“Is there a problem?” I try to say sweetly.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s just that I didn’t think you were going to sing on it. You haven’t …”

I know we didn’t talk about it, but I just assumed. Plus …

“Well, if I don’t sing on it, who will?” Does she not realize I’ve been doing her a favor all these years? Giving my voice to her songs.

“I am.” She says it so softly.

Obviously this is some sick joke she’s playing.

I give a light laugh. “Oh, Emme, you almost had me. You know that I’d be more than happy to help you out. Plus, when I send out my demos, it will put your songs out there as well. It’s what friends do.”

I can’t believe Emme would forget that she’s always been a huge part of my Plan. Yes, my demo will get me recognition with managers and labels, but this is how she’ll get her break as a songwriter and producer as well. It’s how the business works. I’ve done my research, so a little appreciation would be nice.

Emme shakes her head. “I know, but it’s just … we’re recording in Ethan’s studio and it’s sort of a condition of his….”

“Oh. I get it. His condition is to ruin my life. Is that it? First, he refuses to let me see the song for the audition tomorrow and now he wants to prevent me from getting a record contract?”

Emme looks upset, like she’s about to cry. I don’t see what she has to cry about. It isn’t her life that’s being sabotaged, it’s mine.

“Sophie, he thinks it would be good for the college recruiters to hear me sing it, that’s all. We can record your vocals as well and do a demo for you.”

Well, that’s better. But there’s still something she’s not giving me.

“I’m sorry, Em. I know you’d never betray me. I’m just so worked up about tomorrow’s audition. If I just had some idea of the other song, just a little, teeny, tiny clue, I’d feel so much better.”

Oh, what a surprise, she’s biting her lip. She walks over to the full-size keyboard in her room.

“Okay. I don’t know it that well since I’m not playing on it. I’m just going to sit here and play what I remember. This is between you and me.”

I get up to give her a hug. “Oh, Emme! You have no idea how much I appreciate this. You’re the best!”

I sit back down on her bed and close my eyes and she starts playing a melody. I begin to hum along to it and play it in my head for the rest of the night.

I totally nail the audition. I know my “Send in the Clowns” is killer, but when Dr. Ryan hands me the sheet music for the sight-reading portion, I bite my lip (in honor of Emme!) and pretend to study it. I sing the first half of the song exactly as written, but then, for the last verse, I close my eyes and put my Sophie touch on it.

When I open my eyes, Dr. Ryan clearly looks impressed. Ethan looks pissed. Like I care.

“How’d it go?” Carter greets me at my locker.

“Incredible!”

He gives me a hug. “That’s great!”

“Listen, I’ve got my bag to get ready for tonight, so I figured we can go to your place so I can change.”

Carter and I are going to some art opening tonight. Totally not my thing, but it’s the first social thing he’s been up for in a while. I got this black cocktail dress and funky red shoes to go with the SoHo crowd. At least, I hope it’s in SoHo, or at the Met or MoMA. Somewhere with fabulously trendy people and an awesome swag bag.

“I thought we’d just have dinner down the street, since the exhibit is here.”

“What?”

Carter shakes his head. “I told you it was Trevor’s exhibit of his impressionist era–influenced paintings.”

I’m sure he did, but I have no idea what any of that really means. “I didn’t realize it was a CPA thing, plus I don’t know who Trevor is.”

“Trevor Parsons. He’s only the best art student in school.”

He says this like being the best art student is a big thing in this school. The stage is what matters.

“I thought we were going to some fabulous opening. We haven’t done that in forever. Can’t you call Sheila Marie and see if there’s anything going on tonight that’s fun?”

“But I want to go to this. And we can’t call Sheila Marie. She’s no longer my publicist. I don’t really want to deal with the press anymore.”

Here I had the most amazing audition, and Carter has to ruin it by taking me to some lame school event and firing his publicist.

It used to be fun to be with Carter, doing things like going to openings and getting my picture taken. But lately he’s been so weird. He doesn’t like to go out, he’s been talking about Emme just a little too much (it’s always about her, isn’t it?), and he’s even cutting down on his hours on the soap opera. If I wanted to date a normal high school boy, I’d go out with some guy back in Brooklyn who’d be dying to be seen with me on his arm.

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew.” Carter puts his muscular arm around me.

I lean into him. Carter’s a good guy and sometimes I can’t believe he’s my boyfriend. I dream big, but he’s so much more than I thought I would get. It’s not just his looks or his fame (although those help). I’m just thankful he isn’t that emotional a person; I’ve got too many of those people in my life as is. Plus, we look really good together. I figure once I get my record contract, he’ll come to some of my gigs, get me some press attention (mental note: talk to his mom about hiring a new publicist ASAP), then we’ll break up right before my album release, which the tabloids would love: “Single Sophie Stays Strong.”