“Some of these people have been waiting for two hours already.” He sighed and leaned back against the wall. “We’re going to be here forever.”

Hector grunted. “Unless the mentors pick all their team members before we even get in.”

“Don’t even say that,” Jared said. “Just don’t.”

“Relax, that’s not going to happen,” Kyle said.

Other bands got called up and then disappeared, never to return. It was impossible to know from this room what happened to them or what our competition was like. The longer we waited, the more I was convinced that Hector was right and the mentors would fill up their teams before we got a chance to audition. No, that’d be too easy. It was more likely we’d get on stage and I’d screw up horribly, and it would be my fault the band wasn’t picked for the show. How could the other guys trust me with something this big?

Our number was finally called thirty minutes later, and we all rushed to the desk at the front of the room. A woman with a high ponytail and a polo shirt with the show’s logo on it grabbed four clipboards and shoved them at us.

“This is the show’s contract. Each of you need to print your name and the date and sign it at the end.”

I tried to read the small print, but there was just so much of it. Pages and pages of legalese I didn’t understand. The guys looked just as baffled, except Jared, who was actually reading the thing like it was interesting.

“It’s all pretty standard stuff,” the woman said, sounding annoyed that we weren’t signing it immediately. She started ticking things off on her fingers. “If you’re selected during the audition, you agree to be on the show for the next five weeks. The show will pay for your hotel, plus a small living stipend. Any songs you record for the show will be sold on the website, and you’ll receive ten percent of the profits. If you’re one of the final four bands, you agree to go on tour in August, and if you win, you receive a recording contract from Mix It Up Records.”

“Um, should I sign this if I’m only a temporary member of the band?” I asked while I flicked through it.

“No changes in band members for the duration of the show, including the audition,” the woman snapped. “It’s right there on page four.”

“No changes?” I nearly dropped the clipboard. If I did this audition, I’d be stuck with the band for as long as they were on the show. Or even longer, if we made it to the final four and were sent on tour. That would be the entire summer—and my internship started next Monday. There was no way I could do both.