Evan's parents were downstairs having Jet's Pizza for dinner. They weren't talking. Evan noticed they talked much less these days, as most conversations dissolved into either panic-inducing diatribes about the future or withering, regret-laden musings on the past. Both situations always ended with Evan's mother in tears and his father red-faced and swaggering off to another room or out the front door.

Evan entered and sat down at the table. He asserted himself.

"I've decided I'm trying out for American Idol in Nashville this year," he announced. "I looked up the auditions. Nashville is the closest and it's on Saturday."

Both his parents looked flabbergasted.

"You're what?"

"I'm trying out for American Idol," said Evan. "In Nashville."

"Why the hell are you going to do that?" asked his dad.

"Because life is short, and I want to do it. And we need money."

His parents sat there with their half-eaten pizza slices in their hands and their mouths open. They glanced at each other.

"Since when are you worried about whether or not we have enough money?"

"I've offered to pay rent," said Evan. "I've told you guys I'm willing to contribute."

"Yeah, and we appreciate it," said his dad. "But I'm not gonna charge my kid rent to live with me. I told you, as long as you're working and going to school, don't worry about it."

"Well, if I get on TV I'll have way more money than I would working as a janitor."

"I've never even heard you sing," said his mother. She was an overweight, straw-haired woman who worked part time behind the customer service counter at Kroger's.

"I've been practicing in my car for years," Evan explained.

This was true.

"I want to try. Even if I humiliate myself, I could still maybe get us some money. It's what I want to do."

"I didn't even know you watched that show," said his father. He was also overweight, albeit more imposing and muscular in the shoulders, grey-mustached and wearing his ever-present camo hat to cover his receding hairline. He hunted deer in November and until the Recession he'd worked as an electrician at the Ford plant in Dearborn. After losing that job, he'd found work elsewhere at a few factories around the Metro area, but none paid what he'd made at Ford, and he'd been laid off twice.

"Maddie watches it," said Evan. "I watched it with her this year. I'd always watched the auditions for the idiots and the freaks but this year I watched the whole thing right up to the finale."

"And who are you going with to this audition in Nashville?"

"I was thinking of asking Brian. He's unemployed so he's always free."

"Brian Dinkins?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't he the one who threw the propane tank into the bonfire last summer?"

"Yeah, why?"

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

"I don't know how I feel about that."

"Well, I haven't made up my mind yet. If Matt can get work off I'll take him."

"You think your car can make it down there and back?"

"Sure," said Evan. "It's only got 90 thousand miles on it. It's more than up to the task."

Three years ago, with his parents' help, Evan had bought a used silver 2002 Honda Civic from a Korean student in Ann Arbor. It was part birthday gift part-I-need-a-car-if-I-need-a-job. Despite its age and mileage it had proven to be reliable little vehicle. He'd never even needed to have it towed.

"And you didn't feel the need to tell us about any of this until now because?"

"I was thinking about it and I was probably gonna but then Jason killed himself," said Evan. "And now I definitely have to do it."

Evan saw his parents wince slightly when he said Jason's name. Evan felt sorry about that but at this point he would call it like it is. Jason had always said, it was better to just admit a hard truth-- piss everyone off and get it over with rather than piss everyone off by dancing around it and being a pussy.

"It's free to audition, and I have the money for the trip. Kensington pays decent and I have overtime coming from staying all day on the Fourth so the bathrooms could get cleaned twice. I can afford the gas and the hotel room. It's three days plus two for travel. I'm going."

"When are you leaving?"

"Wednesday. I already took work off," he said. He hadn't-- he would deal with that when he got his check on Wednesday morning. "I'll be back Sunday, probably."

Evan's mother shook her head.

"What is it with your generation and wanting attention? I just don't understand it."

"I don't understand it either, but our family needs money. And the sob story will play really well with the cameras."

"You don't need to worry about whether this family has money," said his father. "You need to worry about whether you have money."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt," said his mother, looking worried as ever.

"Why would I get hurt?"

"They're really mean to some of those people. And you've never even sang in public."

"Mom, that's television. If I even make it that far, it won't matter. I don't think I'm bad enough to make it that far anyway."

"Sing for us now," said his father. "Let's hear it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Cause it's not the right moment," said Evan.

His parents stared at him.

"You think you're good enough to get in?"

"Probably not, but my story is what's interesting. I have a veteran brother who just committed suicide and my little sister is hospitalized because she found him."

Evan's parents stared at him some more.

"I'm just saying, that'll play really well, with the cameras..."

More stares.

"I'm just saying..."

"You think exploiting your suicidal veteran brother and your traumatized younger sister on national television so you can be a rock star is okay?" his father thundered.

"If it makes us rich, yes," said Evan. "We can pay for Maddie's treatment, the whole thing. I can take care of all your guys' debt. I can buy you guys a better house. Ryan Seacrest said when he got rich the best thing about it was buying his mother a house. Isn't this at least worth a try?"

"You can do whatever you want, Evan," said his father, remembering the pizza slice in his hand. He chomped into it.

"Military suicides are on track to surpass combat deaths within the next couple years. You can't tell me there's an easier sell than that."

"What the hell do you mean by 'easier sell'?" his father growled.

"I just mean, the producers will pick up on it. I'll be more likely to get on TV, regardless of how good I am. If I get on TV, I get paid."

"No one's arguing with you that it might get attention," said his mother. "That's the problem! I don't want to have to talk about what just happened to us in front of the whole damn country!"

"You won't," said Evan. "I will. I'll do the talking. They can't force you on TV unless you sign a release. Just say you won't sign the release. If it ever even comes to that."

Evan's mom shook her head.

"Evan, this is out of nowhere..."

"Look, all these people just show up for these auditions and they get picked," Evan said. "And a year ago, nobody knew who any of them were. Now, Lee DeWyze, the guy who just won? He's some nobody from Chicago. Absolute nobody, just like me, and how he's going to be a millionaire before the year's over, completely regardless of whether or not he's even successful."

There was silence as Evan's mother looked sadly at her plate and his father chewed a little too rapidly.

"What do you think Jason would've said about this?" Evan's father asked after swallowing.

"I think he would've been fine with it," said Evan.

He considered, then went on.

"But that doesn't matter now. It's not like he's gonna care. He made his decision."

Evan's dad looked like he was might hit Evan, but instead he took a deep breath.

"Go for it," he said gruffly. "Just don't go alone. I want a full report before you leave on Wednesday."

With that, he took his plate, got up, walked into the den and slammed the door.

"Will do," said Evan.

Evan's mother began crying again.