But on stage, something strange was happening. While three of the band members seemed dull and boring, playing through the same-old chords and beats of a punk song, the drummer was extraordinary. He seemed to take full advantage of the entirety of the drums, whipping from one end to the other in a streamline. The other musicians couldn’t hold a candle to him.
To top that off, the drummer seemed a little bit younger than the others, perhaps nineteen or twenty. As far as Ella could tell, his arms and legs showed off no tattoos. He wore the slightest of beards, little more than a five o’clock shadow, and he wore a black t-shirt without any allegiance to any other bands. His hair was black, as were his eyes, and he seemed to hover above the rest of the crowd in that music venue. It was as though he already belonged in a better one.
When the band’s first song cut out, Ella lifted up on her tippy-toes and whispered in Stephanie’s ear. “That drummer is really good.”
Stephanie arched her brow. “You think?”
Again, Ella was flabbergasted that Stephanie hadn’t noticed. But before she could explain just what she felt about his drumming techniques, the band surged into another song, then another. Throughout, Ella was wrapped in a daydream of watching him work his magic.
About twenty minutes later, Chris burst through the stage to tell the girls that they were “up next.” Ella’s throat tightened with excitement. The three of them hustled backstage to collect their things and compose themselves. In the room where the concert was, the band with the incredible drummer cut out, and the crowd roared.
“They left the room with good energy,” Ella said, her confidence building. “I think we’ve got this.”
“Oh my gosh. I’m so nervous,” Brenda breathed.
But there wasn’t time to be nervous. Already, the band with the drummer entered backstage, flipping their sweaty curls and dropping their guitars back into their cases. The drummer arrived last and shoved his drumsticks into his back pocket. He spoke to his bandmates and said, “Does anyone know who’s up next?”
“Um. We are.” Ella heard herself volunteer this information with a quivering voice.
The drummer’s eyes dropped toward the three teenage girls in front of him. Ella’s instinct was that he would immediately burst out laughing at the absurdity of them. But instead, he gave her a firm nod and said, “Good luck out there. There’s a little bit of reverb. Be careful.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Ella returned. She then strutted out toward the stage with Brenda and Stephanie hot on her heels. She had to play the part of an arrogant rock star, even if she didn’t necessarily feel like one.That was the trick to everything, she thought.Just act the part.
Ella, Stephanie, and Brenda hadn’t played much more than a few Nantucket music festivals, a neighborhood association party, house parties for Nantucket locals, and a summer party that had gone south (namely because of an incident between Brenda and the guy she crushed on hard). Up on stage at The Toast, Ella’s fingers and toes sizzled with the intensity of the crowd’s noise.Could they actually do this? Had they actually practiced enough?
The crowd soon realized that the people on stage were teenage girls and quieted out of sheer curiosity. Ella knew they all expected them to have no talent and no stage presence. She was more than willing to prove them wrong.
“A-one. A-two. A-one, two, three!” Ella counted them off, and in a flash, they were off to the races on their first track. They were rock with a bit of indie flair and a decent amount of punk attitude. This brought Ella all over the stage as she howled and shredded her guitar, singing lyrics that she’d scribed in her bedroom during the most miserable year of her life— the year her father had been taken away.
The set lasted twenty-five minutes, longer than any they’d ever played. It was clear after the first song that they’d won the crowd over. By the time they finished, the crowd roared and screamed, calling out, “Yeah! Girls rock!” which sounded so silly and also so genuine in these strange moments. Ella was soaked with sweat, as were Stephanie and Brenda. Quickly, they met in the middle of the stage and shared a group hug before they gathered their things and hustled off.
Backstage, Ella drank two glasses of water and listened as Stephanie and Brenda geeked out about how good it had felt to be up there. The other guys in the room eyed them curiously, clearly impressed. In truth, Ella searched for just one person’s approval.
And very soon, he appeared.
The drummer from the band who’d performed before them flashed through the back door and appeared before her, his hair disheveled every which way. They stared at one another for a long, frozen moment as the rest of the people backstage buzzed around them.
Finally, he spoke. “You were insane up there.”
“Right back ‘atcha.”
His smile was crooked and endearing. As he took another step toward her, the sound of her heartbeat became a roar.
“I’m Will,” he told her.
“Hey. I’m Ella.” Did she sound cool? Like a cool “rock chick”? Or did she sound like a dumb teenage girl from Nantucket Island?
“Who taught you how to play like that?”
Ella laughed, surprised at the question. “I taught myself.”
Will snorted. “Gosh. Most of the guys in this place taught themselves as well. The only difference is, they suck, and you don’t.”
Ella refilled her glass of water, suddenly terrified that she would have nothing else to say after that. But before she could drum up another question or comment, Will asked, “Do you want to step outside with me? It’s so hot in this bar.”
Ella glanced toward Stephanie and Brenda, who were already fully aware of her conversation and gave her little, quick nods that told her they understood what she needed to do. Ella grabbed her coat and then followed Will back through the throng of concert-revelers and into the crisp October night. Out there, Will fumbled a cigarette from his pocket and told her that he really hated the habit. He planned to quit soon.
“Why don’t you just quit now?” Ella asked with a sly smile.