That night became a historic night. Not because it was Kevin's debut concert, not even because of the record-high number of disapproving comments Dad uttered under his breath, but because I discovered an earth shattering fact: Alexander, the Golden Boy of the Chinese-American community, Mr. Can-Do-No-Wrong, had a weakness after all. Stage fright. And he had it bad. I mean real bad.

I knew I shouldn't be laughing so hard at a guy who was clearly scared out of his wits. Fundamentally, it was an asshole move. But the sight of Alexander clinging to the wall while wobbling toward the backstage area was too much for me to handle. Also, whoever said I was a good person?

"What exactly...happened?" I asked as Kevin came running after Alexander.

My brother scowled. His forehead was beaded with sweat. "Not sure. Kid was practicing just fine, until he took one look at the audience out there and-well, you can see for yourself. Just lost his mind entirely."

"No, I didn't. I'm fine," Alexander twisted around to protest. "Uh...leg cramp," he added feebly, convincing nobody.

"Just take a deep breath and shake it off, man," Kevin commanded, clapping Alexander on the shoulder. This action could only be interpreted as a poor oversight on his part, as Alexander collapsed onto the ground under the force of Kevin's friendly pat. "Oops."

"'M alrigh'," Alexander mumbled into the carpet.

"You and I must have different definitions of 'alright'." Kevin sighed. He ran a hand through his gelled black hair and took a deep breath. If nothing else, it seemed he had recovered from the shock of seeing Mom and Dad here, at least. Or if he hadn't, he was doing a good job of pretending the last encounter with his parents hadn't happened.

Alexander propped up his head to reveal a face drained of blood. "Let's rock and roll," he said weakly.

"Kevin, I don't know about you, but that does not look like the face of somebody I'd want playing the keyboard at my debut," I put in helpfully.

"I said, I'll be fine," Alexander insisted. He took one peek behind the curtains at the audience and promptly began wobbling again.

My brother took one look at the guy and sighed, throwing his hands up into the air. "Fantastic. I have to replace my replacement keyboardist now? Where am I even gonna find another pianist on such short notice?" He paced back and forth, nearly tripping over the many power cords assembled haphazardly across the floor backstage. Then Kevin's eyes fell upon me and widened. "Come to think of it, you're a pianis-"

"Oh, no. Don't even think about it," I cut him off.

"But you didn't even let me fin-"

"Exactly."

"At least pretend to consider-"

"No!"

"Nancy, you're really killing me here."

I sighed loudly. "Think about it. Do you really want to put the fate of your band into the hands of your conniving, evil little sister?" I hated to admit it, but I was nowhere near confident enough in my skills to learn a whole performance in thirty minutes.

Kevin blinked. He scratched his head and itched his nose. It concerned me that he was actually considering that as an option. Then he shook his head and resumed his pacing, his brows furrowed in frustration. "You're right. I must've had a moment of insanity," Kevin said, more to himself than to me. "Your piano skills are trashy, anyway."

"Exactly-hey!"

Vanessa came rushing over then, looking all out of sorts with her hair flying every which way. "Where's Alexander?" she demanded, panting and glaring like no tomorrow. Everyone standing nearby avoided eye contact with her. "God, I can't believe it. I didn't even finish teaching him the part, and the kid just took off!"

Before Kevin and I could decide whether it was more dangerous to stay quiet or send her on the warpath toward Alexander, Vanessa stopped in front of us and calmly assessed the situation for a moment. Her eyes locked on a lone figure still leaned against the wall. In one swift movement, she parted the crowd of performers, grabbed Alexander around the collar, and hoisted him to his feet.

In the past, there were many times I'd wished I were Alexander Lin. But trust me when I say I would not have wanted to be Alexander at that moment.

"What the hell are you doing down there-sweeping the floor with your face?" Vanessa snarled.

Alexander's blank face paled, a bead of sweat trailing down his face. "Uhhh..."

"We have a performance in half an hour. Are you going to be ready by then or not? Because if you're not, you better own up to your on spinelessness and clear out-now!" Vanessa's fury unleashed itself onto poor Alexander, whose face now resembled a pasty milk white. The nearby performers were now avoiding us with a wider birth than ever. I backed away with them and pretended I didn't know these people.

Alexander gulped, visibly straining with the idea of performing on stage. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. His black eyes darted back and forth, as if searching for an escape route. I suddenly felt sorry for him; it was a huge task to learn the keyboardist piece and perform it all in one night. No matter how much of a miracle worker he was, even Alexander had to have his limits.

"Maybe you guys should just chop out the keyboard entirely," I suggested into the tense silence.

Vanessa whirled on me. I inhaled a sharp breath, but all she did was release her grip on Alexander's shirt and sigh. All the fight came out of her limbs, and she slumped over, limp as a rag doll. "Maybe you're right. Hell, we're sunk at this point anyway." Vanessa laughed mirthlessly. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"No-no," Alexander protested. He slapped himself on the cheeks, shook his body, and forced his eyes to stare into Vanessa's head on. "Don't count me out just yet."

"Look, fella, we really need to not screw this one up." She jabbed him in the chest with her index finger. "So don't be trying to act all tough and shit if you're just going to chicken out on stage."

"No. I'm a man. I can do this."

Vanessa sized up Alexander for a moment. He looked a little more confident, a little less like he was marching to his deathbed. A little more like the Alexander I was familiar with.

"Fine," Vanessa barked at last. "We're going to practice the hell outta that keyboard."

"Yes, ma'am."

"We're either gonna rock this thing or crash and burn trying."

"Fine with me."

"And if you run out on me one more time, you'd better clear this state come tomorrow morning."

On that lovely note, Vanessa grabbed Alexander by the forearm and marched him toward the practice room. A huge wave of relief passed over everyone in the vicinity as the tension left the room.

Kevin, who'd I forgotten was standing right behind me, let out a low whistle. "Man. Is that girl magnificent or what?"

For once, I had to agree with my brother.

*

I was wracked with nerves right from the very first performance of the night. It wasn't even like I was performing or anything, but I might as well have been. I just felt anxious for Alexander, felt nervous for my brother, felt apprehensive about how my parents were going to react to their son's debut in the music world. If I could've seen my own stomach, I was certain the thing would've been tied up in a million different knots. Being part of this family was going to send me to an early grave, you mark my words.

"Is Kevin really going to perform?" Dad asked doubtfully, his trademark frown on his face.

I sighed. "Yeah. Why else would he have us come all the way out there?"

My father stayed silent for a moment. "He has been known to do stupid things before."

I rolled my eyes and looked toward Mom, expecting her to chide Dad for complaining about his son even on his big night. Mom just stayed tight-lipped and silent. I could tell that even she wasn't sure how this performance was going to turn out.

When neither of us responded, Dad did what he was best at-finding another thing to complain about. "Americans are so noisy," he grumbled. He glared at a buff, tattooed guy who'd just bumped into him, and readjusted his tie. Then he shifted his leg from weight to weight and frowned at the ground. "Why aren't there chairs for us to sit in?"

"Dad, everyone stands at these kinds of concerts."

"If I wanted cardio workout, I would have gone to the gym!"

"When is Kevin performing?" Mom asked for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes, like the performance order wasn't explicitly stated on posters lined up around the red cement walls.

"Not yet," I sighed.

There wasn't a huge turnout, but it was a fairly respectable-sized crowd. I'd say fifty to sixty was not a bad estimate. It didn't escape my notice that Mom, Dad and I stuck out like sore thumbs, though; most members of the fifty-to-sixty strong crowd were tattooed, had multiple body piercings, wore heavy eyeliner (even the guys), and had some seriously...interesting hairstyles.

"Hooligans," I imagined Dad saying. He probably did say it-I just couldn't hear him over the noise level of the crowd. Everyone had gotten excited when a lanky, twenty-something year old guy with spiky purple hair stepped up to the microphone sitting in the center of the stage.

"How're we doing tonight, folks?" he bellowed, raising a fist into the air. A nonsensical combination of shouts followed his question. Someone threw a beer can onto the stage. Classy.

The concert was officially underway. I imagined Alexander panicking backstage, and felt a lump of sympathy rise in my chest. I hoped he hadn't puked or something by now. I hoped Vanessa hadn't lost her temper and made good on any of her threats.

While I chewed my nails and tried not to imagine Vanessa beating up Alexander, the emcee introduced the first group, Fadeout. The members filed onto the stage to whistles and shouts from the crowd. Apparently, they were a favorite here.

"Is this Kevin's group?"

"Mom, do ya see your son up there?" I said in exasperation. When she continued to look confused, I slapped my head. "No. The answer is no."

I couldn't focus on Fadeout's performance, or whatever group came after them. My hands had begun to feel a bit clammy from the cold sweat forming in my palms. For maybe the first or second time in my life, I really, really wanted to see the band succeed. I wanted to see Alexander succeed. I wanted to see my brother succeed.

My nerves reached an all-time high when the emcee yelled, "Give it up for our next group, the up-and-coming KevNCrew!"

I stiffened. Next to me, I felt Mom stiffen as well. She didn't need to ask this time. We both knew who was about to take to the stage.

There was a smattering of polite applause, but for the most part, it was clear that KevNCrew was a fresh group. People craned their necks to get a closer look at the stage. Nobody really knew who was about to come out, or what to expect.

Alexander was the first to take the stage. Unfortunately. He sort of stumbled onto the stage, looking apologetic about it. He stopped and had to squint under the bright lights for a moment, but kept a nervous smile plastered on his face, and stepped toward the keyboard. I winced and had to look away when he tripped over absolutely nothing.

"What is Alexander doing up there?" Dad demanded. Mom looked equally shocked.

Oh, right. I hadn't told them anything yet. "Uh...I'll explain later."

"And why does he look so small?" Mom added, squinting up at the stage with a slight frown on her face.

It was a valid question. The black T-shirt Alexander had changed into was at least three sizes too big for him. It dwarfed his frame. As he crouched behind the keyboard, I couldn't help but wince at how small and shrunken Alexander looked on stage, not at all like his usual self. His face had now turned from white to a pleasant shade of green.

Guess it was too much to hope for him to conquer his stage fright completely.

Vanessa filed in next with a confident strut. She held her head up high, her short dark hair bobbing as she walked. Every step seemed deliberate, and her purple vest sparkled brighter than ever under the stage lights. She commanded attention.

The drummer-Matt, I recalled his name was-followed behind Vanessa, his curtain of long brown hair covering his face as he slouched into position. He didn't have much stage presence to speak of, either.

Kevin was the last to take the stage. He came out slowly, a little too slowly, as if he were savoring every moment, every footstep. There was a huge grin on his face. I couldn't decide if his expression was full of nervousness or excitement, or a combination of the two. Once he'd reached center stage, my brother grabbed the microphone with a confidence that I'd never known my brother to have before.

"Oh, Kevin," was all my Mom could say.

I found myself grinning, and looked over at Dad to see his reaction. He had folded his arms, his face perfectly impassive. I didn't even know why I'd expected anything more. The guy wouldn't know emotion if it hit him upside the head.

Then KevNCrew launched into their song. It started out slowly. Kevin sang to us with his eyes closed, his face relishing every word. It felt like we were being serenaded. The whole crowd was drawn in by the group's charisma, the way Kevin gently rocked the microphone, the way Matt leaned into his drums, the way Vanessa gently plucked her guitar. Kevin's voice was beautiful, and the band perfectly backed up his vocals.

The only member who (understandably) lacked any kind of stage presence was Alexander. Far from being charismatic, the expression on his face could only be described as a cross between deer-in-the-headlights and just-got-kicked-in-the-ballsack.

A few times, I could tell that Alexander had played a wrong note. The audience grew a little restless as some of them started to notice as well. I caught Alexander's panicked eye at those times and motioned for him to take a deep breath.

Please, please, please don't screw this up for my brother, I tried to mentally tell him.

Halfway through, the song abruptly became fast-paced, upbeat, and extremely catchy. It was an exhilarating experience seeing Kevin thrust his microphone back and forth, singing his heart out. Alexander, I was relieved to see, had relaxed into the music and was pounding away on the keyboard like he'd been practicing with the group his whole life. The energy level both on and off stage grew and grew. When Kevin swung the mic down at the end of the song, the audience was whooping and screaming for an encore.

"Thank you very much!" Kevin shouted, making a "rock-on" pose with his index finger and pinky. I thought it was corny as hell, but the crowd only whooped louder. Go figure.

Mom hugged me and sobbed into my shoulder. I hugged her back, feeling elated, like I'd just killed it on stage myself. Alexander hadn't puked. Vanessa hadn't publicly shopped Alexander's butt for puking. Kevin hadn't screwed up-he'd done the opposite. He'd done us, and more importantly, himself, proud.

Dad tried to stay stony-faced, but even he couldn't keep his lips from twitching upward. "Not bad," I could just barely hear him say over the noise.

And believe me-coming from that man, "not bad" was the compliment of a lifetime.

A/N - HI. Yes. It's me. I'm alive. I won't try to make excuses about my 4 month (God, that's such a ridiculous time) absence, but I'm sorry it took so long to get this chapter out T_T I kept rewriting and hating it and just set it aside when college life got the better of me. Thankfully, we're only like 2-3 chapters away from the end, so I'll definitely do a better job of updating from here on out.

As always, I'd love to hear your feedback, so please comment/vote if you enjoyed! Thanks so much for the support!