Kissing Ted Callahan (and Other Guys)(27)

We are ready.

We’re some of the first to arrive at the gym. Kids from the Edendale Spirit Club are setting up tables with punch and bottled water, while chaperones look on like the mere act of beverage setup and distribution is more than a bunch of overachieving teenagers can handle. I ignore them, even though I could go for some punch. I assume successful musicians don’t get distracted by a drink made for kindergarteners.

“Whoa!” Nathan skids into a slide as he carries over a mic stand. “Be careful, guys, the floor is really slick.”

“I’m fine.” I point to my boots, which aren’t just badass but tend to protect me from things like floor slickness.

“This is pretty cool, right?” Reid asks, like he knows it is, but also like he wants some props for getting us this gig. AGAIN. It’s weird how a guy can simultaneously have the best and worst self-esteem of anyone I know.

“It’s pretty cool,” Lucy says with a big smile. She’s wearing delicate blue flats that match her dress, and she also slides across the floor and crashes into Nathan. They laugh like all the fun in the world is shared between the two of them alone.

“Hi, everyone.” Ms. Matteson, who is the head chaperone for the dance, makes her way over to us. “Here’s how it’ll work. A DJ’s playing the first half, then you guys will play your set. Feel free to play an encore if it seems like you should. Got it?”

“Got it,” Nathan says in his Natural Leader way.

I’m too stuck on the idea of our school chanting encore, encore, encore, encore.

“Can we do a sound check now?”

“Of course, have at it. We’ll just want you to clear the area at eight when the dance officially begins.”

I sit down at my drums and wait for Ms. Matteson to walk off before counting off so we can play through “Tease.” The gym is not exactly an acoustical wonderland, but we make it work. Reid is blathering on, saying he’s nervous about everyone seeing us and judging us, so we’re back to that, and I pretend like I’m calm, even though by now of course this show is a big deal, and I wish I could guarantee it’ll be perfect.

After the sound check, we head out to a little room off the gym, where I imagine the basketball team gets pep talks before going out to play because people have written all this GO LIONS! graffiti over the walls. Backstage at a lot of concert venues it’s practically encouraged to sign your band’s name when you’re playing, but I resist.

We could probably attend the DJ’ed first part of the dance, but we’re treating this a lot like a real gig—I guess it is a real gig. So we hang out and go over our set list until Ms. Matteson summons us to the stage. I climb behind my drums, wait for Nathan to introduce us (he is best at it), and count off for “Tease.”

People are watching, or dancing, or nodding approvingly. There are of course some bored-looking seniors hanging around the punch bowl, but, whatever, the majority of the crowd is into it.

And they should be! Nathan and Lucy are nailing every single lyric, and even with the muddy gym acoustics, their guitars ring out bright and harmonious. Reid and I are lacing a rhythm that’s vibrating through the slick floor. Better yet, it’s not like it’s the two of them and the two of us: The Gold Diggers are all four of us, and it’s so good when I remember that.

For the first time in my own history I love absolutely everything about my high school, especially when I catch sight of someone between songs: good hair, a button-down shirt, nice pants, and Converse. Ted’s at the punch bowl. I’m not sure if he can see me too well, but I use my rock star energy to summon up the best smile I’ve given anyone.

And he smiles back.

“Garage” goes just as well, and then we’re on a roll, and everything is flowing. Lucy, Nathan, and Reid are moving around onstage with ease—yes, even Reid!—and I’m nearly jumping off of my stool with energy and excitement and, just, music.

After our Ted Leo cover and then “Longer Days” to close the set, we make a proper exit and crowd back into the little room that now feels too small to contain us. I don’t care about Lucy and Nathan’s relationship, and I don’t care that Reid and I are not huggers-of-one-another. Right now there is so much hugging and high-fiving going around between the four of us, you’d think something bigger than a great set at a high school formal just happened.

“Oh my god.” Lucy speaks in the kind of hushed whisper people use in church. “You guys, listen.”

There’s clapping and wooing and whistling. And it’s for us. They want an encore.

The energy is feeding us, and our two encore songs, “Figuring You Out” and “Going On,” have never sounded like this before. I know that a friend of Nathan’s is filming the set, and I’m so glad we’ll have proof this happened one magical night in a school gymnasium. I picture the footage rolling in our Behind the Music.

After the set is over we stick around onstage, drinking in the applause and attention and also because Ms. Matteson had told us as we walked out our equipment had to be off the stage by the time the dance technically ended.

“Hey, Riley,” Ted says from behind me.

I turn around and smile.

“Hey, Ted.” My face is still hot from adrenaline and stage lights and the general climate of the gym, and I can’t control the tidal wave of words smacking at the shores of my mouth. “I’m so glad you came, I know you’re not into dances, like, who is, ugh, dances, but—”