Page 36 of The Summer Ultimatum

Taking off my headphones, I ask, “What’s up, man?”

“You’re wanted on stage with the rest of the contestants. They made an announcement, but I don’t think you heard it.”

Standing to my feet, I shove my headphones in my backpack and shake off my nerves. Following him to where they need me, I focus on my inner monologue.

I repeatedly tell myself, I’m okay with whatever is about to happen. I may not make it to the next round, but this experience proves that music is important. It’s something I’ll continue no matter what happens in the next few minutes.

God, until this moment, I never knew how much I really wanted this. But maybe that’s a good thing. I didn’t have to stress over it either.

Chuckling at how absurd it was to take this so lightly, I step out onto the stage for perhaps my final time. I stand where a stagehand directs me, and I wait for others to be placed around me. The lights are off to keep the suspense, but I’m grateful because it means I can keep my thoughts to myself a while longer.

My nerves are so out of whack when the emcee starts by thanking everyone for being here once again. They mention something about our sponsors and what’s at stake for those who move on in the competition.

I tune it out because I just can’t process this information.

I can’t seem to make myself look at the other contestants or at the crowd in front of me. I choose to stare at a scuff mark at the front of the stage, so it doesn’t look like I’m stupidly staring at my feet. My stomach rolls, and my nerves take flight like a flock of seagulls finding a fry on the beach, as the emcee continues his explanation. I’m sure it’s good for the sake of the show, but the more he drones on, the more I just want to scream, “Tell us already.”

Finally, the lights dim, and the anticipation music begins.

My fucking nerves are a wreck. I’m not sure I can take any more of this.

“Now, for the first of the final five contestants moving on from tonight’s performance are…” He pauses for dramatic effects. “Monica Simms…” The crowd erupts, and a petite blonde a few people away from me bursts into tears.

I’m right there with you, sister. The anticipation is excruciating.

Once the crowd settles, the emcee continues, “The Fast Lane.”

This time, an alternative rock band jumps up and down with excitement. I didn’t listen to them perform, but from the way everyone cheers, they must’ve been good.

Of course, my logical side chooses this time to remind me that with each act selected, the chances of me making it get smaller.

I seriously didn’t know how much I wanted this… until tonight. I’d originally participated to prove to myself I could just get on stage and perform… but never had serious thoughts I would make it that far. These people around me are all tremendous talents. It’s an honor to be in this competition with them. But now that I’m on stage, awaiting results, I’ll admit I want it more than I realized.

“Edgewater…”

This is one of the acts Slone found and brought to the competition. The one the lead singer was hugging her when I found her this morning. I’m happy for them. They were really good.

Once the crowd has settled, the emcee announces, “Craving Spoons…”

An all-girl punk band from the other side of the stage bursts into screams, and they jump up and down with joy. It takes a while for everyone to calm down, and I wait on pins and needles to be put out of my misery.

Waiting—sucks—period. I can barely breathe when the crowd settles.

Finally, the announcer continues, “And last… but certainly not least… from right here in Seaside… our final contestant moving forward is none other than… Jax Cartwright.”

I don’t even process the words until the woman beside me reaches out and pulls me into a hug, screaming, “Congratulations!”

Holy shit… I made it….

Letting out a “Whoop,” I return the hug, then set her down, shaking hands and hugging those who congratulate me as they walk off stage.

We were told the ones moving forward in the competition are to remain on stage while the others exit. Shifting so that we’re closer to one another, the five remaining acts each congratulate one another for making it this far. I know it’s still a competition, but I genuinely am grateful to be here with them.

When I get to Trent, the lead singer of Edgewater, he grips my hand like a vise and pulls me in for a hug. “Our girl did it! She got us to the next level. Hot damn, we’re going on tour!”

“Holy shit… we are!” I say in disbelief. This is so fucking unbelievable! I still haven’t processed the ramifications of being selected.

Everything that happens after the announcement is a complete blur. We’re pushed through photographs, talking with VIP ticket holders, and congratulated by the judges.

---