The guitarist took extra time to talk with me during rehearsal and suggested changing a few notes and adding some chords in my song. He was right. The song was better that way.
With his permission, I jotted down the changes so I could add them to my music back home. “I guess I still have a lot to learn about song writing.”
“Nah,” he said. “Revisions are just part of the game. You’ve got talent. Keep using it.”
He didn’t have to compliment me. I was only a high school kid here as a novelty. But it was nice that he did. It proved that not everyone in the business was like Jason.
That night when the cameras turned on and the band started playing my song, I was still nervous— petrified really—but I knew I could do it.
The intro music sounded smooth, professional. I took a deep breath, opened my mouth, and the notes flowed out clear and flawlessly. This time while I sang, I didn’t picture Jason. I saw Donovan’s cool blue eyes, his mussed hair, and his smile that tilted up at one side.
My voice was strong and beautiful, even if I did sound a little too happy about unrequited love. I couldn’t get that wistful tone of longing that had been there when I practiced in front of Jason’s poster. I was too un-unrequited.
When I reached the part of the song I’d choked on during the America’s Top Talent, the audience leaned forward in their seats, one collectively-held breath. My voice slid upward effortlessly, and I lengthened the note just to show I’d conquered it. The audience burst into applause, drowning out my next few words.
With the band at my back, and the audience breathing in the music, singing felt magical. In a good way. I was wrong about not wanting the spotlight. I could live here.
When I sang the last note, the audience cheered their approval. I didn’t care that they’d probably all seen my video and laughed at it. They were applauding now. They were clapping for everyone who’d made a fool of themselves and didn’t let it stop them from trying again.
I took a bow and strode over—no heels to worry about today—to in the guest chair. My nerves came back in force then, throbbing through me. I’d known all along I could do the song. Talking in front of the camera was another matter. Donovan had spent an hour with me on the phone, practicing possible things to say.
I shook Mr. Fallon’s hand. Smiled big. “Before you interview me, I want to make sure—you can edit out anything embarrassing I might do, right?”
He waved away my comment. “Listen, you were so good, I think I’m going to throw up. It just seems like the thing to do.”
The audience laughed, and my nerves melted away.
I sat in the chair, ignored the cameras aimed in my direction, and answered his questions. It went by in a blur. There was more laughing, more clapping. He shook my hand again and said, “You’re a talented young lady. I can tell you have a great career ahead of you.”
After the show broke for commercial, Mr. Fallon gave me the thumbs up. “You just killed it in front of eight million viewers. Not bad for someone who hasn’t graduated from high school.”
He was right. This wasn’t bad at all.
The next surprise happened that night at the hotel room. My parents and I had a luxury suite, compliments of the show. I’d just taken a book out to the balcony when Jason Prescott called my phone.
“You’re alive!” he said as soon as I answered.
“Yep. Last time I checked, that was my status.”
I couldn’t tell if he was happy or just surprised. “I thought you were stuck back in the Renaissance,” he said. “I thought the fairies killed you. I’ve spent the last two days writing a song mourning your loss.”
“Sorry. Still alive.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d escaped?”
“Well, I don’t have your phone number. How did you get mine?”
“I got it off the forms you filled out for America’s Top Talent.”
Oh, that’s right. I had given them my personal information.
“How did you get away?” Jason asked.
“Donovan and Chrissy came back and rescued me.”
“That’s good.” A pause. “She was hot, your fairy godmother.”
Apparently Jason was progressing just fine in falling out of love with me. “I mean,” he went on, “I never pictured fairies that way, you know?”
“I never pictured them like Chrissy, either.” I’d imagined them to be nicer. Like the harmless little old ladies in Disney movies. Chrissy, I was sure, would never use the words “Bibbidy-bobbidy-boo.”
“I felt so bad about leaving you there,” Jason said, “especially when those videos came out mocking your audition. I told the show they shouldn’t air your segment, but they said the rest of the show wouldn’t make sense if they didn’t.”
“Yeah, well . . . that’s the important thing.”
He completely missed my sarcasm. “It’s their most watched episode so far. Although that might be because I was a guest judge.”
“Great.” I slouched in my chair. “Glad to hear it.”
“Anyway, I’ve been bummed because I thought you died, and then—wham—the TV starts running ads about your appearance on The Tonight Show. Totally cool. How did it go?”
“Really well. You can see it tonight.”
There was a moment of silence. I decided that meant it was time to end the call. “Well, sorry you thought I died and everything. I’m fine. Thanks for checking.”
“When is your prom?”
“What?” The change in subject was so abrupt, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.
“I promised Mr. Invisible I’d take you to prom.”
I’d forgotten about that. “No need. Donovan is taking me.”
Jason let out an offended huff. “You’d rather go with the invisible guy than me?”
“He’s my boyfriend now, and he’s not invisible anymore.” Neither of us was. “But if you want to fulfill your promise, you could sing at my prom.”
“You want me to perform while you dance with another guy?”
“It would be good publicity for you,” I pointed out. “You came off kinda mean in those viral videos. You know, famous rock star crushes poor hopeful’s dream so brutally that she’s ill on stage.”
“It wasn’t like that,” he said.
“Actually it was exactly like that.”
“I gave you constructive criticism.”
“You told me I didn’t practice enough.”
“That’s constructive.”
I tapped my fingers against the chair rest. “You promised Donovan you’d do anything I asked, and I’m asking you to sing at my prom.”
Jason let out a martyred groan. “Okay. Just this once.”
“Well, that’s normally how many times people do prom when they’re seniors. However, I’m going to Donovan’s prom too. I’m sure the people at his school would also love to hear you.”
“One prom,” Jason said.
“My fairy godmother could always change you back into a frog, you know.”
“Fine,” he muttered. “Both proms.”
* * *
My prom was first. Donovan got permission to come and rented a limo. Normally I would have told him not to spend the money, but it turns out pocketfuls of silver and gold are worth a lot. Donovan not only had enough money to go to college, if he wanted, he could buy his own house near campus.
His problem was he could only sell off a gold leaf at a time or people would wonder if his newfound wealth had come about by illegal means. It’s hard to explain where you suddenly got hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of precious metals from.
I had my own souvenirs tucked away in my closet: gold and silver leaves Donovan had given me, the pearl bracelet, and a fallen wish that would only ever be a diamond. Someday I might sell them—maybe when I was a poor struggling musician—until then, I would keep them.
When I stepped out of the limo in front of the hotel where prom was held, the paparazzi were waiting. Camera flashes went off around me, illuminating the area with splashes of light. Reporters jostled each other to get closer, holding mikes in my direction. “What do you think about Jason performing at your prom?” one asked.