SEASON ONE, EPISODE EIGHTEEN

BLAH BLAH BLAH

SASHA

          SECTIONALS WERE RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER. Yet, they still had no setlist, had no idea who they were going to compete against, and no general sense of direction.

          Needless to say, Sasha's mood had definitely taken a turn for the worse.

          She knew she wasn't the only one feeling restless. Even though she hated to admit it—and she really, really did—she could relate to A.J.'s mild breakdown before Invitationals, when nothing was going according to plan, when there wasn't even a plan in the first place, and barely anyone seemed to care.

          She had even tried to talk to A.J. about it, tried to convince her to do her job as the team leader and speak up, but, since she was on cloud nine—a clear change from being so deep in the closet she could barely see the light outside—in spite of still being too hidden outside of the choir room, it wasn't of much help.

          "I'd say something if it helped," she said, with a frown, standing next to her in the cafeteria line. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she, too, carried a plastic tray. "Trust me, I would. Isabella likes to do things her way, even though she'd promised we would always meet each other halfway whenever there were conflicting opinions, but I think we both know that's not the case. I'd like a small Caesar salad, please," she added. "I'm as concerned as you are and I can try to push her buttons, see if she comes back to reality, but I can't promise you anything."

          Sasha sighed as A.J. received her bowl of salad. It was a smaller dose than an appetizer. "Who do you think is getting the solo this time?"

          "I have no idea. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure I even want to know." A.J.'s face paled as every head in the NYSPA blog team table turned to face the two of them as they crossed the cafeteria, searching for empty seats where they could eat their lunch in peace. Sasha felt slightly faint, too, but recovered once she noticed the people who were also part of the Twilight Tone weren't sitting there. "Do you think . . .?"

          "That they know about you and Miyu?" Sasha mouthed the last two words, just in case, and A.J. risked a fearful nod. "I highly doubt it. Everyone in the choir room was sworn to secrecy and, even though I don't trust Angelina or anyone who works for that blog, I don't think they'd willingly run the risk of pissing off your entire management team. That sounds like too much, even for drama students."

          A.J. didn't look too convinced, pressing her lips together in a thin line, and slid to an empty chair. "I don't want the solo."

          Sasha nearly dropped her own tray with the shock hearing that caused. "Excuse me? Who are you?"

           A.J. shrugged. "Like, I want it, but it wouldn't feel right if I got it considering I have a say on who gets it—or, at least, I'm supposed to. If we're going to evaluate everyone's performances since Invitationals, it wouldn't be fair to pick me. There are people who have been more consistent with the quality of their performances and I've been just kind of . . . meh." She picked at her salad as Sasha carefully wrapped a paper napkin around her bagel. "If Isabella chooses me, everyone will know it's just because of what I did last week."

          "That was really brave, though. Would she be so wrong if she picked you?"

          She sighed. "Yes. If I'm getting the solo, I want to deserve it."

          Sasha struggled with finding the right thing to say and to think. Even though she meant what she said when she told A.J. she'd been brave as balls to do what she did, she also agreed she hadn't been consistently amazing with her performances since Invitationals. Back then, she'd gracefully stepped aside to let the freshmen get their time to shine, but she was supposed to be out for blood now, as they were playing the big leagues now.

          She'd been good, even great, but not flawless. The biggest risk she'd taken was 18 by One Direction and it was purely related to the meaning of the song and the meaning of the performance. Even so, Sasha feared Isabella would cave in and give her the solo anyway, which A.J. herself didn't want.

          Sasha knew she was just as good of a performer as A.J., if not better, in spite of not having any Broadway training. Now that the two of them could be in the same room without arguing and wanting to slap each other, it was easier to admit that they were standing next to each other when it came to measuring talent. However, based on previous performances alone, Sasha had the upper hand.

          She deserved that stupid solo, no matter how childish she sounded. She had fought like hell to get where she was, harder than everyone else in the club, and Isabella would be, quite frankly, making the biggest mistake of her life if she chose anyone else. She had the voice, the vocal range, and the charisma to make it work and to ensure they'd get first place.

          "I want you to have the solo," A.J. confessed, in a murmur.

          Sasha dropped her bagel. "What?"

          A.J. looked up at her through her eyelashes, as though it pained her to repeat herself. "I want you to have the solo. I'm going to pitch it to Isabella during today's meeting." She picked up a crouton with her fork and spun it around, examining it from all angles to check whether it was safe to eat or not. "If she wants to talk about being brave and baring yourself to the audience, I'll remind her of what you did during Soundtracks week. I know the things we did aren't comparable per se, but it's the gesture that counts for me. This week's theme is about being vulnerable, so she'd be a fool to ignore my opinion. We all know how much she hates to be proven wrong."

          "I thought you were the one who hated being proven wrong."

          "For that to happen, I'd have to actually be wrong." She ate the damn crouton. "Too bad I've never been wrong in my life."

          "I KNOW YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR THIS," Isabella announced, as soon as everyone was sitting on their designed seat in the choir room. A.J. elbowed Sasha in the ribs, but it was unnecessary; she was paying full attention to what Isabella was saying, as there was a possibility—no matter how small—that she'd remembered Sectionals were only a week away. "Right here"—she raised the Manila folder she was holding—"is all the information we need to complete our training for sectionals. We're going to know what the theme will be and who our competitors are. I understand some of you have been . . . anxious about not knowing anything"—her eyes darted towards the seats Sasha, A.J., and Tommy occupied—"but the Committee has only just released the details, so, even if I wanted to, I couldn't have told you anything earlier."

          Murmurs of anticipation filled the choir room and Sasha was moments away from jumping up from her seat. Isabella deliberately took the longest she possibly could to open the folder, which left everyone even more nervous than they already were.

          She exchanged a panicked look with A.J., but the latter quickly focused back on Isabella, with Miyu's arm loosely draped around the back of her chair. The NYSPA blog team, sitting on the back of the choir room, as always, scoffed at something and Sasha wondered why she had ever thought they were her friends. They just wanted privileged information to base their gossip on.

          Maybe A.J.'s concern wasn't so misplaced, after all. Even Sasha was beginning to worry about what they would do with what they saw last week, especially when there hadn't even been any NDAs passed around the choir room. That had been the greatest mistake of all.

          "The theme for Sectionals is . . . longing," Isabella started, and the whispering continued. She raised a hand to shut them up. "Considering there's a high amount of show choir groups in the country, there will be multiple competitions all around, occurring on separate days, but we're still scheduled for the Thanksgiving weekend next week. We'll be competing against the Spinal Chords from Juilliard"—Billie snickered—"and the Chord of the Rings from Barnard College."

          "No Vassar College," T.J. whispered, leaning towards A.J., and she visibly relaxed. Sasha thought it was no use to breathe of relief, as they were bound to face against Descant Get Enough at some point during the season, but she said nothing. "We're good."

          "We're good," A.J. echoed, fidgeting. "For now."

          Sasha raised her hand. "And the setlist?"

          Isabella scowled. "We just found out what the theme is. You can't possibly expect me to—"

          "—do your job? My bad." She crossed her arms. "Won't do it again."

          "I think we need to decide who's singing the solo and the duets right away," A.J. chimed in, with the distinct sound of fingers tapping on a keyboard echoing faintly behind her. "Every minute counts and, the sooner we get this done, the better."

          "You're getting the solo," Isabella said. Sasha's heart plummeted down to her stomach and A.J. immediately turned to look at her, eyes wide open, mouthing 'what the hell'. "I want Gwen and Tommy for the duet."

          "You can't do that," Gwen protested, but Sasha didn't know whether that was because she didn't want to sing with Tommy—which everyone knew she didn't, especially Isabella—or because she was genuinely outraged over Isabella's lack of proper team management, throwing around solos and duets like candy. "There's no way you've already made a decision when there's no setlist and you just found out the theme—"

          "You wanted proactivity. I'm being proactive."

          "I'm supposed to have a voice here," A.J. remarked, springing up from her seat. "Let them speak, too. How is any of this fair?"

          Isabella huffed in frustration. "Then what do you want me to do?"

          "I want you to rethink your decision." A.J. squared her shoulders. "I don't want the solo. I think Sasha should sing it."

          Isabella glared at her, then at Sasha. "No."

          "But—"

          "You can quit the show, you know," Angelina pointed out. A.J., who was dead scared of her and her cronies, could barely handle looking at her. "This club has been the A.J. show ever since day one, so I have no idea why you're suddenly so upset about getting a solo during a competition. Isn't that what you wanted? To be better than all of us? To have every single decision favor you?"

          "Of course not!" A.J. balled her hands into fists as both Miyu and T.J. stood up. Sasha shot daggers at Isabella with her eyes, as she was doing absolutely nothing to stop people from arguing a week before Sectionals, and she couldn't believe she'd been robbed from her solo once again. "I care about this club as much as I care about winning; we're not going to win if I sing." She glanced at Sasha. "Sasha will sing the solo and we're going to win."

          "Empty promises do nothing," Angelina continued. "You expect us to feel sorry for you and worship the ground you walk on, when in reality you're just a self-serving, narcissistic, insecure little girl who constantly feels the need to step on other people as if that would make you any better. Newsflash, honey; we're all sick and tired of walking on eggshells around you and it's about time you take it down a notch."

          "The higher they are, the higher they fall," another blogger added.

          "Stop this nonsense," Isabella intervened. "Sit down, everyone."

          "And you're going to side with her, obviously," Angelina hissed, "like she's some sort of Messiah. This entire club is just an excuse for her to keep pushing her America's Angel narrative by getting closer to Nick again, let them play the role of star-crossed lovers, and get positive publicity. Can't you see?" She accusingly pointed to A.J., who gulped. "That stunt from last week was just to make us redirect all our attention back to her because of course her brother's proposal couldn't upstage her!"

          "You need to shut up," Diana advised. "You don't know what you're talking about."

          "Don't I? Then why isn't she walking around the hallways and the streets of New York holding Miyu's hand?"

          "Because I'm not ready to—"

          "Bullshit. That's bullshit and you know it."

          "You don't get to control my life!" A.J. snapped. "You have no idea what it's like! You don't know what it's like to be scared all the time!"

          "You're a thin, conventionally attractive, rich white girl, for Christ's sake. Tell me again how your life is so hard." A.J.'s eyes filled with tears. "I thought so. You have absolutely nothing to be scared of when it's almost 2020. People don't care that you're gay; they care that you're a selfish bitch."

          "If you open your mouth—"

          "I won't." Angelina sits back down and Miyu sets a hand on A.J.'s arm, trying to convince her to do the same. However, A.J. didn't budge, eyes glued to Angelina. "I won't because that's not my story to tell and I'm not the type of person to out someone, but I just want you to know that the real world isn't as scary as you might think it is. Then again"—she shrugged—"you're living in a privileged bubble, so one can only assume you're threatened by anything that breaks the illusion you live in, where everyone and everything is obsessed with you."

          A.J. fell back to her seat, fuming, and Miyu muttered something in Japanese. Whatever it was, it sounded threatening.

          Meanwhile, Sasha was still thinking about the solo. Even if she didn't get it, it still made no sense for Isabella to make a decision so quickly, mere moments after discovering the theme and the competition. There was no setlist, nothing; then, what the hell was Isabella thinking?

          Why was she doing this?

          "Sasha, I can fix this," A.J. said, pleadingly, and Sasha felt her bottom lip tremble. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "I will fix this. I promise."

          "I don't think you can," Sasha whispered back. "They're gonna come for you."

          "I know. But I'm getting you that solo."

         INDEED, A.J. KEPT FIGHTING FOR SASHA'S RIGHT TO SING A SOLO. She spent the entire week doing so, arguing with Isabella during the breaks, before and after rehearsal, and Sasha knew she was doing her best—even if it came with absolutely no gain for her—but doubted it would have any effect on Isabella.

          Isabella had already made up her mind, regardless of how Sasha and everyone else felt about it, and people still thought A.J. was doing it for all the wrong reasons. The NYSPA blog staff shared the same opinion and were being openly hostile towards her by shooting snotty remarks whenever she was around, but no one thought they'd actually do anything to harm her directly.

          Until the day they did.

          Everyone was talking about it on Friday morning. By lunchtime, it was plastered everywhere around the campus and, even though T.J. and Diana had dedicated their entire morning doing damage control and prevented it from reaching A.J.'s ears, it didn't help anyone else from finding out.

          "I feel like murdering someone," Levi confessed. Zara slapped his arm. "What? You think this is okay?"

          "No," she said, "but neither is murder."

          Levi groaned, rubbing his face with his hands, and leaned back on his chair. They were hanging out in the choir room, as usual, and Sasha's heart hammered against her sternum, her pulse thudding against the walls of her skull. She knew it was going to happen.

          That was why she was furious.

          What they did was an issue of pride, a desire to get back at A.J. for whatever they thought she had done, to knock her off her pedestal. They'd done it out of pure malice, not to be white knights who were fighting for what was right. They weren't fighting for the club—they were fighting against her.

          "Will anyone please tell me why everyone is staring at me?" A.J. asked, barging into the choir room, and everyone jumped in their seats. No one had the heart to tell her the truth. She stopped, noticed the terrified look in their eyes, and hesitated. "What is it? What happened?"

          Miyu stood up. "We tried to make it go away. We reported the post, we tried talking to the Dean, but—"

          "What post?" She finally saw the open laptop on one of the chairs and the blog post. That stupid, stupid blog. "What did they say?"

          "A.J., don't—"

          She didn't listen, because of course she didn't. A.J. only listened to herself, no matter what she wanted to make everyone else believe, and she was just so goddamn stubborn Sasha wanted to fling her into the sun. However, under these circumstances, she would never have the heart to do so.

          Her heartbreak as her light-blue eyes scanned the blog post was palpable. A crease formed between her eyebrows and her eyes narrowed, but then she took a step back, inhaling sharply, and closed the notebook with a thud.

          "No," she muttered.

          Gwen tentatively began, reaching out a hand towards her, "A.J.—"

          A.J. shook her head, with a stubborn sob escaping from the bottom of her throat, and she stomped out of the room, her footsteps getting mixed with the buzzing of the whispers everywhere she went. Even though she had closed that laptop, everyone else had already seen the blog post. Everyone was talking about it, and it wouldn't be long before it reached social media.

SO, IT TURNS OUT IT'S ACTUALLY GAY.J., NOT A.J.: EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS REVEAL ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH GIRL FRIEND, PROVE ST. FLEETWOOD WAS FAKE.

today, we learned: don't out people.