“I assume Cole gave you an overview of the rules?” Ran asked as we stepped inside.
Cole hadn’t. “Sure,” I lied quickly. In my frantic attempts to get someone new to like me, I wasn’t above lying.
Ran gave me a skeptical look. “Well, let me give you a refresher.”
I pulled my shoulders inward and dropped my head to look at the ground. Thing is, I was a terrible liar, so this strategy often backfired.
“Don’t make noise on the bus,” he began, “someone is always trying to sleep. The guys will be exhausted between shows, so they need to get their rest when we’re driving during the day. Don’t leave your things scattered around, or they’ll disappear. We have two junk bunks—one actually, now that you’re here—and that’s where you can store anything that doesn’t fit in your drawer.”
As Ran spoke, I began to tune him out. There were a dozen arbitrary-seeming rules when it came to life on the bus, and in my haze of lingering embarrassment and nerves, I struggled to file them away in my memory. I kept nodding as we walked through the parking lot, but when we stopped by a white van—Ran’s car—he fixed me with an irritated look.
“Above all else, don’t shit on the bus.”
That made my neck snap straight. “Excuse me?”
He opened the door and motioned for me to get in. “I’m not being metaphorical. The plumbing sucks. Wait until we stop at the venue for sound check or when we’re getting food.”
I nodded, heat radiating off my cheeks, and climbed into the front seat.
* * *
The words “Moda Center”glowed a fluorescent white at the top of the massive venue. We drove past the line of waiting attendees snaking around the public parking lot and stopped at a security booth where a guard checked our passes. It was dusk, around seven pm on a warm, late-July night, and the show was about to start. My parents had taken me to a handful of Cole’s concerts back in River Valley, but I’ve never been to a massive venue like this one. Just the thought of how packed it would get inside there tonight made me feel sick. It brought me right back to the terrifying memory of getting lost in a massive crowd at a Christmas Market in Philadelphia at age seven. Ever since then, I’d never felt comfortable packed in with other people.
Ran handed me a pass that said “ALL ACCESS” with my name below in blocky letters. “Don’t lose it. The replacement fee is $200.”
I clutched the laminated rectangle and nodded. “Don’t worry, I never lose things.”
Ran pursed his lips and nodded. He set a quick pace as soon as we got out of the car, making it apparent he had someplace to be. The sense that I wasn’t welcome had begun to marinate inside my gut, and my nerves, which were already stretched tight, vibrated with anxiety. I hoped I’d get to see Cole before they went on stage.
Ran walked confidently through a maze of gray hallways, and I fought to stay close to him, the heavy backpack digging into my shoulders and back. At last, we stopped outside a door labeled “Green Room”.
“They’re in there,” Ran said, indicating I should open the door.
I swallowed, my pulse hammering in my ears. Now that I was about to meet everyone, my insecurities were flaring up like fourth of July fireworks. Did my skin look okay? Could I hold a conversation with my brother’s bandmates? Would they treat me like a kid? I wasn’t legally an adult, but I was desperate to be on equal footing with the people I was going to spend two weeks with. I thought Cole would make that easy by introducing me to everyone and setting the tone, but he wasn’t here, and Ran was already turning to leave.
I took a deep breath and pulled on the handle of the door.
The first person I saw was Ezra, Cole’s best friend and the drummer of Bleeding Moonlight. He was facing away from me, mid-conversation with someone sitting down on the sofa, but I immediately recognized his reddish hair even from the back. He looked over his shoulder when the door closed behind me, and his eyes widened. “Holy shit. Ivy!”
I didn’t manage to get my greeting out before he crossed the distance between us and pulled me into a fierce hug. Growing up, Ezra and my brother had been inseparable, so out of the entire band, I knew him best. I liked the drummer. He’d always been kind and friendly toward me, and his enthusiastic greeting was a welcome change from the lukewarm reception I’d received from Ran.
I wrapped my arms around him and smiled into his shoulder. “Hey, Ezra. Long time.”
After a moment, he pulled back and examined me at arm’s length. “I haven’t seen you in what, two years? You’ve grown!”
“Sounds about right,” I said. “You didn’t stop by the last time Cole visited. Mom was upset you didn’t come.”
Ezra grinned. “I can’t remember why I didn’t. But I’d do just about anything now to get some of your mom’s chili. Tour food gets old quick. Well, you’ll find out for yourself soon enough,” he said with a chuckle before glancing back at the three men sitting on the sofa. “Guys, this is Cole’s sister. Come meet her.”
A tall man with a thick beard came up first, wearing a cut off T-shirt and army-green cargo pants.
I squinted at him. “Silas? I can barely recognize you under that beard.”
The enormous guitarist let out a booming laugh and extended his hand. “So you remember me, huh? Wasn’t sure you would. You were a little baby when we first started practicing at your place.”
I used to watch Silas, Ezra, and Cole play when they were starting out as a band. They’d gather after school and practice in our garage while I made weak attempts at studying at a folding table I had dragged outside. Back then, all I’d wanted was to watch my older brother in action.
“I was twelve, hardly a baby,” I retorted while shaking his hand.
