PTXperience(s)

Missing Pentatonix

Avi awoke in his bunk and lay for a moment without moving, listening to the sleepy voices of his bandmates as they ate breakfast, drank coffee and generally relaxed for the hour or two they allowed themselves in the morning before getting to work. It was comforting—Kirstie's warm chatter, Kevin's more sedate comments interspersed with his contagious laughter, Scott and Mitch's unending supply of quips and jokes and stories punctuated by their near-constant giggles—

And then it all stopped. Not in the way conversation sometimes does between friends but in an odd, abrupt way that made the silence seem deafening. He pushed back the curtain and swivelled out of bed.

Mitch and Scott were sitting at the table on their respective phones, both uncharacteristically quiet and—for Scott, anyway—moody-looking. Kirstie was lying on one of the couches with a tea at her elbow, her own phone in her hand. Kevin was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Kev?" he asked the room at large, almost not expecting an answer.

"Who?" Scott asked without looking up.

"Kev," Avi repeated, suspecting a trick. "You know, Kevin, our beatboxer?"

"Beatboxer?" Mitch echoed. "We don't have one of those. Did you eat some bad ribs last night, Dad?"

Avi frowned and ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. "I'm too tired for games," he told them bluntly. "Just tell me where he is. I heard him a second ago..."

"Oh, you mean that guy I emailed back before the Sing-Off, the one who celloboxed?" Scott's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Avi, we haven't spoken to him since he decided not to join. Why would he be here?"

"But he did join. You paid for his flight. He's part of our group..."

The others were staring at him now. After a moment Scott stood. "Maybe you need to sit down..."

Avi twisted away from the blond as he reached for him. "No, he joined. He's part of the reason we won the Sing-Off. Why are you guys doing this?"

"But, Avi..." Mitch traded a concerned look with Kirstie. "...we didn't win the Sing-Off. Remember? Urban Method won. We got voted off in the tenth episode."

Avi's frown deepened. "Then what's all this? The tour bus, the artwork...?" As he glanced around he realized that the bus was different—there was no artwork on the walls, it was smaller and shabbier and—most disturbing of all—the spot where Kevin's cello usually stood was empty.

"We just got this bus," Kirstie informed him slowly. "We haven't even had it a month. We've only just started getting gigs outside of LA."

"But...but the North American tour, going to Europe, touring with Kelly Clarkson..."

"What are you talking about?" Mitch asked him. "Kelly Clarkson? Yeah, in our dreams! We've never even performed outside of California!"

Avi felt as if the ground was dropping out from under him. He closed his eyes and scrubbed at his face, suddenly questioning his own sanity. After a few seconds he directed his gaze at Mitch again, ready to continue their surreal conversation.

But Mitch wasn't there.

Avi glanced around in frightened confusion. What was going on? "Where's Mitch?" he asked Scott who was still fiddling on his phone.

Scott frowned up at him. "Mitch? At home, I assume. I haven't texted him in a couple of weeks."

"But...but he was right there..."

"Where?"

"At the table."

"Why would he be here? He doesn't even come to our shows anymore. After deciding trying out for the Sing-Off was too far outside his comfort zone—" He put these two words in finger quotations. "—he kind of stopped talking to me. Some best friend. I think he's just jealous."

"Of what? Our tiny bus, our piddly paychecks, our embarrassing songs?" Kirstie, sporting a look he hadn't seen in almost three years—drab clothing, long black hair, glasses—shook her head in faint disgust. "I don't know why we keep doing this. We didn't even get onto the Sing-Off, no one wants to hear three twenty-something nobodies trying—and failing—to sing Katy Perry and Whitney Houston. We should just stop."

Avi felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. This couldn't be real—it just couldn't! He couldn't have dreamed all that success...could he have? They were Pentatonix! They had millions of fans; they sang and arranged music for a living—he and Scott and Kirstie and Kevin and Mitch...

He glanced back at Kirstie, ready to beg her to stop this farce—

—but Kirstie was gone. And so was Scott. He was alone in his room at his parents' house.

He stared at his bed, his closet of familiar clothes, his belongings—things he had missed like crazy more than once while on tour—but the sight of them was hardly comforting now. They had been performing with Kelly Clarkson, they'd been living the dream...he'd been living his dream...

There was a small knock at his door. Expecting anything, Avi turned and was surprised to see his very normal-looking sister poke her head into his room.

"Hey, Avi, Darien and I are going out for supper, wanna come?"

"Uhh," he replied coherently, "I don't know. I'm feeling kind of weird."

"Oh, baby Avi." She gave him an indulgent smile and stepped into the room. "Tell Momma Esther what she can do to make it better."

"Don't do that, Est. I just...I was having this crazy dream..."

"About what?"

"I don't know. I was in this band, and...and we were famous...and it was wonderful..."

"Aww, I hate when dreams like that end, don't you? C'mon, barbequed ribs will make everything better. And afterwards we can get you that baby dragon you've always wanted. Dad finally said it was okay."

Avi blinked. "Pardon?"

"A baby dragon. Maybe that little green flying one we saw last week. What do you think?"

Avi opened his mouth to reply. And began to laugh instead. He laughed until his eyes were wet.

Esther crossed her arms over her chest, clearly not amused. "What's so funny?" she demanded. "I thought you wanted a dragon."

He wiped at his eyes. "I did. I do," he told her, still catching his breath. "But..." He grit his teeth for a moment, loathe to admit what he knew deep down was true. "...Dragons. Aren't. Real."

And then he woke up.

Scott and Mitch were laughing loudly about something outside his bunk. Kirstie was trying to have a phone conversation over the noise. Kevin was practising somewhere on the bus. A phone somewhere was playing some ear-shattering dubstep...

It was the most beautiful din Avi had ever heard. He spent several minutes just soaking it in before forcing himself out of bed.