Page 1 of Roar Letter Word

ONE

ADDIE

There it was. The last song of the night.

The entire crowd was singing Addie Swanson’s words and singing them with her. And what a crowd it was. This was the last night of the tour for this fourth album, and the fans had come out. A lot of the room was the usual lonely, weird kids, but there were excited adults, families, and, of course, shifters of all kinds. That was something the record companies loved about Addie. As the magazines said, she was a human, but she made music that wasn’t just for humans.

There was a tiger shifter, a bird shifter, a deer shifter, and more dancing under the swirling lights of the arena. Some of them were in their human form, and others had gone fully animal in order to dance and feel the music. Everyone was moving to the same beat, whether they were from Earth, Nova Aurora, or wherever.

And the song they were all grooving to was about Addie’s heart being broken for the third album in a row.

Once, it had made her feel good that so many people from Earth and beyond related to her words and sadness. She must have really hit something. But then it happened again and again. Now, it just made her tired.

Even my heartbreak doesn’t get to be special,she thought.Everyone has to be able to relate to it, too.

“And that’s why I don’t want you back!” she sang into the mic. The last few moments of the song played, and she posed, doing her best to look more powerful than she felt.

“Thank you, New York!” she hollered as soon as the last chord from the guitar faded away. “You’ve been a wonderful audience! It’s so lonely to be here!”

Wait, those aren’t the right words,she realized.

“Lovely to be here! It’s lovely to be here!”

The audience seemed puzzled by this moment. Addie felt awkward, which she almost never did when she was in front of the crowd.

“Uh, anyway, thank you so much for all coming out tonight! I’m Addie Lonesome! I mean Swanson! Good night!”

She gave an awkward wave and just made it off the stage.

After a few moments of confusion, the crowd began to clap and call for an encore.

“Oh, sure,” she muttered. “I’ll just think of one more quick horrible way I’ve felt. Then I can sing about that.”

“Are you doing okay?” a male voice asked her.

It was Bruce Brandt, one of her managers. He was a decent guy, although he definitely came from the suit side of things. He did his best, but Addie could tell, at the end of the day, that he still saw everything in terms of dollar signs and merchandising.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Just a little tired from all these tours. Got some words mixed up out on the stage.”

“That’s okay,” Bruce said, patting her on the shoulder. “There’s no performance tomorrow. All you have to do is write that fifth album.”

“Oh, phew,” she muttered. “And here I was thinking that I had something to be stressed about.”

“You’re stressed about writing the new record?” asked Bruce, puzzled. “Don’t be. All you have to do is write something that’s similar enough to your old stuff that your audience loves it but different enough that no one thinks you’re stagnating. Also, I was thinking, what if you included a song about sharks?”

“Sharks?” Addie repeated.

“Sharks are doing really well in market research lately. Sixty-four percent of music listeners between the ages of twenty-one and thirty-four said that they would be more likely to listen to a song if it included a shark. That’s free market reach, baby.”

She nodded. “Sharks. Got it. Anything else I should consider including in the new album?”

“Yeah. People also apparently like songs that are catchy and make them see the world in new ways.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

She drank an entire plastic water bottle in one gulp and then started toward the door of her dressing room.

Bruce stopped her just as she was about to disappear.

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