Page 87 of For One Night Only

Before every set, the five of us used to stand in a circle and pass around gummy bears. The rules are simple: before you can eat one, you have to give a compliment to the person on your left—it was mostly just to hype one another up, but more than one argument had been resolved by a circle shout-out. It started before we even made it to the industry that first summer at camp, but we never missed it in the years we spent making music together.

The thing is, I always brought the candy. And when I realize I forgot, I really start to panic. I root through my bag, as if that shiny gold package will magically appear, and anxiety begins to blur my vision as I realize it’s in vain. I didn’t buy them.

If we miss this pre-show ritual, I don’t think I can go out there.

“I got you,” Keeley says, shoving a bag of Haribos into my shaky hands.

“Thank you,” I say, letting out a nervous laugh as some of the tension melts from my neck.

“I just…grabbed some as insurance when we went to get Carrie’s candy. Wouldn’t be right to skip band circle.” She says it casually, but if I know anything about Keeley, it’s that she’s just as superstitious as I am. I’ve never seen her play a Glitter Bats set without fresh aquamarine nail polish or the raw citrine pendant she wears on a cord around her neck, and she always takes time to run through the same rudiments on her drum pad before every sound check.

“You’re such a softie, Cunningham,” I say, trying to play it off like I didn’t drop the ball.

She rolls her eyes but yells, “Circle up!”

Riker and Jane come over, and Valerie materializes at my other side.

“I can’t believe it’s happening!” Jane shrieks, clapping her hands and pressing them to her lips with barely contained excitement. “Can I start?”

I offer her the bag cupped in two hands, like it’s a precious gift. She beams, the golden bronzer on her cheeks shimmering in the light, looking almost angelic with her gauzy cream dress. Keeley’s eyes go wide as she realizes she’s in the hot seat.

“Keeley,” Jane starts. “You are the best drummer I’ve ever worked with. You’re responsive and dynamic, and you multitask well enough to sing effortlessly on top of everything. You never miss a beat on- or offstage, and I’m constantly in awe of you.”

Almost reverently, Jane pulls out a gummy and hands the bag over to Keeley, whose cheeks have flushed bright red. Keeley turns to Riker, toying with one of the buttons on her denim vest with her free hand.

“Riker,” Keeley croons. “Despite your terrible taste in booze, you are one of the best people and collaborators I know. The way you anticipate our needs onstage is unmatched, and it’s one of the reasons the Glitter Bats have alwaysworked. You’re the glue.”

“Aww, you’re too nice,” Riker wraps an arm around Keeley’s shoulders and squeezes quickly as she passes him the bag.

Riker grins, turning to his left. “Valerie! You never stop fighting for what you want, and it’s a marvel. I wish I had your drive. I’m so glad you brought us all together this summer, because I’m proud to make music with you and call you my friend.” Valerie reaches an arm up and boops Riker on the nose. He laughs, popping three gummy bears into his mouth before passing the bag along.

“Caleb Sloane.” Valerie pulls out a gummy, then locks her eyes on mine with a smirk, and my neck warms. “This summer reminded me how great it is to work next to you. Thank you for letting me drag you out here. You’re my favorite person. I can’t imagine doing this music thing without you, and I hope today isn’t an ending, but a new beginning.” She kisses my cheek and hands me the bag, and I try to ignore the way my heart races with nerves.

This is it. I turn to Jane, who is tearing up. Even as my pulse rings in my ears, it’s easy to compliment Jane. She really is the best of us. “Jane, you have taken this industry by storm, and it’s been an honor to watch you grow into such a powerhouse. I’m impressed that you even had time for this reunion, but we couldn’t have done this without you laying it down on keys.”

She beams at me. As soon as I eat my own gummy bear, we’re ushered to places by our tech crew. Usually, the pre-show ritual grounds me, but today, I’m still panicking.

This is our chance. I can’t let the band down. I can’t letValeriedown.

I’ve always been anxious, and then I left the industry. After all this time away, the pressure of one last performance is crushing, and even the most perfect schedule of taking my meds regularly can’t fix that entirely. But I have to work through it. While I plug in, I go through the square breathing exercise I practiced with my therapist. I try it ten times for good measure. When that doesn’tcalm me down, I try my 5-4-3-2-1 coping technique, but I lose count ofthings I seeas I stare at a chip in the black polish Keeley painted onto my nails this afternoon.

My hands are still shaking until I grab my bass—and then something snaps into focus, like the crack of a light stick in the crowd. I’m buzzing with the glow. Why am I trying all these techniques to control my brain when the music is my light in the darkness?

The Bianca Martin hit pulsing through the speakers goes quiet. The lights go down. A fog machine turns on, slowly filling the stage. There’s a sharp, collective gasp, followed by screams and cheers.

It’s time. We’ve practiced every piece of this set a dozen times, down to the minute, as if rehearsing a play, so we know our routes to each of our places by heart. We line up by the stage door.

First, Keeley steps out, ascending the drum platform to a thunderous roar of cheers. The spotlight shines right on her.

“How y’all doing tonight?” she asks into her mic. I can’t see her from this angle, but I know she’s shamelessly flirting with the audience, smirking and winking and strutting before she takes her seat. It’s her way, and the fans love it.

Jane is next, traveling to her keyboard setup on stage left, and through the fog I see her wave to the crowd. Riker follows his own path to stage right, and he whoops into his mic after he plugs his guitar in.

Then it’s our turn. Hand in hand, Valerie and I walk out onto the stage following the glow-in-the-dark tape set out by our crew. The rule is to never stare into the spotlight, but I can’t help but squint and look out at the crowd. It’s a sea of faces, mostly silhouetted against the stage lights, but I catch a few sparkling signs as we pass by.

The Glitterbugs are in full form tonight.

We plug into our respective cables, then turn to face the audience.

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