends. All the guys in the band are.”
    Tyler nods knowingly. “I wish I could say the same for the