The show had a medic check me out before they let me do anything else. She said one of my ankles was twisted and told me to ice it and stay off my feet for a day or two. Someone found me some flip flops, and then we had another interview with Ray about how we felt about the performance. He said I was really brave, but I replied that I just didn’t want to let the other guys down. When he asked them what they thought, Jared leaned into the mic and said, “I nearly had a heart attack when she fell off stage, so I’m just happy she’s okay.”

We had to return to the stage with all the other bands on Team Dan one more time to wave while Ray reminded everyone at home how to vote, and the other musicians all patted me on the back and asked if I was okay. I may have fallen, but this felt like a victory.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

By the time we got back to the hotel, I didn’t think I could keep my eyes open even a second longer. Plus my ankle had started to throb now that the buzz from the performance had worn off. Even breathing seemed tough. Maybe I was more beat up from the fall than I’d thought.

I wanted to crawl right into bed, but the guys said we should check the Internet and see what people were saying about us. I was too tired to argue and soon found myself in their room again, sitting beside Jared on the bed while he opened up his laptop.

“Don’t forget to vote for us, too,” Kyle said. “And remind everyone to vote by 10 AM tomorrow.”

I checked my phone and saw that Carla and Julie had been sending me panicked texts for the last hour or so. I texted them back that I was okay and reminded them to vote for us. I’d call them both tomorrow and give them the full scoop when I wasn’t so tired. That reminded me: I’d never called my mom like I’d promised Julie I would. I’d meant to do it, but things had been so busy these past few days and I’d completely forgotten. Yet another thing to add to my to-do list.

“Holy shit,” Jared said, staring at his screen. “Our Twitter account shot up to thirty thousand followers tonight.”

“Thirty thousand?” I asked, choking out the words. Last I’d heard, we were at ten thousand. Kyle and Hector crowded around us to see the screen, and Hector whistled.

“That’s good, right?” Kyle asked. “That means we’re going to get enough votes to stay this week?”

“Maybe,” Jared said. “Some of the other bands have fifty thousand. We should post more photos on Instagram and Tumblr. That might bring in more fans.”