“Hey, guys, you were amazing today.” He sits down and smiles at us. “Seriously, everybody in Drama was foaming at the mouth at having to compete with you guys for the Senior Showcase. You’re totally the front-runners.”

“Thanks, man.” Jack shakes Carter’s hand.

“Yeah, that’s so nice of you.” Ben tilts his head at Carter slightly.

“And I know you’re upset” — Emme rubs her hand on Carter’s back — “but you had one of the most difficult monologues to do, and I think you recovered nicely.”

What the hell is going on? They are practically falling all over this no-talent hack. Fine, I’ll give it to Emme and Ben that he’s good-looking in that overly coifed all-American kind of way, but I expected more from Jack. Considering that Jack wants to be a composer for the big screen, I guess he sees Carter as his ticket into the business or whatever.

I mean, okay, I liked the first two Kavalier Kids movies as a kid, but seriously …

This is so not how I pictured senior year starting off. Granted, I didn’t suddenly expect to mature completely, but how can I possibly work on my self-confidence when I’ve got Mr. Six-Pack sitting across from me? Especially when the three people most important to me are clearly enamored of this Former Child Star?

I don’t say anything for the rest of lunch. Not when Carter breaks out a container full of chicken breast that serves as his entire meal. Not when I notice him looking at my cheeseburger and fries in envy. (At least I’ve got something over him; I got this “body” by stuffing my face with junk food, so he can just suck on that.) Not when Emme fills him in on our senior thesis. And especially not when Jack invites him to our rehearsal this weekend at my apartment.

I don’t say a word.

And nobody seems to notice. Or care.

I’m ready to put this miserable day behind me when Emme approaches me with a smile on her face.

I smile back at her until she says, “Don’t hate me.” She pulls out The Calendar. I see Jack walking over, but as soon as he sees the all-too-familiar binder, he heads for the door.

“Jack’s walking away.” I rat him out.

Emme sprints to grab Jack, and he gives me the look of death as she drags him over.

“Come on, guys,” she says, “this semester is going to be extremely complicated with college auditions, the senior thesis, and the showcase. We’ve got to figure everything out.”

She opens up the color-coded weekly calendar that contains her academic assignments, her practice pieces, the band’s schedule, and all the deadlines to pretty much everything on earth. She refuses to put it on her phone. She also writes out all her music. Pretty much everybody in class uses computers to record or write songs. But Emme uses good old paper and pencil.

It’s so old-school. It’s also utterly endearing.

I love that she still does it, especially after us picking on her about it since freshman year. I’d hate for her to change that or anything else about her. Except for her opinion about me — that I’d love to change.

She starts quizzing us on our schedules, assignments, and projects so she can figure out a practice schedule for the band.

I may be the front man, Jack may be the charisma, Ben may be the soul, but Emme is the heart of the band.

I think back to the time when I realized how much we needed her. How much I needed her. It was the first official fight of the band. And, of course, I was the reason for it.

Besides being the front man, I’m the pain in the ass of the band.

Our first few performances freshman year went okay. The sound was fine — only I was having some problems being the proper “leader” of the band. I thought I was walking into a rehearsal, but I was mistaken.

I could immediately tell by the silence that greeted me when I entered the room that something was wrong.

“We’ve got to talk.” Jack gestured to the seat next to him.

I stayed standing.

Jack didn’t seem surprised. “Okay, so no offense.”

Generally speaking, when somebody starts a sentence with “no offense,” what follows is something that you will take offense at.

“I mean, you know we all love you,” Jack continued, only further delaying this awkward intervention.

I studied Ben to see if I could get a hint of what was going on, but he was just giving me a slight smile. I could tell he was smiling so the guilt wouldn’t completely ooze off his face. Emme was worse. She was looking down at the ground; she wouldn’t even look at me. She seemed even more uncomfortable than I was. And I had thought that was humanly impossible.

“Can you just get it over with?” I said with an even tone.

Jack continued to be the spokesperson of the group. “Look, you’re an amazing musician and songwriter; I mean, it kills me that you’re so talented.” Now I was the one looking down at the floor. “Thank God I have the looks, because that just wouldn’t be fair.” Once again, Jack tried to lighten the mood. “It’s just that … when you’re onstage, you look miserable. You don’t move around, you don’t engage the audience, you just close your eyes and sing. We need you to be more of a … front man.”

“Why do I have to be the front man?”

Jack threw his hands up. “Ah, because you’re the lead singer.”

“But that doesn’t mean I have to be the one to always speak?”

Jack looked at Ben and Emme. “Yeah, it does.”