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My phone chimed with a new text. They could wait.
“We’re going old school on this one.” The DJ must have some idea that his entire audience was only half-paying attention at this point. We weren’t the only ones whose brains were flying off the hook. “Playlists must be submitted on tape, CD, or some other physical media, and must be in a real case. Cover art must be created in a physical medium. Crayons, pencils, paint, film photography… Nothing digital. It doesn’t have to be pretty. We expect some stick figures.”
He went down a list of a few more highlights and wrapped things up with a URL for the official rules. “There it is, Heckians. Go forth and create, and we’ll announce the qualifiers next weekend. Same heckin’ time, same heckin’ station.”
“Yes.” I let out a whoop when the talking stopped and the music started. “Fucking. Epic.”
Onyx was grinning too.
Alys was looking at her phone. “It’s from Reese. To both of us.”
Reese was the lead singer in the band Alys and I played in. We weren’t big enough yet to be doing things like going on long tours or devoting our time to the band, but we were pretty good.
I grabbed my phone, and sure enough the text I’d ignored was from Reese. “It would be sweet if you named your fictional band Plaid Peanut Butter.” I read the message aloud.
“Could we?” Alys bit her bottom lip.
Because she didn’t want to tell Reese no.
“We’re always The Wonderland Crew.” Onyx didn’t need to remind us.
Or maybe he did.
Alys scowled in a way that meant she agreed, but didn’t look forward to passing that answer along.
That was fine with me. “I’ll tell her.” I was already typing. “PPB is a real band, they don’t need to be made up,” I said the same thing I was writing. “And we already have a team name.”
Reese: Had to try. Let us know what you need.
Easy peasy. No muss, no fuss. Though I did have an idea.
Me: Would love your permission to put Glass Slipper on the list of cover songs
Reese: Done.
Just like that. “Name sorted.” I set down my phone and gave Alys and Onyx my full attention. “What kind of music does our pretend band make?”
No one asked why that was the first decision. Everything else would ride on what genre we picked.
“Alt progressive,” Alys said.
Onyx shook his head. “Disco.”
Fuck no. “Classic rock.”
“I want to change my answer to new wave.” Now that the announcement was done, Onyx dug into his breakfast.
That looked good.
“Maybe punk?” Alys reached for my coffee, then stopped herself and grabbed her soda instead.
“Is that your new vote, or are you asking?” I kept a mental list as we talked, and started on my food as well.
“Depends.” Alys picked at her roll. “Are we actually listing genres we want, or are we just going to list them all in the next five minutes?”
“We could toss them all in a hat and pick one.” Onyx looked around the room. “Or a mixing bowl. I can grab one.”
We were not getting stuck with new age electronic opera because he wanted to be random. “Don’t think about this, just answer. What song is stuck in your head right now?”
