SEASON ONE, EPISODE TWENTY

SECTIONALS

          GWEN'S PALMS WERE HORRIBLY SWEATY.

          Everything that could go wrong was going wrong, at least in her head, and nothing was working out the way she'd planned. As if having to sing a duet with Tommy Santos wasn't bad enough in the first place, she had spent the entire week rehearsing the number with him, along with the group number, and she felt like her sanity was slowly slipping away.

          Against her better judgment, she had started keeping up with show choir blogs, just to keep track of her competition, but that proved to be less helpful than she had assumed. Different blogs favored different groups, with college blogs supporting the household names, but all of them were spreading the most recent gossip.

          Namely: they were all contributing to A.J. being outed against her will and strengthening her decision to quit the Twilight Tone. Fortunately, most of them didn't seem to be tone-deaf to the point of taking pleasure from her misery and were criticizing whoever had leaked that photo and the information, offering their support, but still felt obligated to report on the news. After all, she was now part of the show choir world, so, in their minds, it felt like the right thing to do.

          Gwen would beg to differ. A.J. still hadn't said a word to any of them, refusing to even look at them while the culprit didn't step forward, and her social media accounts were completely silent. She hadn't unfollowed everyone and deleted all her posts a la Taylor Swift during the reputation era, but Gwen thought her silence was worse than that.

          Nevertheless, Gwen still knew A.J.'s decision was final and she was never coming back, even though it pained a lot of people to admit it and to come to terms with it. She'd been the one to revive it and she was paying for it—costumes, transportation—out of her own pocket, so moving on without her felt bittersweet, but it's what they had to do in order to keep the club going.

          Sectionals were being held at Juilliard, because of course they were. Rows and rows of plush chairs filled the massive auditorium of the Alice Tully Hall. Gwen felt minuscule inside it, firmly holding the straps of her backpack, and looked around her, taking in the stage and the curvature of the ceiling. The acoustics were incredible, but she expected that much from something right in the middle of Broadway.

          "Still can't believe we're actually here," Billie commented, eyes sparkling as they returned to the lobby to meet up with the rest of the club. The blog team, as always, stuck together and isolated from the rest of the group, who was giving them the cold shoulder. "Do you really think we can win?"

          "I hope we can," Gwen admitted. "I've been reading about the other groups online and watched their tapes from Invitationals and from previous competitions. They're really good."

          "Yeah, but so are we." Billie gave her a playful wink. "We also got past Invitationals and, back when the NYSPA show choir group used to be a thing in Isabella's time, they were also good."

          "Good doesn't cut it," Diana commented, joining them. The diamond ring around her ring finger glistened under the bright lights of the auditorium. "We have to be perfect if we want to win and these are people who never had to worry about their club being disbanded. We can't afford the luxury of getting too comfortable or even underestimate them. They're worthy opponents, no matter how good we are—or think we are."

          "People are nervous enough as it is," Gwen pointed out. "I think it's best if we give them the slightest bit of hope so they won't collapse on stage. Do we lose if someone passes out during a performance?"

          "Am I the only one in this club who has read the show choir rulebook?" Brody questioned, which made everyone in the room reply with a 'yes'. Even though Gwen herself knew a thing or two about show choir groups, Brody was usually the one who had to remind everyone of the rules. The last time she had done so almost ended in disaster and she felt guilty over it, worrying it could have fueled the blog team's hatred for A.J. and led them to do what they did. "We don't lose if someone passes out, but we're only allowed to leave the stage for five minutes max, otherwise we get disqualified. So, if anyone passes out and people have to leave, the minimum number of people needed to qualify have to stay on that stage."

          "Our resident prone-to-passing-out-after-a-performance person isn't here, luckily, so I suppose we won't have to worry about that," some girl commented, receiving murderous glares from the great majority of the group. "What? You know it's true. Imagine if she passed out right after the solo."

          "Good thing she's not here to punch that stupid smirk off your face," Sasha dryly retorted, crossing her arms. She wore her leather jacket over her shoulders. "It's my solo now and I assure you I won't pass out, but, if you have any doubts concerning my ability to behave myself on stage, feel free to drop them in the suggestions and feedback box by the entrance."

          "Guys, gather 'round," Isabella announced, raising her voice and clapping twice so everyone would pay attention to her instead of arguing. They'd all been doing that a lot recently. "I understand you're all feeling a bit jittery, considering this is our first time performing in front of a real audience, not to mention we're competing against really strong teams, but I have utmost faith in you. The past few days haven't been the greatest and I sense a lot of tension between all of you"—Billie and Gwen exchanged a nervous glance—"but we have to put our differences aside if we want to win tonight. If we don't perform as a united group, we're going to lose. I'm not asking you to be best friends with each other, but I demand the slightest bit of respect, unlike what you've shown Allison."

          They'd been assigned their own adapted dressing room, which, in reality, was a room filled with mirrors, clothing hangers, and changing booths. Their costumes had already been delivered to the room, each of them with an identifying tag so no one would use someone else's outfit, and things were getting real.

          Gwen was going to perform a duet on that stage in just a few moments. There was an entire group of people depending on her and Tommy. How was she supposed to not feel jittery? Or was that a fancy word for feeling devastatingly horrified?

          "We'll be going first, which, admittedly, is not ideal," Isabella continued, closing the door once they were all already inside. "I've taken the liberty of doing a little digging on our opponents for the night. The Spinal Chords from Juilliard have the home advantage here, but we can't assume the judges have been bribed to favor them, even though . . ." She sighed. "Even though there might be a possibility of that having happened. You're not the only ones who read show choir blogs; it's been happening ever since I was competing. These things can get nasty and, if you thought the competition in NYSPA was toxic, then you haven't been properly introduced to the world of show choir competitions."

          "Please get to the point," Gwen asked, in a shaky voice. Behind her, Billie gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, which did next to nothing to calm her nerves.

          "Their leader is someone named Bliss Zhao. She's a junior and this is her third year competing, but don't think of her as an amateur. That girl is a real powerhouse, but that just so happens to be their weakest spot. Their performances revolve around her—solos, duets, even group numbers—whereas we have the advantage of working as a team and depending on each other. There's a lot of strength, talent, and stage presence in this group, so we're going to use that. We're going to show those judges how it's done—we're going to show them the power of nearly a hundred voices."

          "What about the Chord of the Rings?" Sasha questioned. She was the only one of them who had already changed into her costume, which fit her perfectly. The red dress fit her curves down to her waist, when it flared open into a skater skirt, ending just above her knees. "What should we know about them?"

          "They're rookies, like us, and I don't think we have to worry about them."

          "I don't think we should underestimate them, though," Diana repeated. For someone so small, she could certainly quiet down a room to make them all listen to her. "They might be rookies, but that just means we don't know what to expect from them. We have their Invitationals video, remember? If you had bothered to watch it, you know those girls are really good."

          Isabella pursed her lips together into a thin line. The humidity outside had pissed off her hair to an incredible extent, like she had shoved her finger into an outlet, and her rebel curls sprung up in various directions.

          That particular pep talk was cut short, as people began grabbing their outfits from the clothing rack and took turns getting into the clothing boots to change clothes. Sasha was clearly not interested in the conversation and rolled her eyes, marching towards hair and makeup. Gwen hesitated, but Billie still gave her a slight push forward, silently telling her to go pick up her outfit.

          Quickly after, she was already dressed up. Her stomach churned as she paced around the room, without finding the courage to finish getting ready, even though they were expected on stage in just a few minutes. She fidgeted, wondering if calling her family now would be a good idea, but mostly everyone around her looked so calm, so confident she was beginning to believe she was the problem.

          She decided to approach Sasha, who was still sitting in the makeup chair, supporting her head on one hand. She scrolled through her phone with her free hand, distracted, and didn't notice Gwen's arrival.

          "I need advice," Gwen blurted out.

          Sasha raised her head. "What?"

          "I'm kind of freaking out." Gwen sat next to her. "I know we're not friends or anything remotely close to that, but I don't know who else to talk to. Everyone I'm close to is a freshman and they don't have the same experience you have." Sasha briefly frowned and they both knew what lingered in the air—what Gwen originally meant to say. Sasha wasn't the best at giving advice and Gwen had always seen someone else as a mentor. "Please tell me you're nervous, too. I don't think I can handle this much pressure. There are so many people depending on me—"

          Sasha raised a hand. "That's where you have to stop. People are depending on all of us, not just you. You're part of a team, Gwen, and, if you go out there thinking like you're the only one who matters, the only one who can either succeed or screw up, you're going to ruin it for the rest of us. Sit still. Let me do your makeup."

          Gwen looked up at the ceiling as Sasha carefully applied a line of Kohl on her lower lash line. "I don't think Tommy and I have any chemistry. Not on stage. Especially not off it."

          "That's okay. You just have to pretend. We're supposed to be performers, right? It's not just about singing or dancing."

          "I don't want to lie."

          Sasha huffed, covering Gwen's lips with a coat of bright red lipstick, the same color of their dresses. "It's not lying—it's performing. Are actors liars? No. They just have a role to play and, on that stage, so do we. Even though the group chemistry and the relationships between all of us aren't ideal, we have to play the part. That's the only way we're going to win; no amount of talent can save us if we don't work well as a team."

          "Everyone, it's time!" Isabella called. Gwen immediately sprung up from her seat. "In three minutes, we're going to be on that stage. Sasha, you're up first." Next to Gwen, Sasha stiffly nodded. She was going to sing Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi, but no one let her anywhere near the grand piano. "Then, Gwen and Tommy will sing their duet." It was Don't You (Forget About Me) by the Simple Minds. Gwen wasn't thrilled. "Finally, the group number. You can't go wrong with ABBA."

          "Take a chance, take a chance," Levi sang.

         Zara elbowed him in the ribs. "Save your voice for the stage."

          "I believe in you, guys," Isabella revealed. "We'll have to keep working on our team dynamics moving forward, but we're good. We're talented. We're gonna go on that stage and prove to everyone who's watching that we're a force to be reckoned with." She reached out an arm towards the center of their circle. "Show circle. It's an old show choir tradition and we're going to use it from this point forward. It's the first of many competitions."

          Slowly, people placed one of their hands on top of Isabella's, one by one, and the circle was complete. Miyu was the most hesitant of all, but still did it. At that moment, they knew what they had to do, even though no one had given them any instructions on how to proceed.

          They lowered their arms, then raised them up in the air.

          "The Twilight Tone!" they chanted.

          "And now we win," Isabella declared. "Let's get moving!"

          They made their way backstage, aware of their reality for the first time. There wasn't that much time left and, when Sasha stopped right where the curtains met, her shoulders dropped.

         "And now, from NYSPA, in New York City, New York," a man's voice announced, echoing in the auditorium, "the Twilight Tone!"

          Sasha took a deep breath, opened the curtains, and stepped into the light. The spotlight circle was waiting for her just in the middle of the stage, behind a tall microphone, and Gwen crossed her fingers, praying everything would be alright.

          Even though she could barely distinguish the people in the audience, she found herself trying to figure out whether A.J. had made it or not. She highly doubted she had, but part of her wanted to believe she still wanted to support the people she didn't dislike. After all, Miyu, T.J., and Diana were competing that night.

          Sasha nailed her solo. It was raw and powerful, receiving a standing ovation, and set the tone for further performances; it showed everyone—the judges, the audience, their opponents—that they weren't playing any games. Her eyes were tear-filled by the time she arrived backstage and ran towards the dressing room to retouch her makeup before the group number.

          "You ready to do this, partner?" Tommy quietly asked. Even though he wore his usual smirk, his voice sounded doubtful—more human, even.

          "As ready as I'll ever be," Gwen replied.

          It was their turn. Gwen knew the song by heart, even reversed, and she knew Tommy was in the same situation. All she had to do was have enough self-control to not step on his foot or scowl whenever he had to touch her.

          And she did. There was a point in their performance they had to walk on a circle, with a hand on each other's waist, and they nailed it. Even though everything inside of Gwen shook like a goddamn earthquake and she was already picturing how she'd trip and fall, nothing bad happened.

          The group number was full of energy, intricate dance routines, and plenty of comradeship. Gwen focused on hitting her steps and her notes, moving in unison with the group, and then she understood.

          They weren't a machine—they were better than that. They were people with a common goal and they were highly determined to reach it. Was there anything more dangerous than that?

         Juilliard's show choir group was led by a pink-haired Asian girl, Bliss Zhao, and, like Isabella had said, their performances revolved around her. There was a good reason for that, as she was one of the best vocalists Gwen had ever heard, but she didn't perform much. She was static, merely a singer, and Gwen understood what Sasha had been trying to tell her.

          They were performers, not singers, not dancers.

          Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode, Skinny Love by Bon Iver, Fourth of July by Fall out Boy; solo, duet, group number, respectively. It was all about Bliss and she had to always be involved. Regardless, they were good. Like, award-winning good.

          Once all three groups had performed, there was nothing they cared about other than finding out who had won Sectionals and was moving on to Regionals. Miyu had confirmed A.J. had, in fact, skipped watching their competition, as there were more important things she had to deal with, but no one was entirely surprised.

          The host, a tall man with white hair who wore a perfectly fitted suit and looked eerily like Anderson Cooper, called the three groups onto the stage. It was a miracle the stage was big enough to fit all of them, but the way they positioned themselves carried plenty of information about their dynamic. Bliss stood in front of everyone, whereas the Barnard College girls huddled close together. The Twilight Tone dispersed, with a few groups forming here and there.

          "The results are in," the host revealed, holding an envelope. One of the drummers played a quick melody in anticipation as the host slowly opened the results. "In third place . . . Barnard College's Chord of the Rings!" The Barnard College girls looked utterly devastated, breaking into tears right on stage, but Gwen couldn't allow herself to be worried about them. Billie's hand squeezed hers so tightly it cut off her circulation. Could bones be broken that way? "The moment you've all been waiting for! The winner of tonight's Sectionals is . . ."

          "I'm going to throw up," Diana whined.

          ". . . surprisingly, NYSPA's the Twilight Tone!"

          "What?" Bliss shrieked, but no one paid her any attention.

          A cannon exploded, drowning the Twilight Tone in confetti, and Gwen was swallowed by hugs. She was hugging people she had barely said two words to in her life, but, at that moment, none of that mattered.

          They had won.

          They were going to Regionals—but at what cost?

(fade to black)

END OF SEASON ONE