SEASON ONE, EPISODE TEN

INVITATIONALS

SASHA

          SASHA WAS NOT PLEASED WITH THE RECENT EVENTS.

          A.J. sat across from her, curled in an armchair and looking almost as miserable as she would if someone had either a) kicked a puppy in front of her or b) forbade any Broadway revivals from happening. Those were the only roles she was seemingly interested in—right now, she wouldn't shut up about a hypothetical upcoming Wicked revival and how Elphaba was her ultimate dream role, so she just had to audition.

          Either way, Sasha thought she was overreacting. Even if she wasn't particularly excited about being forced to work with her, since they'd both been subjected to the torture of singing a duet together for Invitationals, she still thought she was being overly dramatic. It went way, way beyond a Taylor Swift sing-off in the middle of the cafeteria on the first day of the semester—there was a lot more at stake, and they needed to be at the top of their game if they wanted The Twilight Tone to succeed.

          Sasha had to admit it left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. On one hand—and regardless of how much she hated to admit it—A.J. was one of the most talented performers in the group, so they didn't have to work that hard to wow the judges. On the other, she had also purposefully thrown the competition just so she wouldn't land the solo, which she was so confident would happen, and to give the freshmen a chance.

          In Sasha's opinion, there was a time and place for everything, and show choir competitions weren't the right place to be noble. She wanted to win just as anyone else and, even though she believed Billie really was insanely talented, she wasn't certain if she wanted to deposit so much trust in a freshman—in a freshman who had tanked their first NYSPA audition, even.

          Therefore, she tried her hardest to trust A.J., which was a lot easier said than done, to be perfectly honest.

          Trusting A.J.'s talent was easy. Objectively, she was good, one of the best, and, as long as she put in proper effort into the duet, it would be a breeze. The problem was trusting her, as Sasha couldn't shake off how she had willingly dumbed herself musically, wasting her voice in bubblegum pop songs instead of belting out the notes she loved, just to prove a point. Besides, the A.J. she knew would rather die than lose a competition or to miss out on a chance to show off.

          Not to mention Sasha was pretty certain the feeling was mutual. The pool party at her house hadn't been that long ago, and she knew A.J. wouldn't forget being slapped in the face as hard as she was anytime soon. She'd always been amazing at holding grudges, and Sasha definitely wasn't willing to keep pushing her buttons.

          After all, both of them desperately wanted to win. Trying to one-up each other during the duet instead of cooperating would reflect itself on their performance, and they could kiss the rest of the competition goodbye.

          Sasha cleared her throat, in an attempt of breaking the awkward silence looming in the auditorium. They were the only two people there, as everyone else had much better things to do.

          "So," she began, and A.J. barely raised her stare from her Starbucks cup to look at her. She was wrapped in a wool blanket, like a cocoon, and, even though Sasha thought the air in the auditorium was relatively warm when compared to the blizzard outside, A.J.'s teeth chattered. "Do you have any ideas?"

          "Oh, so now you value my opinion?" A.J. retorted, but even that comment lacked the energy her witty comebacks usually had. "Can I suggest something or are you going to slap me in the face again?"

          Sasha huffed. "If you keep being an unhelpful, self-centered brat, I might just slap you again."

          A.J. rolled her eyes, but leaned to the side to pull a small lavender notebook from her backpack and handed it to her. Her nail beds were covered in a blue hue. "I know there's no theme for Invitationals, but I think it would be a good idea if all our performances were the slightest bit coherent. We're doing Somebody To Love as a group number, which is cool, but Billie is apparently determined to keep her song choice a secret; if she doesn't talk to us, I might have to get Isabella involved." She nibbled at her thumb's fingernail. "At least Gwen would be helping."

          "I bet you're starting to regret having given up on that solo."

          A.J. glared at her. "That's not what I said. I knew I wanted a freshman to have the solo, just to keep them motivated, but Isabella and I couldn't agree on which of them we wanted to choose. I wanted Gwen, she wanted Billie. In the end, Isabella's opinion will always overpower mine, so."

          She shrugged and Sasha shifted in her seat. A.J. wasn't one to sit down and start dumping her entire life story or talk to someone about her thoughts and feelings in extensive detail, which meant the current circumstances were even more abnormal.

          Sasha hesitated. Getting A.J. to open up would certainly help with their brainstorming and consequent collaboration, but she knew it would seem suspicious—and rightfully so. A.J. had no valid reasons to trust her, and it had been shocking to know she trusted Sasha to keep her feelings for Miyu and her sexuality in general a secret.

          "Do you know why Isabella didn't choose Gwen?" Sasha asked.

          "That's not what I said," A.J. replied, sipping her coffee. The strong smell reached Sasha's nostrils and her stomach tightened, wishing she had one of those herself. "She just preferred Billie, that's all. I'm used to disagreeing with her, but this was one of those things I wish she'd . . . I don't know, consider my opinion instead of brushing it aside because she has more experience with show choir groups than I do." She wrinkled her nose. "Last time I checked, the original club disbanded on her senior year. She failed. I don't make a habit out of losing or failing, so maybe—just maybe—my voice should have been heard. You know what happens to losers in this place. There's no room for them."

          "Elaborate."

          "Screw you, Sasha." A.J. set her cup aside, with some color having returned to her cheeks—not entirely, but enough. "She thinks Gwen would crumble under the pressure because she's shy and not as used to the spotlight as Billie—yes, even with the bombed audition for NYSPA and even if Gwen's audition for the club was far superior. Isabella wants Billie to feel at ease here, that we're all nonjudgmental and all that, but there are still some people who doubt her—Billie herself included. Gwen has experience, though, and, when she steps on the stage, it's like she's a completely different person."

          Then, Sasha understood.

          "You know, she kind of reminds me of you back when you were a freshman," she said. A.J. didn't react. "I mean, there are obvious differences, considering you never passed on a chance to think you were better than everyone else in the room"—A.J. scowled, but Sasha didn't allow herself to be intimidated—"but you were always so eager to prove yourself, to prove you were more than what people wanted you to be. You were good, and you knew just how good you were. Then, whenever we walked into an auditorium and you stepped on a stage, it looked like you'd forgotten about everyone watching you; it was just you, the script, and the music. That's when I—" She gulped before saying something she might regret later. "That's when I realized there was more to you than just a musical theater diva. It wasn't worth it hating you over watching you love what you were doing as passionately as you did. I think what happens with you and Gwen is something similar."

          A.J. shook her head. "The Twilight Tone isn't a way of manufacturing A.J.'s. We're not looking for the next A.J.; we're looking for a setlist that will blow the judges' minds, competition after competition. To me, it's not about turning the freshmen into miniatures of ourselves; it's about pushing them to be the best they can possibly be. I believe Gwen has it buried deep within her, but she only shows it off whenever she's performing. That's why I wanted her to land the solo—so that Isabella would see what I see."

          Then, silence fell over the auditorium.

          They only talked to suggest a song, only for the other to dislike it, so Sasha began to think it would go absolutely nowhere. Even the group number, which involved several more people, more than just two, had been a lot easier to agree on; it had been a majority vote, not a unanimous one, but they still had come to a conclusion.

          A.J. argued they couldn't choose the song without talking to Billie first, because everything needed to be absolutely perfect. Sasha thought Billie had to conform to their song choice, and base her solo on the performances that had already been planned.

          Needless to say, it wasn't going well.

          "Hear me out," Sasha eventually said, and A.J. let out such a loud, exasperated sigh people on the other end of the campus probably heard her. "Somebody To Love is a classic, right? Knowing Billie, she'll probably choose a song that will match that tone, that matches her, her personality, and her preferences, and that will let her belt out some high notes—Aretha, Mariah, Whitney. The people who get solos in the group number will sing their hearts out, just like they did the first time we performed that song. We just have to follow that trend."

          "She might also try to do something completely different from what we're expecting her to do and sing some bubblegum pop song you heard on the radio last week." A.J. closed her notebook. "I'm not throwing this competition away, Sasha. This is serious."

          "You also threw away all your chances of landing the solo; if you had performed like you used to at the beginning, like you did on Broadway, and like you've been doing during the past three years, we wouldn't be having this problem."

          A.J.'s phone buzzed and she rushed to check it. Then she pursed her lips together in a thin line. "Billie's doing Hero by Mariah Carey." Sasha crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, basking in her triumph—she was right, and it was about time A.J. admitted it, damn it. "That gave me an idea."

          "Do I want to hear it?"

          "Landslide, by Fleetwood Mac," A.J. continued, as though Sasha hadn't spoken. "Fully acoustic, almost unplugged. It's raw, honest, and fits the general mood of the performance. We have strong vocals in the solo and in the group number; a lot of shouting will throw the judges off and we're supposed to be performers, not just singers. There are a lot of intricacies involved and, if we make an effort—"

          Sasha buried her head in her hands, groaning. "If, by any chance, by any goddamn miracle we pull this off . . ."

          "We'll be one step closer to Nationals." Her armchair creaked when she stood up. "Let's split the lyrics."

          "You know, A.J."—Sasha dropped her hands and saw A.J. standing by the piano, lightly running her fingers across the keys—"I'm getting kind of tired of hating you. Maybe I should slap you more often."

          A.J. laughed. "Maybe you should."

A.J.

          "NERVOUS?"

          A.J.'s head snapped to the side so quickly she got whiplash. She sat in front of her vanity, the bright lights of the dressing room reflected on the glass, surrounded by makeup products and a hair straightener going through the tedious process of heating up. T.J. stood a few steps away from her, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.

          The entire situation took her back to the first day of the semester, when they didn't even have a show choir club to worry about. They were simply sitting outside and he had asked her if she was nervous about being back in NYSPA after having been gone for so long; after all, the last time so many of their classmates had seen her, she was standing on a Broadway stage.

          That conversation felt like it had been held a decade ago, when, in reality, there had only been two months since then.

          She truly missed when things were simpler, when things between the two of them didn't feel as awkward and fragile, when she felt like there were no secrets between them—when there was nothing that could possibly tear them apart. They were twins and, whatever he felt, she felt too. Whatever she felt, he felt. The bond a pair of twins shared shouldn't be easily shattered, but, when the two of them felt like they could no longer trust the other, there wasn't much that could be done to prevent it from happening.

          "Hey, Teej," she greeted, and spun around in her chair to face the mirror once again. "Are you nervous?"

          "I don't really have the time to be nervous, though I'm sure you know what that feels like."

          Hearing that comment left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she was certain he was aware of it. They had spent their entire lives biting their tongues whenever the other was around, because, when you had parents who constantly compared the two of you and favored one over the other, you had to learn what was acceptable to say and what was not.

          When he had asked her to sing that Elton John song with him, at the beginning of Oldies week, she didn't even think twice. She had quickly forgotten she was mad at him for having acted behind her back and sided with Sasha, even if it had been for the greater good—the fate of The Twilight Tone—and almost thought they were slowly returning to normal.

          Except they weren't.

          She had realized it as soon as she started paying attention to the lyrics. The song was about being triumphant in the face of defeat, about getting the last laugh, of asserting one's return to the spotlight—one T.J. probably felt like it had been denied to him his entire life. A.J. knew her brother, and she knew how his thought process worked; besides, she'd have to be incredibly stupid to not think about that possibility.

          "I heard you changed the setlist," he continued, when she didn't reply. "Why did you do that?"

          "You know I can never refuse an opportunity to belt out my high notes."

          "And to do it better than Sasha."

          A.J. sighed. "I suppose."

          She still doesn't know how in the world she allowed herself to be bribed by the promise of getting all the high, longer notes as long as she let Sasha make some last minute changes to their duet. Instead of sticking only with Landslide, they'll be singing a mash-up of Landslide and Go Your Own Way because, in Sasha's opinion, it would help smoothing the transition from Hero to Somebody To Love.

          A.J. wasn't thrilled. After the stupidly tedious time they spent in the auditorium choosing a song and practicing until it was perfect, the last thing she wanted to do was to change it.

          She had protested, thrown tantrums, and stomped her feet like a small child, but it was Sasha's promise to gladly let her do most of the hard work while performing that ultimately sealed their deal, though she wouldn't forget about it anytime soon.

          "Break a leg," she eventually said, and T.J. threw her a nervous smile before exiting the dressing room and leaving so many things left unsaid. She knew they had to talk about it eventually, but, as of that moment, the only thing that mattered was getting through Invitationals.

          Everything else was secondary.

          As if she hadn't been bothered enough, Sasha occupied T.J.'s place in the dressing room. Fortunately, when that happened, A.J. was on her way out.

          "Hi," Sasha greeted. She wore a pink, strapless dress, in contrast to A.J.'s cyan one, but both of them were wearing combat boots because that was probably the type of thing Stevie Nicks would do. "Ready?"

          "I was born ready," A.J. replied, through gritted teeth, and Sasha's lips twisted into a smirk. They left towards the auditorium together and A.J. swore she could feel her heartbeat hammering against her chest, thudding beneath her feet, and echoing in the hallways they crossed.

          Their assigned judge was a small, thin woman with a bob of white curls and round glasses that were a couple of sizes too big for her face. She seemed friendly and greeted them all with what seemed like sincere enthusiasm, but it did close to nothing to ease the palpable tension backstage.

          "You've got this," A.J. told Billie, who looked on the verge of passing out. In fact, she was shaking so badly it was a miracle there hadn't been an earthquake yet. "You've practiced your ass off."

          "What if I choke?" Billie questioned. "Again? This time, there will be no second chances."

          "Good thing you won't need one," Gwen intervened. "You can do this, Bill. We all know you can."

          "But no pressure, or anything," Levi joked, and Billie managed a small chuckle. Then, she straightened her shoulders and walked towards the stage, staring right at the judge, who sat in an armchair in the middle of the auditorium.

          She didn't choke. A.J. heard Isabella sigh of relief and forced herself to not think about how they wouldn't have had to have that problem in the first place if Gwen had landed the solo. It was petty, and it definitely wasn't the most important thing.

          That, however, was the duet.

          She found herself glancing at Miyu more often than she wished she would, especially when it was her turn to sing the I've built my life around you line. Miyu, standing backstage and half-hidden by a massive curtain, returned the look, and simply nodded, forcing A.J. to focus back on singing.

          It felt too intimate to sit there, on a wooden stool, singing what felt like a love ballad to her sworn archenemy. It got even worse when they switched songs, kicked the stools aside, and gave their hairography their all—and with A.J. claiming her precious notes.

          The judge seemed to have enjoyed it, anyway. A.J. saw her eyes twinkle like stars, even in the darkness of the auditorium as they dimmed the lights for the final number. It was the best they had sounded so far, but A.J. knew they needed to be even better if they were to move forward in the competition.

          She knew they'd have to face off against Nick at some point. She even thought about sending him a text just to let him know what was going on, but backed away at the very last second, as it probably would be too awkward. Things between them would never go back to what they used to be, and she had to suck it up and deal with it.

          "Great, great performance," the judge complimented, giving them a standing ovation. She was so small they could barely see her. "I'll take my notes and the recording back to the committee so we can discuss whether you've made it through to the next stage of the competition, but keep on practicing. You all have bright futures ahead of you." She grinned. "Results will be posted online by the end of next week."

          A.J. exhaled. Miyu's fingers brushed against the bare skin of her wrist, raising goose bumps all over her arm.

          She didn't hesitate to squeeze her best friend's hand.

their version of go your own way and landslide are a lot like the glee versions. i'm not even sorry (go rewatch the landslide performance, though. long live brittana)

also pls pls drop me a comment. it's kind of :/ to work so hard to dish out these chapters and not even get a "thanks for updating" comment idk man