This Song Will Save Your Life

I said nothing. Because I didn’t believe that at all. People are who they are and, try as you might, you ca

Side by side, Pippa and I watched the rest of the Dirty Curtains’ set together. Vicky had the audience in the palm of her hand. She shone brighter than any camera flash in the whole club.

When the last song drew to a close, the room burst into applause. Vicky pointed at me and shouted into her mic, “Thank you, DJ Elise, for booking us to play, and for being Glendale’s hottest DJ!”

I blushed and rolled my eyes, but the applause somehow grew even louder as all eyes and cameras turned to me.

“We love you, Elise!” Vicky called.

The crowd picked up the cry. “We love you, Elise! We love you!”

I let this go on for another few seconds before I started up the turntables again and pressed play on the Pulp song “Common People.” There was a collective shriek of excitement, and then the room exploded back into motion.

I looked out over the crowd and breathed in deeply. All this was mine.

In a way, Amelia Kindl had been right when she once said to me, “I saved your life.” She was right, but not in the way she meant it. When she saw the suicide note on Elise Dembowski’s Super-Secret Diary and called my father, she set into motion the chain of events that led to me being in the DJ booth tonight. And that, in a way, had saved my life.

I was playing the Justice vs. Simian song “We Are Your Friends,” and everyone was jumping and flailing and singing along—“Because we are your friends, you’ll never be alone again, well come on!”—when Harry approached the DJ booth. “Hey!” he yelled up to me. “Is it okay if I…?”

“Of course!” I waved him up.

He climbed in next to me. “You are doing such a good job,” he blurted out at the same time that I said, “You guys rocked!”

We both laughed.

“Seriously, you were awesome,” I said. “I had no idea the Dirty Curtains were so good.”

“Me neither!” Harry beamed. “And you know what? There was this old dude in the audience, and he’s in some famous seventies band, and he told Vicky he thinks the Dirty Curtains could really be going places, and he wants to introduce us to his manager! Is that insane or what?”

I cracked up. I couldn’t help myself. I looked across the bar to my dad, who was chatting with the bartender. “You’re right,” I said to Harry. “That’s insane.”

“Okay, now let’s talk about how this is the best party I have ever been to in my entire life,” Harry said. “Like, even better than my seventh birthday party when my mom bought me a Star Wars cake and we played Pin the Light Saber on the Jedi. Okay, just kidding, that was actually my thirteenth birthday.”

I laughed again. “Hey, Harry,” I said, and then I stopped.

“Yes, Elise?”

I swallowed. “Do you want to go to a way less exciting party tomorrow night?”

“With you?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. It’s called the Glendale High Freshman/Sophomore Summer Formal. It’s in the school gym.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll totally go to that with you.”

We looked at each other and smiled. We were still looking at each other when the sound cut out.

I registered the shock on Harry’s face an instant before I realized that the music had stopped. Frantic, I fumbled with the computer, the mixer, the wires, everything, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. I couldn’t find the problem. I didn’t know. Char had been right: I was too young, too inexperienced, and of course I had screwed this up. And he wasn’t here; there was nobody to rescue me from silence.

Only there was no silence.

Everyone in that room kept singing, as though the music was still with them—no, more than singing, screaming really, insistent, off-tune, beautiful.

“Because we! are! your friends! you’ll never be alone again! Well, come on! Well, come on! Well, come on! Well, come on!”

Their hands were in the air, raised toward me, heads thrown back, a spi

“Because we are your friends, you’ll never be alone again!”

And for the first time in my life, I knew that was true.

I caught my breath, took a big gulp of water, and smiled. My party raged on.

You think it’s so easy to change yourself. You think it’s so easy, but it’s not. True, things don’t stay the same forever: couches are replaced, boys leave, you discover a song, your body becomes forever scarred. And with each of these moments you change and change again, your true self spi

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am lucky to have so many supportive friends in my life, and it is thanks to their combined efforts that This Song Will Save Your Life came into being.

Thanks first and foremost to Joy Peskin, who is not only a friend to me, but also an extraordinary mentor, inspiration, teacher, and editor, too. I have been so fortunate to get to work with you over the years.

To the whole of Foundry Literary + Media, especially my agent, Stephen Barbara, for the devotion with which you take care of my career, and of me.

To the entire team at Farrar Straus Giroux, for welcoming me with such enthusiasm. Special thanks to Angie Chen, whose editorial insight is matched only by her talent with a pair of knitting needles; Elizabeth H. Clark, for the gorgeous cover design; and Kathryn Little and Molly Brouillette, for their energy and creativity.

To my copy editor and best parade-going friend, Kate Ritchey. There are no grammatical errors in this book. And if there are, that’s my fault, not Kate’s.

To my writing partner, Rebecca Serle, for dreaming big, and for daring me to dream even bigger.

To Katie Hanson, for sharing with me such a wonderful home for a writer to create.

To my parents, Amy Sales and Michael Sales, for, well, basically everything.

To all the DJs who have knowingly or unknowingly helped change my life. Special thanks to New York nightlife legend and international scenester, DJing skills consultant, and the voice of our generation, DJ VH1 (aka Brendan Sullivan). And to DJ Brian Blackout (aka Brian Pe

To the book How to DJ Right: The Art and Science of Playing Records, by Frank Broughten and Bill Brewster, for showing me how to write about DJing right.

To my favorite dance-floor partners, including but not limited to Emily Haydock, Emily Heddleson, Kendra Levin, and Allison Smith.

Finally, thanks to all the dance parties that inspired and informed this novel, especially these: from Bristol, Ramshackle and Klub Kute; from New York City, Motherf*cker and Mondo; and from Boston, the Pill and, of course, Start.

RECOMMENDED LISTENING

The Start that Elise goes to doesn’t really exist, but there are indie dance nights all over the world that it’s based on. Here’s a list of some of the songs you might hear if you went to one of these parties—or if you start your own! Remember, good new music is released all the time, so this list is just to start you off.

“The Boy with the Arab Strap,” by Belle and Sebastian

“Girls and Boys,” by Blur

“Ca

“Dancing in the Dark,” by Bruce Springsteen

“Train in Vain,” by the Clash

“It’s Friday, I’m in Love,” by the Cure

“Just Like Heaven,” by the Cure