This time around, it was Felix who was late for band practice.

That in itself was already strange. Out of all the members of the still-unnamed band, excluding Elise herself (who could, transportation-wise, only choose between the over-punctual train and the one that would make her late), Felix had always been the most punctual. Everyone else was already there—even Jen and Zahir, who had a terrible track record with showing up on time.

Elise frowned at the door. Even though she didn't know him well yet, she couldn't help worrying. She always worried when someone didn't show up when they usually should; some part of her, no matter how irrational, always whispered that something might have happened to them. But Jen didn't seem worried; or perhaps she simply wasn't realizing that Felix was late. From all Elise had seen, Jen's sense of the passage of time was shaky and skeevy at best.

Jen and Shine were quickly immersed in some conversation Elise couldn't possibly hope to keep up with, some complicated music nerd topic that required an advanced understanding of music to make sense of. She was left sitting on the sidelines, glancing over her shoulder at the door, listening for the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Wondering if she should say something about Felix being over ten minutes late already.

Her eyes met with Zahir, but he quickly looked away. The guitarist was watching Jen and Shine like he wanted to participate in their conversation but didn't know how to join. Someone more courageous, Elise mused, would probably have gone up to him now and made a joke about incomprehensible music geek talk. Perhaps used this opportunity to talk to Zahir properly, break the ice and awkwardness that still seemed to hang between them. But she couldn't do it. Even though it should be so easy, here she was, silent and awkwardly glued to her seat.

Finally, as Felix' delay was growing close to fifteen minutes, she pulled herself together at last. "Guys," she said, "do any of you know where Felix is?"

The others paused. Jen glanced at her phone, only now seeming to realize what time it was.

"You're right, he's late!" she burst out, jumping to her feet. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

Elise squirmed sheepishly. "I thought you knew."

"Ellie, you know I'm stupid. You have to tell me things! Hang on." Tapping around on her phone, Jen held it to her ear and waited. She didn't have to wait long. "Hey, Felix!" she said into the speaker. "You better be super sick or something to ditch us—huh?"

Elise couldn't catch what Felix was saying, but Jen furrowed her brow. "What do you mean, a surprise?"

A muffled laugh came from the speaker, and Jen huffed and pouted. "Fine," she said. "Fine! Yeah, I can do that. You know me. What?—Okay, okay. See you later. Bye!"

Lowering her phone, she turned back to the others, who were regarding her with unconcealed curiosity. "What's going on?" Shine asked.

"He said he's gonna be late," Jen replied. "He has a surprise for us, or something. And he asked me to play the drums till he gets here."

Elise raised her eyebrows. "You can do that?"

"Yep," said Shine. "Our music idiot can play any instrument. She could ditch us any day and still be a whole band."

Something in Elise's chest sank and dropped at the thought. Jen truly was talented. What if, someday in the future, she decided to do what so many band singers did and pursued a solo career? It was definitely too early to be having these thoughts, she knew. But even now, the idea of Jen eventually leaving the band made her feel strangely lonely.

Who are you kidding? By the time that happens, you'll long have checked out of this friendship, as always. If you're even still part of the band at all.

And then that thought was pushed out by a rather more acute realization.

"Wait," she said. "If you're playing the drums…does that mean I have to sing alone?"

Jen paused where she had been in the middle of picking up the drumsticks. "Sure," she said. "Is there a problem?"

Elise shifted. Hesitated.

"I…don't know if I have the lungs for that," she admitted.

Jen furrowed her brow, then waved it off with an encouraging smile. "I'm sure you can do it!"

At least that's one of us, Elise thought. Her lungs were doing fine at the moment, which was not to say that the bar was very high there. Besides, there was never any knowing how fast that would change.

"I mean, I can try," she said. "But no promises that I won't run out of breath or sound stupid, okay?"

"You won't," Jen said with a firmness that didn't make Elise any better. It wasn't an encouragement; to her ears it sounded more like she refused to consider failure even an option. If she did fail here…would she believe Elise if she said that she truly couldn't do any better?

What the hell are you doing, Elise? You're not even trying!

Pay attention, you idiot! The ball was literally in front of you!

We're all losing here! Stop standing around and do something!

Elise shut down the voices yelling at her from the depths of her memory, over a decade old by now but still stinging like salt in wounds that had never truly healed, only become invisible over the years. This wasn't middle school, she told herself, and this wasn't gym class. Back then, not even she had fully understood that her physical limitations weren't like everyone else's, to say nothing of her classmates. But Jen wasn't an annoyed ten-year-old. Jen knew. Jen would get it.

"Okay," she said, picking up the microphone, trying to ignore the tingling tension in her chest and the clammy feeling in her hands. "What are we playing first?"

The others all automatically looked to Jen. "Welcome To My World," she said, "to warm up?"

Elise grimaced in discomfort. "We can already do that one without problems," she said. "And I can't hit your high notes."

"Hmm. True," Jen mused. "Then, what about Ground Breaker?"

A fast song. Probably too fast for Elise to catch her breath in between the lines. But she didn't want to argue back again, so she said, "Okay."

Jen counted the beats, then Shine's bass joined in, then Zahir's guitar. Elise took a deep breath, waiting for her cue. She didn't have to count for that one; she had already memorized the song enough to know it by instinct alone.

Her body was tense. Normally the first part was Jen's, and she was only mouthing along for fun. Her voice came out stiff and awkward when she sang, even if, by some miracle, she wasn't anxious enough to mess up the cue. Her hands were sweaty and slippery around the mic. She tried to focus on everything at once: melody and tempo, lyrics and her own breathing, struggling to stay on-key, half swallowing syllables, forcing out the long notes that Jen usually did. Her voice, amplified by the mic, sounded horribly distorted and embarrassing in her own ears.

Finally, after half an eternity, the song ended. Elise's throat felt tight, and so did her lungs. She coughed and cleared her throat, trying to make it subtle. Her medication was in her bag just a few feet away, but her plastic inhaler was so loud she wasn't comfortable using it in front of people. Damn, she just hoped this would go away soon. Otherwise…this would be a problem.

"I'm so sorry, guys," she said before any of the others could comment on her performance. "It's the nerves. I'm not used to singing alone."

"Don't mind, don't mind!" Shine exclaimed at once. Jen was silent behind the drum set. Her face was hidden behind one of the drums—those plate things, what were they called again? Elise couldn't remember.

"Let's try another one," she said at length, her voice cool and painfully calm. "We haven't played Crack! enough yet, right?"

Elise glanced to the side, feeling like an idiot and a burden. "Is that okay?" she asked. "I mean, shouldn't we practice the new songs with Felix at the drums?"

"He can catch up," Jen said flatly. "Just try it."

"…okay."

Truth be told, Elise wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed, disappear under the covers and hide from the others' eyes. But she couldn't cause trouble, couldn't make a scene. She had to stand here and keep singing, even though her voice was being crushed under the pressure resting on her from all sides.

And hey, singing a humorous song about a mental breakdown was almost comically fitting right now.

"Deadlines, bad times
Sad news in the headlines
Bad rhymes, car fines
They say make lemonade when life gives you limes
And I shouldn't be whining 'cause I'm fine, fine, fine
But I feel like a breaking glass of wine, wine, wine—

Crack!
Just a straw on my back, now here's a panic attack
Crack!
And I don't mean to be rude, but can you cut me some slack
I'm just having a bad day, I promise it's not always
Crack!
Be right back
From my much-needed breakdown."

The good part about this song was that it was catchy. Immensely, annoyingly, sing-at-the-top-of-your-lungs catchy. Elise always had to stop herself from half yelling the lines when singing them in the shower. Right now, of course, she couldn't go fully wild. Going completely ham was easier said than done in front of witnesses, especially if she should be focusing on giving a half-decent performance.

For part of the song, she actually found herself having fun. For some reason Crack! had always been easier for her to memorize than Ground Breaker; maybe, she mused, because it was more relatable, or maybe she just liked the melody better. Either way her voice flowed more freely now, and she was less tense than she had been before. Maybe she was finally getting the hang of it. Maybe she had just needed to warm up—

And then her body abruptly and violently reminded her why singing whole songs at the top of her lungs was an awful, terrible, no-good idea.

Her chest tightened. Her voice faltered. She had to clear her voice in between lines and missed even more words than before. Her singing became weak and breathy. She couldn't hit the high notes anymore, and she ran out of breath after barely half a line.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

The song ended. Elise felt like crying. Her voice was completely gone. Her breath was shorter than ever.

"I'm so sorry," she said, then had to clear her throat again. It worked for barely two seconds before she had to do it again.

On instinct her eyes searched for Jen's face. Now that she had seen a glimpse of the real scope of the problem—could she still believe that Elise was truly suited to sing in this band?

For a long, painful moment, Jen was silent. Her ever-expressive face was suddenly unreadable.

"Sorry," Elise muttered again, her voice faint and choked up. "I…told you I couldn't do it."

Jen jumped to her feet.

"You," she said as she marched around the drum set, glaring up at Elise with dark, smoldering eyes. "Did you do that on purpose?"

They don't get it after all. Healthy people can't understand.

Tears shot up in Elise's eyes, but she blinked them away. "No," she answered, half hurt, half angry. "I—"

"Surprise, guys!"

The door flew open with a bang. Felix, who had been missing all practice, had finally turned up.

"Guess what happened!" he exclaimed, oblivious to the tension in the room or else ignoring it on purpose. "I got us a new gig!"

Absolute silence. Elise resisted the urge to clear her throat again.

"It's the biggest one yet," Felix declared. "And get this. We even get paid!"

Beaming from ear to ear, he waited for the obvious reaction from the band. But no one said anything. Elise tried not to look at the rest of them.

Finally Felix' smile faded. Blinking, he looked from one band member to the other, one by one.

"Huh," he said at length. "Did I come in at a bad time?"