The Summit

He stepped out onto the stage and a light lit up inside him, pulsating throughout his entire being before settling somewhere deep inside his heart. This stage was his moment and his body tingled with the anticipation to perform. Closing his eyes, he could feel the heat of the stage lights kiss his skin and welcome him into their warm embrace, whispering to him that he was home. Somewhere to his left, he could hear his bassist silently slide his fingers over the strings. To his right, his guitarist shuffled from foot to foot in an attempt to expel last minute jitters. And, finally, behind him was the drummer who was softly tapping out rhythms with his fingers. They were ready.

Their band name was announced. Evan opened his eyes and reality dug its claws right into his heart. He no longer felt the warmth of the stage lights. They were never there in the first place. Instead they were replaced by the overhead lights of the church he was able to book last minute. Before him, he could see his mom sitting in the front row, wiggling in her seat excitedly, camera in hand and prepared to record this disappointment. Three rows back was his neighbor and her infant who kept crying. Standing at the entrance, with the face of a person who would rather the world swallow them whole, was the building’s janitor. Beside him the guitarist coughed into his hand and kept his eyes glued to the floor. Evan chuckled awkwardly into the microphone and tried to swallow his disappointment.

“Hello, we are The Summit and we’re excited to play for you today!” Evan turned to his drummer hastily and gave him the signal to count them in. He gripped the mic and took a deep breath and sang.

Out of all the performances they had done, surprisingly, this wasn’t the worst one. No, the worst one had to be in the basement of a school where the only ones to watch it were the cobwebs and mice. So, really, this wasn’t all that bad. And maybe the wailing baby threw them off their rhythm, but what mattered was that they stuck it out. Right? It couldn’t have been that terrible.

The silence was thick and heavy with words left unsaid as the group sulked inside the burger joint they had hidden in to lick their wounds. Evan took an excessive bite out of his burger, a sour look on his face. Hearing an intake of breath, his eyes slid over to the drummer who looked like he was about to say something. “Let’s not talk about it, Tom.” Evan huffed.

Tom blew out a breath and slumped into his seat. “We’re going to have to address it eventually.”

“Yeah, eventually. Not now.” Evan retorted, shoving some fries into his mouth.

A clearing of the throat brought his attention to Chris, their guitarist, who hadn’t eaten a single thing off his plate since they arrived. His twin was stealthily stealing fries from him. Chris twirled the straw in his glass and kept his eyes to the table. “I thought you said that more people were going to show up?” He spoke quietly. His twin stole another fry.

Evan groaned into his hands. “That’s what they told me. Apparently they got the schedules mixed up and set us up on the wrong day, and it was already too late. I spent the last of what I had to book that venue.”

“No offense dude, but you’re kind of terrible at this.” said the bassist.

Chris gasped and flicked his twin hard on the arm to reprimand him. “Connor!”

Tom ate his burger contemplatively with a far off look in his eyes. His fingers twitched and he reached into his bag and pulled out his small, black notebook. No one in the band knew why he carried the book around, the contents within it were off limits. Tom was so aggressively adamant about the book’s secrecy that the rest of the band felt like they would catch on fire just from glancing at it. However, they speculated that some of his best songs resided within those pages. Evan watched as Tom flipped to a random page and started to carefully write. Connor leaned across the table to try and peak at what Tom was writing, and Evan could see the color drain from Chris’ face, wondering if he had some sort of death wish. “Why are you always writing in that diary?” Connor questioned, tilting his head for a better look.

Tom snapped the book shut and shoved Connor’s face away, his eyes flashing dangerously. “It’s not a diary.” He grumbled as he put it back into his bag. Connor sat back into his seat and rubbed at his sore cheek.

“It’s a diary.” He laughed as Tom tried to swipe at him from across the table, hissing under his breath that it was Journal, not a diary. Chris shifted nervously and looked at Evan and opened and closed his mouth a few times. Finally he settled his shaky hands on his lap and took a deep breath. “Do you think it’s time we stop doing this?”

The group paused to look at Chris, and Evan felt something cold creep into his bones. “What do you mean?” He asked in a low voice.

“It’s just that all of our shows have been failures. I’m starting to wonder why we’re even trying.” Chris continued quietly but ducked his head when he saw the hurt look on Evan’s face. “Sorry…”

Evan leaned back into his seat and let out a slow breath. This band was everything to him. Music had been a part of his life from the moment he learned how to talk. Even as a child he knew he wanted to make it big in the music industry. He almost couldn’t believe that there were other kids in his high school that had similar dreams as well. They had formed the band while passions were still high and dreams were still big. He had thought the others felt the same. The failed gigs did wound him, there was no point in lying about that. However, the thought of standing on a stage in front of thousands of people...it filled him with light. Maybe that wasn’t a shared dream.

“Chris is right. This isn’t a stable career for us. We should look into something that’s more realistic.” Tom said gruffly.

Evan sat up straight and turned to stare wide eyed at his drummer. “Are you saying we should break up the band?” The twins shifted uncomfortably, and even Connor’s demeanor had changed from its usual playful attitude to something bitter. Evan shook his head. “I won’t let us give up on this.”

Tom's face burned red with irritation and he squared his shoulders defensively. Evan interrupted him before he got the chance to argue, abruptly standing up and shoving on his coat. “We should take some time to think about this. I’ll see you guys at practice on Sunday!” He secured a smile that was too bright and toothy and left the restaurant before anyone could get a word in. Hopping on his bike and heading home, he hung his head low to keep the sting from the tears at bay. The thought of outgrowing his band was something unimaginable, a far off worry that existed outside the realm of his mind. The thought was there nonetheless, lurking in the shadows and waiting to pounce. He almost misses those days in high school, when they were naive and wide eyed and played for the sake of playing. It was fun back then. Somewhere down the line that light had dimmed until it was close to fizzling out.

He carelessly set his bike on the side of the house and slammed the door behind him. His mom appeared around the corner and smiled wide when she saw him, holding out a cupcake with a single candle stuck through the middle of it. “Congratulations on the performance. You guys sounded good!”

Evan blinked and screwed his mouth in an ugly scowl and felt a knot form deep in his gut. That performance was an embarrassment and was not worthy of praise of any kind. But here his mom was, still supporting him as if his dreams weren’t crumbling from right beneath him. He offered her a small, thin lipped smile, putting a hand on her shoulder and heading straight for his room. She couldn’t have known about what he was going through. What the band was going through, and yet…

And yet..

“It still hurts…” it came as a whisper that only the walls of his room heard.

He curled into the soft, welcoming comfort of his covers and decided to scroll through his social media before bed. And after an hour or two of aimless scrolling and seeing the same selfies and models, he heaved a sigh and was about to call it a night. Suddenly a colorful ad exploded on the screen of his phone, blasting upbeat music through the speakers. Evan startled and rushed to turn it down. Heart racing, he watched the ad play through and sprung to his feet when he realized what it was advertising. The town he lived in was small but was widely known for the local music competition it held each year. The Zone was a huge competition and most of the musicians that played often went on to do bigger things. His eyes bulged out of his head when he saw that the winners of the contest would take home a whopping $20,000 and a slot on the local radio. It was almost too good to be true. And then something inside him lit up. That night, in the darkness of his room, the beginnings of an idea started to form within him and a window of opportunity was slowly opening.

The Summit would enter the competition. It was perfect. The venue was already picked and guaranteed to have a large crowd, so he didn’t have to worry about the turnout. And if they won, not only would they have the money to support them, but they would get to broadcast their music. Maybe it would take an arm and a leg to convince his bandmates, but he had to try. They had a month until the competition and they would have to work hard to get there. However, this was his chance. If he didn’t take a leap of faith and try, he’d spend the rest of his life regretting that they could’ve had something incredible. They’ve been climbing this mountain since high school, and so many times they’ve stumbled on loose footholds. But for the first time since they began, Evan could almost see the summit.