“Okay, no, you’re not getting it,” Teddy said, frustrated. “I can’t sing. Like, I really can’t sing. Once I was singing in the shower and Richard popped his head in and asked me to stop because he said I was so off-key, it was making it hard to study.”
Eleanor narrowed her eyes.
“I’m serious, you guys. When I sing, dogs howl. Glass shatters. Randy Jackson shows up and says, ‘That’s gonna be a no from me, dawg.’”
“Teddy!” Kirsten grabbed her shoulders. “That’s the absolute beauty of karaoke! You don’t have to be a good singer! In fact, it’s better if you aren’t. Everyone else kinda hates the great singers. Who are they showing off for?”
“We’re not good singers, either,” Eleanor said.
Kirsten lifted a shoulder and muttered, “Eh, speak for yourself.”
Eleanor gave Kirsten a quick side-eye and a laugh. “I mean, we are not classically trained. We’re not belting out the high notes on Mariah Carey songs. We just . . . have fun! If you pick a good song, and the vibe in the room is right, everyone starts singing along with you, and you look over that sea of faces, all of them singing the words right back to you. . . .”
“And it’s almost a religious experience,” Kirsten said. “Trust us. You’re gonna love it.”
This wasn’t scary. This was terrifying. Teddy had spent years hiding, metaphorically and kind of literally. And now she was supposed to put herself on an actual stage with a microphone? It was absurd.
Reading the hesitation on Teddy’s face, Kirsten asked, “What would Eleanor Roosevelt say if she walked in to this room right now?”
“Well,” Teddy said, “she’s dead, so probably not much.”
“In that case, what would zombie Eleanor Roosevelt say?” Kirsten raised her eyebrows.
“Something unintelligible about eating brains?” Teddy asked. “I don’t know. I don’t watch a lot of zombie movies.”
“Not the point!” Eleanor said. “The point is, you’re trying to do things that scare you. Nothing changes if you don’t make any changes! Dreams only work if you do! I have memorized all the posters in the teachers’ lounge and I won’t stop quoting them until you agree to go out with us!”
“She’ll keep doing this all night,” Kirsten said. “Come on, Teddy. Eleanor Roosevelt didn’t sacrifice herself so you could not go to karaoke.”
“How exactly do you think Eleanor Roosevelt died?” Teddy asked.
“TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK!” Eleanor shouted, surprising everyone, including herself. “Sorry. That was louder than I intended.”
Teddy bit her lip. She knew she had to do this. Not only because of the plan, and not only because the entire point of her life right now was to get out of her comfort zone even when (especially when!) it scared her.
No, she had to do this because Eleanor and Kirsten were asking. Because she’d blown them off for years, missing out on birthday parties, nights out, movie marathons, and late-night gossip sessions. She’d missed out on everything because she’d put her eggs in one Richard-shaped basket. They were inviting her, and so she had to go. She needed them to know that she was here now, all in on their friendship, ready to be around for the long haul.
“We’re not going to make you do this all alone,” Eleanor said. “We can do a song together. It will be fun!”
All three of them onstage together. Okay. She could do this.
Teddy smiled. “You’re right. It will be fun.”
Eleanor and Kirsten cheered for approximately one half second, then went off to find their purses and coats. It was almost like they’d known she’d agree to go.
“Ghost of Eleanor Roosevelt, give me strength,” Teddy muttered. And although she wasn’t remotely sure where that prayer was going, she did feel a sense of certainty and calm overtake her. Tonight was going to be a good night.
21
“You promised you’d go out next time,” Natalie said, standing in his kitchen. “Well, guess what, bro. It’s next time.”
Everett groaned. “But I actually meant the time after next time.”
Natalie shook her head. “Everett St. James, I swear to all that is holy, you are the worst friend in the world.”
Everett looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, once again surrounded by puppetry supplies and sketches. “Am I the worst friend in the world? Or am I kind of . . . the best?”
Natalie pretended to think about it. “Nope. The worst. All I ask is that you go out with me tonight, on the anniversary of the day we met and began this historic friendship . . .”
Everett sat up straighter. “It’s the anniversary of the day we met?”
Natalie gave him a slow smile. “I have no idea what day we met, Everett. I was trying to get your full attention and it worked.”
Everett slumped back down and focused on his sketches again. “Fuck you.”
Natalie cupped her hands around her mouth and said, “Booooo!”
“I have a lot of work to do,” Everett said, frowning at Natalie.
“You always have a lot of work to do. So does everyone else. But you know what’s good for that big ol’ creative brain knocking around in your head? Some downtime. Come to karaoke, sing “Islands in the Stream” with me, have a few drinks, and give your moneymakers a break.” She wiggled her hands in the air.
Everett looked at Natalie, at his puppet supplies, and at Natalie again.
“Come on. Spend the evening with your best friend and also her girlfriend and two of their friends.”
“Wait. I’m not the third wheel this time? I’m the fifth wheel?”
Natalie tilted her head. “I prefer to think of you as a spare tire.”
“Oh, my God,” Everett muttered.
“What? Spare tires are important! If you get a flat, you’re gonna wish you had one!”
“You know what? Fine,” Everett said, letting the paper in his hand fall to the floor as he stood up. “Let’s go. But only because I want to completely dominate karaoke and not because I care about your friendship at all.”
“I’ll take it!” Natalie said, grinning.
“Can’t believe this,” Everett said, sliding his wallet in his back pocket. “A spare tire.”
“You know, my bad for caring about your mental health,” Natalie said as she walked out the door. “Sorry I’m a good friend.”