Oh, if Aubrie had been here, she would have been all over the irony.
"Here," Joe took her by the elbow, "I'll show you to the bathroom." They walked, and I followed after them. Mike followed after me. I'm not sure why Maybe to gloat.
Of course the bathroom door was locked. After Joe knocked, we heard Polly's voice, worried, say, "I'll be out in a minute."
"Can you hurry?" Joe asked. "Polly has a bloody nose."
Which must have been a strange thing for Polly to hear. She cracked open the door, and I could see her—a wad of Kleenex still held to her nose—peering out at us. "How did you . . . " Her voice trailed off as she saw Molly.
Joe did a double take when he saw Polly holding tissue to her face. "What happened to you?"
I let out a gasp which even in my own ears sounded forced. "It's one of those mystic twin phenomena! Polly got hurt and so Molly's nose started bleeding. Amazing!"
And everyone agreed that it was amazing, especially Polly who said the word while glaring at her sister.
We left the party after that. I'm glad to report that we left with our heads held high, even if it was, in part, because two of us didn't want to bleed on the carpet.
In the car on the way home, Polly sat beside me while Molly lay down on the backseat. Polly drummed her fingers against the armrest and slowly said, "I can't believe that while you were dressed as me, you ran into a sliding glass door."
"I couldn't see," Molly said.
"Well even a blind person could have noticed that there weren't gusts of cold air wafting in front of them. That should have signaled to you that the door was closed."
Molly let out an exasperated grunt. "Sorry, I was too busy thinking of what to say to the guy you liked to monitor the weather."
"I'll never live this down," Polly moaned. "At school I'll be known as A+ Polly again."
"Well, then just be glad our blood type isn't B negative," Molly flung back, "since that fits you better."
In all the time I'd known the twins, this night was the first time I'd heard them argue. It was my fault, since none of it would have happened if I hadn't brought them to this stupid party. I shouldn't have, just like I shouldn't have made them hope that things could be different for them in high school.
"I can't even make it through a party," Polly said, sniffling. "How am I going to make it through auditions tomorrow?"
No one said anything for a moment and maybe we were all thinking that the audition was doomed. Finally I said, "What those people at that party think about you doesn't matter, so don't let them upset you." I knew I wasn't just saying it to her. I was saying it to myself because there was a very real chance that Rick would win the High School Idol spot, become a rock star, and torment me with anti-Chelsea smash hits for the rest of my life. I couldn't let it matter anymore.
I checked Adrian's room when I got home. She was in bed, lights off, sleeping. The sight relieved me, not just because she was home but because while she lay there serenely, makeup off, she seemed like the sister I used to get along with. It reminded me that the old Adrian was still there, somewhere. I turned from the room, touched the doorknob and then tapped the edge of the door three times.
I lay in bed for a long time thinking about auditions. I made a mental checklist of everything I needed to take tomorrow, even though I'd left most of it sitting in a pile by my bedroom door. I'd taken my mother's alarm clock and put it next to mine just to ensure I wouldn't sleep in.
I didn't need to worry. I swear I woke up every hour to check on the time. When morning came, I pulled myself out of bed feeling more exhausted then when I'd laid down.
Still I rushed around getting ready, doing my scales as I did. I threw on a pair of faded jeans and a Cougars sweatshirt. I was not about to walk into the auditorium wearing my sparkly outfit. Professionals, I was sure, changed when they got there.
Mom called at 8:15 in the morning to wish me luck. I walked into the garage at 8:30 to put my stuff in the trunk and found out that Adrian had taken the car. I especially appreciated this since Adrian wasn't supposed to drive anywhere and she knew I needed the car to get to Beasley coliseum on campus for the auditions. I called her cell phone. She didn't answer. Then I called Molly in a panic, but luckily they hadn't left yet and could swing by and pick me up. By 8:55 we walked up to the registration desk. We were supposed to be there by 8:45 even though auditions didn't start until nine.
The lady at the desk didn't seem to notice or care that we were late. She didn't even ask to see proof that Molly and Polly were students in good standing, something we were prepared to do with a phone call to the school's guidance counselor. She just handed me a packet of information and a large white tag that read #63, then had me check off my group's name on her list.
About a hundred names filled the roster. I didn't recognize a lot of them. They must be kids from Moscow and other neighboring towns. After we'd finished signing stuff, she told us to wait outside in the hallway for our number to be called.
"But we're sixty-third in line?" I asked. "So how long will it be until they call us?"
She gave me a cold stare, like I should already know, or at least like it was impertinent to ask. "The average audition is three minutes, but sometimes it goes much faster and if you miss your call, that's it. We won't audition you later. That's why we ask that all of the contestants stay in the hallway and not leave the premises."
"Thanks." I turned away, mentally doing the math.
Molly had it figured out before I did. "About three hours," she said. "It's a good thing I brought a book."
Three hours? Why had they told us to be here so early, and why hadn't I thought to bring something, anything to do?
I recognized several kids from Pullman milling around in the hallway—some in regular clothes, some decked out like rock stars, but I didn't see Rick. As a professional, apparently he already knew that you didn't have to be here on time.
It would have served him right if he had been the first up, but no, while a thin man with a goatee welcomed us to auditions and gave us directions, I looked around and found the first ten contestants. They'd already pinned their numbers to their shirts. After goatee guy had finished emphasizing that we needed to get on and off stage as quickly as possible, he took the first ten contestants backstage to wait in the wings.
Molly, Polly, and I found a corner and went over our routine a few times. Then there was nothing else to do but wait and listen to the strains of music floating into the hallway.
I hadn't realized when the registration lady told me that the auditions averaged three minutes, what she meant was that if the judges didn't like you, they only gave you about thirty seconds to sing. If they liked you, they let you go on for a minute or two. The extra minute was spent ushering people on and off the stage. I learned this from the contestants who straggled back into the hallway, and told us in varying degrees of worry, how far they'd gotten into their song.
"I've been practicing my routine for a month. My whole family came out to see me, and I didn't even make it to the chorus," one girl said. "It was totally unfair."
"See," I whispered to Polly like this was a good thing, "It will be over so fast, your nose won't have time to bleed."