Lucky Caller(62)

We were in this together.

We had readied the stage—three folding chairs sat in front of what must have been the opening backdrop for the middle school play, showing a row of buildings painted pretty realistically in shades of gray and brown. A projector screen had been brought down in front, partially obscuring it. Dan had given us a PowerPoint full of pictures he found from his summer with Existential Dead, and we gave it to Mr. Tucker to give to AV, so they could project it during the interview.

Dan was wearing a button-down shirt and slacks. No jacket, because I thought I’d keep it a little more rock and roll, he had said with a grin. I had tried to grin back.

The buzz in the auditorium was getting louder. I checked the time—ten till seven.

“Ah,” Dan said suddenly. “I’ve gotta go grab one more thing from the car. I’ll be right back.”

He headed through the black door in the back marked EXIT, and as he passed through, someone appeared on the other side.

“Thank you very much,” Dan said to the guy holding the door.

“Oh, hey,” the guy said as Dan passed through. “Are you, uh, in charge of this thing?”

“Folks in charge are right through there,” Dan said.

“Thanks, man.”

Dan disappeared, and then the person—two people, actually—entered the backstage area.

“Hi,” the first guy said. He was probably in his late twenties, with close-cropped hair and black sunglasses hooked into the collar of his shirt. “I’m Chris Brewer, I’m looking for—”

“Holy shit,” the guy next to him said. “That was Mr. Paint.”

“What?”

“That dude, that was Mr. Paint! The YouTube guy! Didn’t you—”

If he continued to speak, I didn’t register it. Everything went to white noise, because standing next to the apparent Chris Brewer—standing there in front of us—simultaneously existing with us—was Lucas.

As in the Lucas. Lucas from TION.

He was a miracle. He was a figment of our collective imagination that we conjured into existence out of sheer need.

I was instantly struck by how young he looked. I knew from Sasha that he was only a little bit older than Rose. But it wasn’t just that—it was how normal he looked. He was wearing normal jeans and sneakers and a T-shirt, he had on a normal baseball cap. Nothing about him screamed multimillionaire. Nothing said FAMOUS PERSON PRESENT. When he smiled, his teeth were very shiny and almost unnaturally straight, but other than that, he looked like any number of guys from Rose’s class, golden seniors now graduated, coming back to watch a football game in a brand-new college sweatshirt.

Chris’s voice filtered back through.

“—looking for a place to watch that’s a bit discreet, maybe here backstage, or if you have a light booth that’s easily accessible—”

Lucas ignored Chris, just as we were all ignoring Chris. “Is Mr. Paint the mystery guest?” he asked.

We all just stared, openly stared, at the TION member voted “Most Likely to Treat You Right (And We Mean Allllll the Ways)” by TeenStar.com.

My mouth had completely dried out. It was barely a word when I got it out: “You’re…”

“Lucas,” he said. “Lucas Kirk. This is my friend Chris.”

“Future manager,” Chris clarified with a grin.

“What are you doing here?” Sasha said. I had never heard her voice so high.

It was Joydeep who got it together first. It was like a flip switched inside him. An easy smile broke out on his face, and he crossed over to Lucas and Chris with a hand extended. “Hey, I’m Joydeep. We’re the Sounds of the Nineties team, we’re the ones putting on this event tonight.”

“It’s great,” Lucas said, shaking his hand enthusiastically. “We never had anything like this at my school. But my school wasn’t anything like … I mean, this place is huge. You really have your own radio station?”

“What are you doing here?” Sasha asked again, more urgently, her voice impossibly higher.

Lucas glanced at Chris, looking embarrassed. “I came to see Tyler Bright.”

“Seriously?” Joydeep said.

Chris shook his head, exasperated. “I told him it was a long shot. Basically a no-go. Yet he of all people is willing to believe online chatter from some fan accounts.”

“I know it’s just a rumor. But I was in Westfield visiting some family, and I knew if there was even a chance it’s true, I couldn’t pass up that kind of opportunity,” Lucas said.

“You’re a Deadnought?” Jamie asked.

“I’m, like, the Deadnought,” he replied with a grin. “Velvet Flycatcher changed my life. Tyler Bright is a legend.” He gave a quick look around. “We were hoping we could watch from backstage?”

The door swung open again, and Mr. Tucker came in.

“Hey, team? Crowd is pretty much seated, we should probably—” He paused when he caught sight of Lucas.

Mr. Tucker’s eyes widened. “Hey, you’re—I know you. My little girl loves you. You’re Blondie!”

“Uh…” Lucas looked a little bewildered.

“No, I know that’s not right. But my wife, she’s got names for all of you!”