The Beginning? Not!

 The first book of Surviving Sixth Grade is OUT NOW! Read below.

1. Who am I, Exactly?

Hi. My name’s Trevor. Trevor Sanders, basically. I live in New York with my mom and little sister, Angela.

Okay, hold up! This is not your typical eleven-year-old. I like to dance, sing, play dodgeball, and do peer counselling. Yep. 

Now, the question arises, why do I like all the stuff above that are meant for other people? Good question!

It’s because I’m different. I don’t need to be your average kid. Like all the other kids out there.

But this is my story, and if you’re a person who appeals to being the same, you better hold on.

This ride is about to get topsy-turvy. 

2. My Life

I live a happy life. Mom is a lawyer at day, and a freelance writer at night. She works in the court of NYC, and comes home sweaty, takes a deep breath, cooks dinner for us, then takes a nap, and finally starts working on her blog.

Angela’s two years younger than me. She doesn’t play the role of annoying li’l sis. Nope. It’s completely the opposite.

Ever since she was born, we had fun with each other. Even when she started having friends, Angela and I never drifted apart. Mom says we have an invisible rope that never goes taut anytime. She says we’re both connected by that rope.

I taught Angela to sing and dance, and even do stunts. Trust me, she’s awesome.

She’s pretty, of course, no doubt. Blond hair, brown eyes, sweet smile. She’s a younger version of Mom. 

Once, Angela came to me while I was doing homework. “Hi. Are you busy?”

I put my pencil down and smiled. “Not at all. C’mere.”

I picked her up and sat her on my lap. Then, holding her with my left hand, I took my pencil again and continued writing.

“What are you doing?” 

“Percentage.”

“What’s percentage?”

“Oh, it’s a number out of a hundred. When it’s like that, you add this sign.”

I drew a percent symbol next to my sum. 
“Why don’t you write it in decimals?”

That’s her. Smart kid. She hadn’t learnt decimals yet, but she always knew something by looking at my homework. I clutched her tighter and smiled. She was the best.

3. Jr. Pop

This part may probably be the biggest point of my whole story after this part. And I might as well tell you all about it.

When I was seven, Mom introduced me to this band called the Jr. Pop Kids. She said me and Angela would have to start listening to music, as she thought we could be a bit more flexible. Kids were in the band, no older than eleven or twelve. 

Ever since that day, both of us enjoyed listening to them. Mom saw our interest and she even took us to their concerts in New York. She said anyone could enter for the band and be a Jr. Pop Kid. And I was interested.

For those four years, I collected trivia about the band, the company who made the band, and even souvenirs. We had most of their album discs, a few tees with the logo and even some autographed photos.

But I wanted to be part of that band.

I practiced dancing and singing. Instead of buying supplies, I used materials around the house, and played dance along videos of Jr. Pop on YouTube.

Angela soon got into the spirit, and we were both jamming to them.

I dressed like the Jr. Pop Kids, tried to imitate their voices, everything.

But people did not know much about them. Bummer. If they did, everyone would know the thing about kid power. 

I didn’t have many friends, and neither did Angie. (That’s Angela’s nickname.) But I wasn’t alone, spending time with her. Mom suggested though, that I make some.

However, I never did. I just cared too much about Angela.

4. Cityscape

The first day of middle school.

The hardest day of your life.

The time you fear.

Okay, those descriptions above are the worst.

Middle school is actually cool. Like how I found out today.

I needed to join the prestigious Cityscape Middle School, which is only a ten-minute walk from home. Angie’s school was also next to it, which made it what she called ‘a double miracle’.

“How is it a double miracle?” I asked her as we walked to our schools.

Angela shrugged. “Look, Trev, it’s a double miracle because you don’t need to worry about me because my school is right next to yours, and we can get home easily and Mom doesn’t need to drop any one of us home, or drive us to school. Besides, you and I studied there.”

I nodded. “Well, you got good reasons. Now hold tight. You have a nasty habit of fluttering around to wherever you want.”

She rolled her eyes, but I detected a smirk, too. Maybe she was a bit annoying. Nobody can be perfect. 

Angie took my hand and led the way for once. When we reached the tall glass building that was supposed to be Cityscape, she left, waving goodbye. 

5. Wylie and Elijah

I stepped inside, and was swallowed by this whole oblivion of kids going to their classes or hanging around their lockers. It was a huge crowd in a huge place. 

I looked at the three sheets that I was given the day before. The first sheet was my schedule: whose homeroom I was in, which classes I needed to go to, and what I should do at the end of the day.

Sheet Number Two showed all of my personal details I had to deposit to my homeroom teacher. Name, age, grade, which club I was in (which was, by the way, none; I hadn’t signed up yet), phone number, and the like. 

The third sheet was a map, to get in and around the school. It was a big school, I realised, and this might come in handy. However, it didn’t show me where my locker was, in case I needed shortcuts from one class and back to it. Bad news. 

I saw a girl about my age, standing near the water fountains, holding a similar map. She must be confused too, I thought. 

The girl caught me looking at her, then walked towards me, pushing a blond strand of hair out of her blue eyes. 

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” I said.

“You don’t see your locker number?”

“No. You?”

She sighed. “Me neither.”

“What’s yours?” I asked.

“279. Yours?”

“I’m 280.”

“Cool.”

Attempt at small talk. Way to go, Trevor.

“Ummm,” The girl stopped before walking away. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh,” I said, “I’m Trevor. Yours?”

“Wylie. I guess I’ll see you around.”

The girl left. I breathed a sigh of relief. Speaking with other people I didn’t know was overwhelming. And odd for a new student like me.

I looked for someone else to ask directions for. But all I saw was a fair-faced boy with blond hair curled up on his head.

“E-excuse me?” I asked.

The boy looked up. “Hello. Any help needed?”

“Yes,” I said nervously, “I wanted to know where are the locker numbers 270-280 located. Uh, before that—do you study here?” I didn’t want to bump into another new sixth grader.

The boy ran a hand through his hair. “I’m new here too. But thankfully, I memorised the map. Now I might not need it. Took me a while to find my own locker, though.”

I nodded slowly. “O-kay.”

“Luckily, I’m next to bumbling locker 281. You are probably this way forward,” he said, pointing right from his place. 

I glanced at a locker numbered 280. Right next to the blond boy. I tapped it. 

“I’m right here.”

The boy bobbed his head up and down. “Ah, I see.”

He spoke like a character from a Dickens or Hemingway book, or pretty much any character from any old book. It was a bit amazing, and I could never get the hang of it.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Elijah Milne. Yours, my good man?”

That was a bit freaky. “Trevor Sanders.” 

I pointed in the distance. “There was a girl there, and she didn’t seem to know where her locker was. You know, Wylie?”

Elijah raised an eyebrow. “You mean Wylie Andrie Wilson?”

Frightening. “H—how do you know?”

He shrugged. “I zoomed in on one of her papers. You know, the personal details one. Her name was listed.”

“I—I can’t spot it from here. How could you?”

“It’s an ability I had from birth. It’s also the reason I memorise and remember things at a glance. Be it visual or audio. My dad says I have a ‘photographic memory.’”

My jaw dropped. “I never even knew that was a thing! I thought it only came in stories.”

“Calm down, kid.”

Wylie, the blond-haired girl, was right next to my locker in a flash. “I found it. It’s okay if you didn’t help.”

“Oh, uh…” I started.

“Hello, Ms. Wilson,” Elijah said, “How do you do?”

At the sound of her surname, she stiffened. “How did you—“

“Photographic memory at work. Trevor?”

I looked at him. “Mm?”

“Can I take a look at your schedule?”

I handed him my first paper.

Elijah went through the table like a fast-scanning machine. His eyes widened.

“Gimme yours, Wylie,” he said.

She nervously handed him her sheet.

I saw him look at it the same way he did with my schedule.

“Not what I expected,” he muttered.

I shook my head in exasperation. “What is it?”

“We’re all on the same classes. Even homeroom.” His voice sounded weirdly chipper. 

“And that is helpful how?” Wylie asked.

Elijah smirk. “Might as well get to know each other. Come on!”

6. Are Bullies The Worst Thing In Middle School?

“So,” I asked them, “what do you like to do?”

The three of us were heading for chemistry with Mrs. Bunsen. It’s odd her surname was named after a lab apparatus called a Bunsen burner, I thought, grinning.

“Well,” Elijah said, “I like to sing and dance, read, and study.”

Wylie’s mouth dropped. “Study? Who in their right mind would like to study, of all things!”

“What about you, Wylie?” I questioned.

“Sing, dance, play cards, and do Eastern martial arts,” she replied as shamelessly. 

My eyes widened. “Martial arts!”

Elijah was as surprised. “Of all things!”

She nodded. “I’m trained in Tae Kwon Do, and I practice karate and other stuff at home.”

“You probably might come in handy to beat up bullies,” I intoned.

But before either of us could continue, we heard a stomp, stomp, stomp in the hallways.

The stomps continued.

“Oh, no,” whimpered a kid next to me, “It’s Stevie-the-Bully!”

I gulped. Elijah froze. Wylie, however, went from angelic to alert.

“Who is that?”

Apparently, the answer was right in front of us. It landed on a pair of large feet. From the feet sprouted fat legs, which gave way to a plump stomach, which rose to sweaty arms and a very devious smirk on a face containing beady eyes.

That was probably Stevie-the-Bully.

“New kids!” He growled. Elijah whined and shrunk down. I went cold as ice and followed his move. Wylie, though, hatched something of her own. She furrowed her eyebrows, her cheeks turned red, and she thrust her fists at her hips.

“Trevor,” Elijah asked, “Are bullies the worst thing in middle school?”

I nodded. “Yes!”

7. Girl Power

“I repeat: Are you new kids?”

Seems like Stevie-the-Bully was still talking to us. I kept my mouth shut. Mom told me to ignore anything a bully ever asks.

But Wylie put us in trouble.

“Yes,” she said, “we are new kids.”

“Wylie!” Elijah hissed, “What did you do?”

Stevie smiled and rubbed his hands together. I gulped.

“THEN YOU ARE MINE!”

He stomped down to us and was about to raise a sweaty fist to wallop us when Wylie suddenly socked him in the stomach. Hard. 

“Oomph!” Stevie cried in pain.

Wylie’s eyes darted toward us.

“You two! Stand back.”

Elijah and I nodded and went as far away as we can from them.

Before Stevie even had a chance to get up, Wylie kicked him and jabbed him, then raised her arm and brought her hand down, as if to chop his forearm in half. He whined.

“Yeow!”

“Ha! Who’s more silly now? Me?” Wylie asked, a sickly grin forming on her face, “Or you?”

Stevie whimpered.

“I guess your name should be ‘Stupid Stevie,’ you know,” she said, dusting off her hands, “‘cause you are definitely stupid to pick on sixth graders. Off you go, grab your minions and stuff.” 

Stevie didn’t even dare growl. He whined and skulked out. 

I just stared, hoping that she didn’t give a punch to us. Oh boy.

But her face stirred and click!ed into seraphic calm. “Hey!”

“That’s what I call girl power,” I murmured under my breath.

8. Dreams Are Weird…Unless Friends Are By Your Side

“I like to sing and dance too, and do peer counselling,” I continued, hours after the Great Bully Destruction was over, “And spend time with my little sister.”

Elijah’s eyes widened, “Who do you listen to?”

I snorted. “Jr. Pop!”

Wylie beamed. “Me too!”

“So do I!” Elijah said.

“I wish I could be in the band,” I whispered, sounding like I was in a trance.

“Me too,” they both said.

We stood silent for a minute, wondering what it would be like to be a Jr. Pop kid. Elijah, however, snapped out of his daydream forty winks.

“We can help each other!”

I raised an eyebrow. “As in?”

“Well…In case the auditions happen, we can form a band, and we can enter at the same time! We just need a song…” Elijah said.

Wylie held up a finger. “One sec. I’ll see any good songs.” 

She pulled her phone out and swiped back and forth. She frowned. “Ummm…what was the last release?”

“‘Finesse,’” I said. Why in the world would she ask that?

Wylie held up her screen. “If so, that song released last month. Look!”

In the ‘New Releases’ list, only the ‘Finesse’ single was shown, its release date stating the month of June. Odd. 

“Are you using Amazon Music?” Elijah was scrolling on his phone.

“Yeah,” Wylie said.

“I use Spotify. Release dates are early,” he said. Then he was the one to frown. “Umm, you’re right. The last date was last month. Same song.”

I held up my phone. “Apple Music. The earliest release dates come here.”

I checked the list carefully. Elijah and Wylie were right. The last song was ‘Finesse’, stating last month’s release. Uh-oh.

“Wait!” Wylie said, slapping her forehead. “The website! Some songs don’t get released here. So…”

“…they’ll be on the officials!” I said, realisation dawning on my face.

Wylie was quicker that me and Elijah. Her eyes widened as she stared at the screen. 

“Problems…” she muttered, “no singers, no dancers, no nothing…”

“What?” Elijah pressed, “What is it?”

“There are no singers. Frank, Alice, Theo, Marty…they left long ago,” she said.

She was stating the names of the four Jr. Pop kids. Who got out of the band.

“They left?” Elijah voiced my thoughts, “They. Just.Left? Why?”

“Guess that’s how it goes,” I said, “They’ve been in the place for what—3 years? They had to leave.”

“And it seems like they got run over by problems when they ran out of singers!" Wylie said, showing us the Jr. Pop website with empty silhouettes of kids. "There are no artists to sing their songs!"

9. EliTreLie

“Is there any music club?” I asked them.

Elijah shook his head. “No. We don’t have anywhere to practice.”

“Yes, we do!” I said, remembering where Angela and I used to have fun with our Jr. Pop gewgaws. “My garage! It’s suuuuper huge. My mom doesn’t park her car there, so we use it.”

Wylie and Elijah seemed to think about it.

“Please, guys,” I pleaded, “It’s the best place, I promise.”

They sighed. “Okay.”

“How far is it?” Wylie asked.

“A ten-minute walk from here to my house. It’s #13,” I answered.

She smiled. “I’m #12. What about you, Eli?”

“#14. We’re practically neighbours,” said Elijah.

I nodded. “Come on.”

…

Knock, knock, knock.

Angela opened the door. “Oh, hey, Trev! Who are…”

She pointed to Elijah and Wylie. They beamed and waved to her. 

I stalked in and dropped my bag to the floor. “Did you eat anything?”

She shook her head.

I lifted her up and seated her on one arm while heading to the kitchen to check the fridge. Mom always tapes a sticky note to the door telling what to eat while she’s away. However, there was no paper. 

She probably forgot, I thought, Mum’s having a tough time with one of her law cases.

I decided to defrost one ready-to-eat pasta bowl and grab some veggies, olive oil and lemon juice to cook up a salad for us. 

“Trevor,” Wylie asked, “you can lift a nine-year-old at the age of eleven?”

I shrugged. “It’s actually Angie who’s the trick. She’s really light. On the other hand…I might’ve been strong enough to, after all those cardio workouts I did.”

I put Angela down on a chair, and the pasta in the oven, setting the timer to two minutes. With that done, I started mixing in lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions and tofu in a bowl, then squeezed a lemon to drizzle the heap. I added olive oil to the mixture and sprinkled oregano and chilli flakes. It was how I made my custom salad. 

I set the bowl down and pulled out the pasta with a fork. I gave the pasta to Angie, and passed the bowl to my new friends. “Snack on.”

The smiled and dug into the salad.

“What should our band name be?” Wylie asked between bites.

“Mmmm…how about EliTreLie?” I said, almost without thinking.

The two stopped eating. “What?”

“Because it has our names,” I said, “‘Eli’ is Elijah, Tre is Trevor, which is me, and ‘Lie’ is Wylie?”

Wylie put her serving down and thought. “It works.”

“Is that our final name? EliTreLie?” Elijah asked me.

I nodded. “Yes. That’s going to be our band.”

10. The JPK Test

“Okay, time for some fun.”

I had just put Angela to catch some shut-eye, then I quietly took my friends outside to our Jr. Pop Prep Place, a.k.a the garage. We stepped inside. Our garage was having oiling and mechanical stuff in the back, so that we’d have enough space.

The front part was different. It was having a TV hooked up on one of the walls. There were drums, a guitar set and a keyboard arranged neatly in one corner. There was a shelf full of sheet music Angie and I collected and wrote for the songs. In the centre of the room, there was a big rug placed on the floor, a platform for our dancing. Some huge thick mats, commonly used for the stunts, were leaning against the wall. Mics and headphones where stashed near the instruments. 

Yeah. We were probably into this stuff.

“This. Is. Perfect,” Wylie said, putting her bag down. 

I nodded. “I thought so too.”

“We’re anyway dressed up for a sweat party, so we might as well get on with it.” Elijah was already flexing his legs. 

“Oh, bring it on!” I said.

…

After quick vocal and physical warm-ups, we were ready to see if we can be auditioning for the new Jr. Pop Kids. We tried some songs for the first part of our test: the vocal section.

“Let’s see,” said Wylie, thinking instead of pulling out her cell, “we can use…’Lost in Japan!’ That’s a really good song.”

I nodded. “Who wants to go first?”

Elijah raised his hand. “I do!”

“Go for it!” Wylie was getting excited.

Elijah swallowed hard. Then, he started singing.

“All it’d take is one flight

We’d be in the same time zone

Looking through your timeline

Seeing all the rainbows, I…”

Wylie picked it up from there. “

“I got an idea

And I know that it sounds crazy

But I just wanna see ya

And all I gotta ask…”

Then, it was my turn.

“Do you got plans tonight?

I’m a couple hundred miles from Japan tonight

I was thinking I could fly to hang with you tonight

’Cause I can’t get you off my mind

Can’t get you off my mind—“

“Okay, enough,” Wylie said, cutting me off, “We got this for the vocals. Now, we need to move to Part 2.”

“The dance off,” Elijah whispered.

“With the same song,” I said, turning on the TV, selecting YouTube, then playing the single ‘Lost in Japan.’ 

Wylie went first this time. She stretched a bit, then started her moves.

They were really good, and she pulled off a few aerials in the middle. She also mastered the chorus dance, which was kinda hard to do. 

Elijah started next and he also polished some of his moves, then doing a helicopter stunt in the last minute. Cool!

Last up was me. I tried hard to impress my new friends, and it worked. Power in some moves, softness in a little. I did a front flip and landed in a split, ending my part.

“That was awesome, Trev!” Wylie clapped.

I fist-bumped both of them. “Thanks!”

“We need a song now,” Wylie muttered.

Before any of us could speak, her phone started ringing. She picked it up and stared at the number. “It’s my dad. He’s checking up on me. Guess he forgot to read my text.”

She picked it up and held it up in front of her.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, Wylie. You didn’t show up at home today, dear. Where are you?” A male voice was on the other end of the line.

“Dad, you forgot to read my message?”

“Oh, wait! Yeah, you were visiting friends, isn’t it? For a band practice?”

Wylie turned to us and sheepishly smiled. “Sort of a…test. I told you?”

Her dad seemed to nod. “Yeah, hon. Hey, if you get into Jr. Pop by a stroke of luck, I’m telling ya, your mom’s gonna be proud. Keep that in mind, Wylie.”

Wylie smiled and nodded, but I heard her swallow hard too. As a peer counsellor, I can understand and find things in people that they want to hide. Even though I told them that I did that job in elementary, she probably forgot that. Something was troubling her—about her mom? Odd. 

When the call ended, I asked her, “What’s up with your mother?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Anyway, we gotta make our YouTube channel named EliTreLie. That’s the only way Jr. Pop could find us. Should be easy as pie. And we need to figure out how to shoot the videos…”

“Relax,” Elijah said. He was swiping across on his phone. “My dad’s a famous director. He can help us in the last thing you told us. And I’m pretty good with computers, too. Howzat?”

I nodded. “That works. Talk to him, Eli, and I’ll see how we can practice. It should be easy…considering the work and plans needed.”

11. Wait, We Got Competition? 

We reached school a bit early today, feeling giddy and excited and thinking of the fun we’d have shooting our first music vid. Wylie was feeling sullen again, but me and Elijah decided not to ask her about her mom without upsetting her again. Something’s going on, I thought, If Wylie isn’t feeling any better, it could affect her strength and motivation needed to be doing the auditions. I need to find out.

We were stuffing ourselves with veggie sandwiches and salad smothered in mayonnaise and creamy olives when three children came to us. Hopefully, they aren’t bullies, I thought suspiciously. 

The first child, a girl about our age, her brown hair tossed back, asked us, “Are the rumours true?”

“What rumour?” Wylie countered.

“You know,” the second kid, a boy with deep brown eyes and freckles scattered across his face, said, “You’re forming a band. You’re auditioning for the next Jr. Pop Kids. And you’re having a YouTube channel as for the first step. Right?”

“That’s correct, my good man,” Elijah answered, using his formal English to tell the three kids we come in peace.

“Yeah. About that,” the last child, a girl, with black hair and bangs that seemed to shade a bit of her eyes, indicating that she was a bit shy to step up and speak, said, “We’re…also doing the same thing. Being a band, doing the…uh…”

“Spill it, Tana,” muttered the boy.

The girl was a bit hesitant. Shy, like I deduced. “Auditions. For the…um…”

I helped out, feeling sorry for her. “For getting in Jr. Pop?”

She nodded, giving me a small smile. “Yeah. That.”

“Okay,” said Wylie, taking it in.

“So, allow us to introduce ourselves…” the boy started, then he gestured to me. “Your name’s…”

“Trevor,” I said, answering his doubt.

“Trevor,” he repeated, “We are the 3Ts, and I’m Thomas.”

The brown-haired girl said, “I’m Tamira.”

The black-haired girl was feeling a bit scared, I noticed. However, the other kids didn’t seem to care, and gave her a piercing look that said, We’re in charge.

“And I—I’m Tana,” she stammered.

“Got it. You know who I am,” I said, tapping my chest, “and this is Wylie and Elijah. We’re EliTreLie. Pleased to meet you.”

“We just informed you, you know,” Tamira said, “We’re not trying to spark a rivalry. We’re trying to keep it even, so that no harm comes our way, or yours. You okay with that?”

I nodded, and Elijah and Wylie agreed too.

“Guess we’ll see you around,” Thomas said, giving us a little bow.

When they walked away, Wylie whispered to us, “This is bad. They probably mean bad news, and I am not feeling good about this.”

“Well,” I said, trying to make a joke, “Thomas is more formal that Eli, that’s for sure.”

That got all of us laughing, including Elijah.

Huh, I thought, Is that what Wylie needs? Joy?

I needed to find out, and then, I decided to sign up for Peer Counsellor today in the afternoon.

12. Three Minds Are Better Than One

“Hello!” I said to Mrs. Bunsen as I stepped into the Counsellors’ room, grinning widely.

She flashed a smiled at me too. “Trevor! What are you doing here?”

I shrugged. “Just entering for Peer Counselling.”

“My, my, my,” she said, moving from one place to another for a sheet of some kind, “I never thought you were one to do so! Will wonders never cease?”

“I did it when I was in elementary,” I said.

She widened her eyes in happy surprise. “Well! I’ll have you fill this in…” she said, pulling out a name sheet. I filled in all the details and passed it back to her. 

“One of the perks here,” she said, winking at me, “is that you get to miss your periods after Lunch…including study hall! Skip them to counsel any conflict or problem a student has. Anyway, all the last periods are just repetitions, don’t you worry, pet. Now, one last question—Anyone you want to counsel specifically?”

My eyes popped out of my sockets. “You can do that?”

Mrs. Bunsen nodded. “Yes, son. Who do you want to?”

I thought for a minute, then said promptly, “Wylie Andrie Wilson.”

She carefully noted the name down, then peered at me through her spectacles. “All right, dear. Let’s see the place you want to converse in.”

As she got up and led me into the large main counselling room, I quietly wondered whether this would solve the problem of Wylie’s.

If only she comes here.

…

I worked out my magic on the students I was assigned, and they came back to Mrs. Bunsen saying that they felt much better. I patted myself on the back, whispering a prayer done for a good job and to keep doing work like this.

One fine and sudden day, Ms. Gottin, the school principal, asked me to counsel a student. She said that the student ‘is creating destructive blocks for herself by beating up another student’ and needed me to tell her ‘that violence is seldom the answer to violence’. 

“I’m also aware that this student you have specifically mentioned…to be assigned to you at all times, yes?”

I nodded. “That’s true.”

“Then keep an eye out for this girl. I’m afraid she might beat up you.”

I nodded, although I had the urge to tell that the person I’m counselling (kinda) wasn’t going to beat me up the minute she found out who her counsellor was. 

And my hunch was right.

The minute the student stepped into the room, her jaw dropped in surprise. I was calm. 

Because that’s when Wylie found out what I was doing.

…

“I don’t understand,” she said softly, taking a sip of water, “I thought it was someone else.”

I nodded. “But I didn’t want to tell you.”

She furrowed her eyebrows at me. 

I threw my hands up in surrender. “Look, I know that something’s been troubling you ever since your dad mentioned your mom. I just…wanted to find out without actually ever finding out.”

Wylie felt guilty for doubting me, of course. “I—I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “Don’t be. I know what I did was wrong.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

We paused, of course. It was an awkward pause, especially a pause that occurs when the person you seem to be counselling is actually your new best friend.

I clapped my hands. “So. I won’t go into the details of what you did, ‘cause, duh, I was there. So, I’d rather start talking about your…personality. Not that I don’t know it.”

She giggled a bit. I actually made the jokes on purpose so that she didn’t need to be scared. It worked.

“Ummm…the reason my personality is so…destructive, because…yes, this has to do with my mom,” she said, her voice cracking. 

I covered her hand with mine. “Go on.”

“And, it happened last year,” Wylie continued, “My mom was infected with cancer in January. The minute we knew, we rushed her to a hospital, where she stayed for almost half the year, and she didn’t get better at all. It grew worse, and she finally…passed away, December. Even after months of operation.”

“I’m sorry about your loss, Wylie,” I said. Deep down, I knew it hurt. She must have probably been really close to her mother, and the bad news affected her so much. Poor Wylie.

“T—that was only the beginning. It was like my mom always protected me, but when she died, it felt like the protection was gone. So, I self-trained myself in defence, specifically, martial arts of the Far East. I got professional training in Tae Kwon Do. The rest…you know.” That was the end.

Time for my advice. “Okay, Wylie, again, I am really sorry about your mom. The other thing I’m going to tell you, I’m not telling this because we’re friends, or because your my bandmate, or because I’m counselling you. But, even though you’d face science instead of imagination, I’m telling you that no matter what happens to your mom, her love, her help, her protection: all of that…is in your heart. Many people say this, I know, but…it’s true. We believe in the right things. Even if it sounds—“

“Bonkers?” Wylie asked.

I pretended to cringe and said, “Yes, bonkers.”

As she got up to leave, she turned to me. “I’ll tell Eli everything. Don’t worry.”

I nodded.

She went from the room. I just stared at the table, replaying the conversation in my head.

Yeah, I thought, I have friends. Having a group of three minds is much better than one.

13. Action! Music!

“This is it!” Wylie cried in joy.

Today was the shooting day of our new video ‘Lost in Japan’. Even I couldn’t help feeling excited.

The day was a Saturday, so we didn’t need to worry about school at that time. We were dressed in our best costumes, and we had to do the whole song three times to give multiple shots to choose from. Hard work, but we had to do it to audition.

Mr. Milne, Elijah’s dad, was going to direct the MV. He didn’t bring a whole team of crewmen to help with that stuff. But he brought a high-def compact video cam to help with the shooting. It looked a lot like the one they used in the movies, a vital tool to recognise when we were doing the real thing on the Jr. Pop set.

We were actually using green screen in an empty warehouse me, Elijah and Wylie turned into our custom JP Prep Set. It was complete with green screen effects, chroma, twelve frames, and all the other movie things. It was fun.

To ensure that no one stumbles across the secret stash of equipment there, we all put our pocket money forward and a little bit of Mr. Milne’s money to buy the warehouse. Now, no one needed to know what was in there. 

I was dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans, and wore high-tops I bought as apparel from Jr. Pop’s store. Wylie told me that it was a clue to the public as to what we’re doing the video for. She was wearing her hair in two buns that sat on either side of her head, and a pair of jeans, a fur shrug over her pink full-sleeved T-shirt and boots. Elijah wore a full-decked flexible suit, complete with a bow-tie, and formal trousers and black shoes. That was our getup for the first take. 

We entered our set and put up the props. We took our positions like we did before, far from each other. I was the first to go, and I was sweating a bit. But I thought about something Angela has said to me before entering the regional dance competition. 

”I’m nervous; I can’t do it,” I had said.

”You’ll be fine”, she had said, “Dance like nobody’s watching. I’m telling you, don’t feel the judges’ eyes bore into you. Be free and do the dance. Good luck.”

I nodded, remembering. Yeah, Trev. Do it like no-one’s seeing you.

“Music!”

The piano intro started, and I just did what I had to do, in my acting part: Sit around and shake my head, and stare at the prop phone, reading some texts.

Then, the beat started. I pretended to sigh, then stared at the camera and started singing.

14. It’s A Wrap!

We did it. We did it. We did it.

Those were the words that went on in my head every single time. We almost made history, we did our first music video, and we finally realised we got what it takes to make Jr. Pop. Boo-yah!

As we were having salad and sandwiches at home with Mom, Mr. Milne and Angela, I couldn’t help feeling that we made it.

“I have to say, Millie,” Mr. Milne said, digging into a fresh hunk of mayo, “I’m impressed. These kids are definitely making the band, and it’s bull hockey if they don’t. You sure got lot of talent, son.”
He was telling that to Elijah. He beamed.

“Well, Eros,” Mom said, “Trevor’s won the regional championship of dance! He’s done the state too, and a runner-up in the nationals. I’m really proud of him. He’s done the same for singing, and he’s…well, he’s excellent. He should get into Jr. Pop, I believe. And so should Wylie and Elijah.”

While they were talking, we had finished our meals and we wanted to see all of the three videos, but Mr. Milne wasn’t done editing. So we went to my garage instead. 

Wylie swallowed. “Guys…”

Elijah and I looked up from the lyrics we were reading. We raised our eyebrows. 

“…You know, well, everything I told you about my life, yes?”

“Yeah,” Elijah nodded.

Wylie’s eyes misted over a bit. “I just…wish…she was here to see this…”

“Oh, Wylie…”

For some reason, she seemed extra precious to us, and in that feeling, me and Elijah went over to hug her. She wrapped her arms around both of us, squeezing tight. 

“Don’t worry, Wylie,” Elijah said, rubbing her back. “We’ll be fine.”

I hope so, I thought, Wylie’s feeling a bit better after this, and that’s all she needs. Joy.

I had done that already.

Hadn’t I?

15. A Change Of Mind

"Hey!"

I gasped. So did Elijah and Wylie. 

"Stevie?" 

He grinned. "Loved your video! You are definitely going to be the new J-Pop kids."

Stevie held up his phone screen, showing our 'Lost in Japan' video. I beamed.

"Thanks!"

He started to scratch his neck. "You know, I'm sorry I picked on you kids the first day. But I don't know how you guys can do this stuff. Someone tipped me off about this, then I spread the word."

"That's awesome, Stevie!" Elijah said, slapping him a high five. "But who told you?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. No name."

We exchanged glances when he left. Something was going on. Who told Stevie about this video? It had been edited, of course, with Elijah’s and Mr. Milne’s help, but we only planned to release it today. We did too, before coming to school. Who found out?

…

We saw the 3Ts at lunch today, but for some reason, they were arguing. We couldn’t hear (and decided not to) but we picked up a few words. 

“Tana, we can’t put up with this!”

“Do something about that sprain, or EliTreLie will get ahead of us.”

Tana, the black-haired girl we met before, was off to one side, crying.

It then seemed like they weren’t arguing with each other. They were shouting at her! We exchanged glances. Elijah shrugged, and Wylie looked worried. I, on the other hand, was thoughtful. I hadn’t told Mrs. Bunsen to put Tana on my list, but it now dawned on me that I had to. 

Later, dude.

Okay, my gut was probably telling me to wait, and so I did. 

Now, all that’s left, is to see what was going on.

16. Life’s Not Always Grateful

I was doing my Algebra homework when I heard a knock on the door.

Mrs. Bunsen strode in, looking apprehensive. “There’s this girl—Tana—she has requested to see you. 

I raised my eyebrows. “Requested?”

She nodded grimly. “Yes, dear. This is certainly odd, so be careful.”

Mrs. Bunsen patted my back, then left.

Tana came in and sat across me. “Hello.”

“Hi. So…” I said, “how are you?”

She shook her head. “Not great. It’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

I nodded. “Go on.”

“Trevor,” she said, “d’you think there’s something wrong with me?”

I looked at her up and down. “Er, no.”

“Uh—are you sure?”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I feel right. Mentally and emotionally.”

“You are pretty okay to me, Tana.”

She sighed. “No. It’s like…You remember the time me, Tom and Tam introduced ourselves?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“And, you realised that I was…quiet? Scared? Shy?”

“Is that what you wanted to ask me about?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. Am I being too shy?”

I thought hard, then said, “I don’t think being shy has to do anything to affect your personality, Tana. Everyone has nerves, including me, when you are new as a middle school student.”

“I’ve been scared my whole life.”

That was new. “Ummm…tell me more.”

“It’s like…my life is complicated. You might not be able to understand,” she said. 

“I can handle complicated.”

“Fine. Umm…no one in my life, has tried to do good. For my well-being or happiness. They think I’m some kind of delinquent, a no-good person. Even if I’m not involved in anything bad, they don’t look right and assume it’s my fault. 

“I see.”

“Thomas and Tamira care, but not much. All they want to do is get into Jr. Pop and become famous. I try and do good. Today I sprained my ankle, and I told them. Well, they didn’t care a hoot. They shouted at me, saying that I needed to do something about it. In any way, they said to come for practice tomorrow.” 

“With a sprained ankle?”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you tell them that they were bonkers?”

“I tried; they didn’t listen.”

“God, Tana; they are bad enough.”

She nodded, then looked at her watch. “Well, I better leave. My mom’s outside to pick me up.”

As she started to leave, I said, “Wait.”

Tana turned around. “What?”

“You were the one, right? To tell Stevie about our new music video.”

She looked down. “Yes.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I told you; no one did any good in my life, Trevor.”

She opened the door and strode out, leaving me dazed.

What?

17. Making Plans…Or Making Problems?

"What?" 

That was the reaction from Elijah and Wylie. A plain, simple word, which people normally say. However, this was used for a complicated statement.

We were doing stunt practice.

"That's what happened," I said. 

"Oh, well," Elijah said, slapping a hand over his eyes and front-flipping in the air. 

"We should tell them," I suggested, doing a handstand. "Tom and Tam."

Wylie was twirling nonstop but then ceased her exercise to widen her eyes at me. "Are you serious? Tana will end up in trouble if you do that!"

I opened my mouth to say something, but stopped. Choose your words carefully, Trevor.

"O…okay," came out instead.

As the two stretched their arms back and clicked the TV to pick our dance along for our next song, I thought about Tana's problem for a while. But then I shook it out of my head.

No, dude. Focus. First Jr. Pop. Then finishing the problem. Last, her.

…

At night, I thought about our band name, EliTreLie, over and over again. This is it. We have a name, we have the talent. Our singing and dancing skills. We are going to make Jr. Pop.