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While it was true that Bren wasn’t going to be nominated for a Grammy anytime soon, he was far from tone deaf, no matter what he said to the contrary. Given some of the people who Nat said got to sing last year, he could probably get a named role if he put in some practice.

“You’re a lot better than you think,” A.J. said, trying not to swoon as the tips of Bren’s ears went red. Blushing Bren almost never came out to play.

“Dude, if he can carry a tune, he needs to be Rum Tum Tugger.”

A.J. could see it, Bren gyrating away, charming all the lady cats and at least one of the boy cats, too.

“Yeah! Oh, or what about Mungojerry? He’s got that grin!”

Nat nodded in agreement but Bren’s brow furrowed as the redness crept down towards his cheeks.

“Wanna try that again? In English this time?”

“You’d make a good himbo rock-star cat,” Nat said.

“Or a cat-burglar who’s too loud to burgle,” A.J. added.

He grinned at the confused look on Bren’s face and maneuvered through the cluster in front of the poster. Nat’s name was already there, right under Morgan Clark’s loopy signature in glittery gel pen. It took some effort to keep from signing Bren’s name after he’d written his own.

“You sure I can’t be, like, scenery or somethin’?”

A.J. tried not to let the twinge show on his face. “You don’t have to be on stage. Yu always needs more people in the crew.”

“Nope. Crew’s full. Bren’s gotta sing,” Yu said, snapping a picture as Bren took a swipe at him.

A.J. tried to fix his face so it looked like all his hopes and dreams weren’t riding on Bren’s decisions, but he wasn’t sure he managed it—he’d never been good at acting unless he had time to agonize over a script for a couple weeks first.

He must have been an even worse actor than he thought because after their eyes met, an exhausted smile pulled at the corner of Bren’s mouth. Yu’s camera clicked about a dozen times as Bren fished around in his pocket, pulled out a pen, and put down a barely legible Bren O’Shea right below A.J. Walker.

“You owe me for this one, Robolad,” Bren said, looking like he’d signed his life away, which he kind of had.

A.J. took advantage of the small swarm that milled around the sign-up sheet to get close enough to Bren that he barely had to move his lips to be heard.

“You know that door trick does still work, right?”

Bren looked shocked before a familiar smoulder settled in its place.

“Guess I’m gonna need to see the stage again if I’m gonna be singin’ on it, like.”

Nat looked like she was going to follow when they slipped through the crowd and back towards the music hallway, but she stopped at the look A.J. gave her—even if she did roll her eyes. The person who he’d been pre-Bren urged him to keep his mouth shut as they walked to the secluded staircase, but he wasn’t a match for his newer, more complete self.

He leaned close to Bren’s ear so he could catch the whisper above the noise of the hall.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to get you singing on the first try, but I’ll do my best.”

Bren was a horrible influence, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

9

“Someone’s up early.”

A.J. jumped as his mom’s voice rose above the radio he’d been listening to since he’d started on breakfast ten minutes ago.

“Sorry. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

She shook her head as she pulled up a seat at the table, her gradebook already open.

“I needed to finish up some grading since I didn’t get to it last night.”