Page 98 of Dear Rockstar (Dear Rockstar 1)

“Ridiculous.” I scoffed, coming over and putting my arms around her from behind and resting my chin on her shoulder. “Besides every bride is beautiful. It’s like newborn babies or puppies. They can’t help it.”

“I hope so.” She met my eyes in the mirror and smiled. “Because Matt asked me to marry him.”

“What?” I turned her around to face me, hands on her shoulders, my mouth hanging open. “You’re kidding me? Right? You’re…?”

She pulled off one of her white lace Madonna gloves, showing me her left hand. There was a ring on it. It wasn’t huge, but it was a diamond.

“How did he afford this?” I gasped, grabbing her hand and staring at it.

“He’s making pretty good money working for his dad,” Aimee explained. “Once he gets his CPA, he’ll be a full-fledged accountant. He’s the only one of the boys interested in the family business… Did you hear me? I’m getting married!”

We both looked at each other and screamed, squealing and hugging and laughing and jumping up and down like three-year-olds until two girls came in to use the bathroom and looked at us like we were crazy.

“That means you and Carrie are going to be sisters?” I blinked at her. “How weird is that?”

“I know.” She laughed. “Carrie said the same thing.”

“She knows?”

“Matt proposed at the rehearsal dinner.”

My jaw dropped again. “Wow.”

“I was embarrassed—I thought it was kind of mean, to steal Leslie’s day, but I guess he’d been planning it. They all knew about it and wanted him to.”

“His parents are okay with it? I mean… you’ve been dating, what, six months?”

She blinked at me. “As long as you’ve been dating Dale.”

“Well yeah… but I’m not marrying him.”

“Yet.” She grinned.

“Come on, I think he’s next.” I grabbed her hand as we hurried back out into the club, where it was so dark, smoky and loud no one could hear themselves think—which was probably the point.

“I thought you’d drowned.” Matt winked at me as we slid back into our seats at the table. The lead singer of the band on stage was a Flock of Seagulls wannabe and his mohawk was just a flash of white over the crowd.

“He’s up next!” Wendy had to practically yell to be heard. Carrie was on the other side of her.

“Is he any good?” Matt draped his arm casually across Aimee’s shoulders. I’d forgotten he hadn’t seen Black Diamond performing in the mall the day we’d met up with them, before the movies, and he’d missed the first auditions, the qualifying round for today—the semi-finals.

“He’s amazing.” Aimee pointed toward the stage where Black Diamond was setting up their equipment.

“He’s going to win,” I said, but I don’t think anyone heard me.

Dale was up there, looking like a god in his jeans and t-shirt and combat boots, head bent as he tuned his guitar and plugged it into his new amp. The band was setting up too, his bass player, Terry, leaning over to say something to him. Terry didn’t like me. None of them did. They thought I was too much of a distraction, and they were probably right.

I felt a little sorry for the other guys in the band. They could play—the music sounded good, mostly because Dale was a harsh taskmaster, forcing them to practice every single day—but no one ever noticed them. It was terrible, but I couldn’t even remember the drummer’s name. He was a big bear of a guy, full beard, wore a headband and only a tank-top when they played, and I just thought of him as “Bear.” Their lead guitarist, Rick, was a Dale wannabe, but nowhere near as enigmatic. I think he was the only one who really resented the way Dale stood out and the rest of them faded into the background simply because he was on stage.

I think the rest of them knew they were superfluous, but kind of like Ringo had once said about the Beatles, they were just happy to be there, part of something greater than themselves.

And they were great. Not only were they great, they were ready. I’d heard them play just two nights ago in the academy auditorium, where they held our all-school assemblies, and had been blown away by how good they sounded.

But I was still nervous.

There were cameras here from MTV, although this part of the Battle of the Bands wouldn’t be televised. They were just gathering footage in case any of these bands happened to make it to the finals.

“Sara, don’t bite your nails,” Aimee said, looking up.

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