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Untapped Potential had a pretty active social media page, one I followed almost on a religious level. A new post would upload to their page at least once a day, sometimes a song lyric, sometimes an old pic of one of their gigs. And with each post, their viewership grew.
I always wondered who managed the page. Vincent, tall and broody, wouldn’t be posting so frequently. So that left Natasha or Harry. Monday morning, when I checked their page before the first bell rang, I hoped it was Harry.
Untapped Potential Status Update:
Trying out a new song this week—lyrics are coming together. “Life is like a strobe light, bright and blinding. Come find me on the dance floor.” Swing by Crushed Beanz over in Hallow Friday night to hear it for the first time.
I read the post over and over, wanting it to mean something more, wanting it to have any connection at all to this past Saturday night.
“So, you dirty-danced with Harry Hotpants, huh?” Margot asked, peering up from the sketchbook in front of her. She carried her book everywhere, always designing new fashion pieces in it. Her goal after high school was attending an institute for fashion, and she’d been working on bulking up her portfolio for years. “Did you kiss him?”
“No!” I hissed, whirling around to make sure no one overheard. “Besides, we weren’t…dirty dancing. We were only dancing.” Very, very closely.
“Right.” It was clear from her tone she didn’t believe me, looking back down to her book. The fashion-style art was starting to take shape as she drew her pencil along the hips of a figure, illustrating a loose sketch of a dress. “I still can’t believe you ditched him on the dance floor.”
I bit down on my lower lip, picturing Harry at Downtown, his tousled hair and his half smile. That flirty banter still flickered like a flash of heat to my veins, summer sun on frozen snow. I replayed it over and over in my mind, if only to relive how I felt hearing it for the first time. “I only left for five minutes, and when I came back, he found someone new to flirt with.”
Margot raised an eyebrow. “That just means you needed to flirt backharder.”
I had no confidence in myself now, no trace of Stella in sight. “It probably wouldn’t have worked out,” I said finally, deflating with the flood of thoughts. “Can you imagine how awkward it’d be if I had to explain the whole Stella thing to him?”
Margot shook her head as the bell rang. “It’s weird that you talk about Stella as if you aren’t her, dude.”
“We’re different.” I couldn’t explain just how a wig changed my perspective on things so easily. Heck, it barely made sense to me. “It would be messy.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re chicken.” Margot’s voice was firm, but not mean. Her pencil still worked steadily.
I opened my mouth to argue, but a distinct voice beat me to it. “Miss Brighton, Miss Massey,” Professor Bordeaux called at the front of the class, and both of our eyes snapped up. His cheeks were pink with frustration. “Would it be all right if I started today’s lesson?”
Margot swept her hand in front of her. “The floor’s all yours.”
Professor Bordeaux didn’t get that her words were sarcastic; he simply turned around and started pointing at the board.
Even though I tried, my mind wasn’t focusing on anything he said.
Not for the first time, I wished I could be Stella around the clock. Stella never had to worry about parents or scholarships. Why couldn’t my life be like hers all the time? Because even though Harry danced with her, he wouldn’t have danced with me. Guys like Harry would have a type, wouldn’t they? And if he was attracted to Stella, in all her tattered and dark-apparel glory, he wouldn’t like Destelle, who wore varying shades of pink and $300 jackets. If Harry knew Stella wasn’t reallyme, would he run for the hills?
With a soft sigh, I rested my head on my hand, and despite reading the tease of those new lyrics, I felt more weighed down than I had earlier this morning.
The week passed slowly, each day a sluggish sort of torture. Wake up. Go to school. Do whatever volunteer job Mom scheduled for my day. Homework. Sleep. Repeat.
This week, she had me shovel the snow from Mr. Teeter’s driveway, vacuum Ms. Lesher’s house, and even babysit my siblings. It took forever for Friday to roll back around, and when it finally did, I was so ready for it.
Mostly because I couldn’t wait to hear that new Untapped Potential song. I already had the lyrics they’d shared memorized.Life is like a strobe light, bright and blinding. Come find me on the dance floor.
Would it be fast-paced enough to make me rock my head with the beat? Or would it be acoustic, a lulling sound that made my chest ache? Despite the fact that things didn’t work out between Harry and me, I needed to find out.
I arrived early, but even with a ten-minute buffer, cars had filled every space in the Crushed Beanz parking lot. I had to park out on the employee side. At an Olympic pace, I changed into Stella, then quickly reached into the driver’s side door for my wallet. With a pat to my coat pocket, double-checking I had my keys, I pressed the automatic lock on the side of the door.
New Untapped Potential song? I wassoready for you.
And it seemed like everyone in Fenton County was as well. The packed parking lot had been no joke; people filled Crushed Beanz to the brim.
“Big crowd,” I said to Jonathan as I got in line for a cup of coffee. He was working on making a coffee for a boy in front of me, who glanced back at the stage frequently as if he were afraid of missing the band. “I don’t think I’ve seen so many people here before.”
“It’s a lot,” Jonathan agreed as he worked, meeting my eyes briefly. “Almost need to hire a bouncer to keep track of numbers.”
“You’d have to start charging for entry for that.” I looked over my shoulder too, eyeing the crowd. Spotting the booth that Addy and I usually sat in was impossible, but I hoped she claimed it. For tonight’s show, I wanted a front-row seat.
