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Chapter 1
Ali
“Areyounervous?”GeorgiaLipton asked me, her Southern twang making the words way longer than when I said them. The other girl was from—you guessed it—Georgia. When she’d first introduced herself to me three weeks before at the first-round auditions forSing Battle, she’d told me her name was like the state and the tea. She was strangely proud of how Southern it was.
I’d wondered what it was like to be proud of your name and heritage. My grandmother had named me Alison because my mother couldn’t be bothered to come up with a name.
“A little,” I admitted, twirling a long lock of my lavender hair around my finger. The first thing I’d done when I got to LA was make an appointment at an overpriced salon. I was pleased with how well the dye job was holding up. I’d always wanted to do something crazy with my hair, but it had been frowned upon in my conservative college music department.
“Oh gosh,” Georgia said, “me too. I’m glad I’m not the only one.”
If any of the other competitors had asked me, I would have lied. Of course, none of them would have bothered unless they were trying to intimidate me. Georgia didn’t have a malicious bone in her body, but a few of the others were certified mean girls. I hoped that once the finalists were announced, the remaining contestants would chill the eff out. I wanted to make it into the last lineup as much as anyone, but I would not act like an asshole because of it.
Talking about being nervous only made me more nervous. I gnawed on my fingernail then abruptly pulled it out of my mouth before I did too much damage.Sing Battlewas the number one music competition show in America, and I didn’t want to go on air with chewed nails.
That was if—if—I made it on the show. Though I’d admitted to Georgia that I was nervous, that was more for her benefit than mine. If my mother had taught me nothing else, it was how to judge my talents—and that of those around me—objectively. I was certainly talented enough to be on the show, but I also understood that talent might not be enough. The producers might be looking to fill some other unknown criteria.
I flopped back onto the hotel bed. UnlikeAmerican Idol, where the contestants were told right away if they made it to the next round,Sing Battlenotified the contestants privately by phone, which meant hours of pacing and resisting the temptation to chew my nails. Georgia and I had waited for our phone calls together after every round.
Though she was my competition, I couldn’t help but wish good things for her. Since she sang country and I mainly stuck to pop, we were a bit like apples and oranges. If we made it on the show, the judges would rate us on our technical skill, but our audience votes were likely to be from different demographics. We wouldn’t be competing head-to-head unless we both made it to the finals.
Georgia flopped down beside me. “The waiting is the worst!”
“In a way, it’s more humane,” I reasoned.
“Humane?” She laughed. “That makes it sound like the alternative is torturing puppies.”
“What I mean is that I don’t think I’d want to find out in a big group. Imagine how heartbreaking it would be to learn you didn’t make it, surrounded by your competition.” I pictured other prospective contestants celebrating while I slunk away with my tail between my legs.No thank you.The only thing worse would be getting sent packing on the live-results shows, which was why I planned to win the whole shebang.
“I’m pretty sure it’s heartbreaking no matter how it happens.”
“At least this way you can save face.” Another thing I’d learned from my mother was the importance of maintaining a dignified public persona. I could keep my shit in check, but I had my doubts about Georgia. The girl was an open book. Perhaps she wouldn’t care if she sobbed in public, but I would be humiliated.
Georgia flipped to her stomach. “I wish they hadn’t kept us separate from the guys.”
I frowned. “Yeah, that was weird.” Obviously, I had no idea what had happened behind the scenes in the previous seasons, but I could think of no logical explanation for them to divide us by gender as if we were on two different shows.
“I’m sure we’ll interact with them at some point, but I am single and ready to mingle.” She sat up and grinned. Shortly before coming to LA, she had ended her engagement to a man her parents had more or less picked out for her. Apparently, their breakup had caused quite the scandal. When she’d told me about it, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the arranged marriages in the antebellum South, like inGone with the Wind.
Her parents and former fiancé had agreed that Georgia could defer the marriage until after college. As a result, she’d earned two master’s degrees before mustering the courage to stand up to her parents. And since she’d popped the cork on her rebellion, she was ready to go hog wild—her words, not mine.
I understood the pressure of trying to conform to parental expectations and sympathized with her wanting to enjoy her newfound freedom. However, unlike Georgia, getting involved with a man right then was the last thing on my mind.Sing Battlewould require one hundred percent of my attention. I didn’t need a potential distraction.
“What do you think of Seraphina Starr for a stage name?” I asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “It sounds like a stage name. I don’t understand why you want one.”
That was a complicated story I didn’t want to get into, so I shrugged. “I’m just trying it on for size.”
“If I get famous—”
“When,” I corrected. “When you get famous.”
Her lips stretched into a broad smile. “When I get famous, I want everyone to know, right down to that girl who accidentally on purpose spilled Coke on my white dress at our debutante ball. If I change my name, she might not know it’s me.”
I eyed her skeptically. “If you can’t remember her name, what makes you think she’ll remember yours?”
Georgia sniffed. “Oh, I remember her name, bless her heart. I’m just too much of a lady to say it.”
