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“Chill out, Reena, we’re gonna kill this.” Pearl thumped her bandmate a little too hard against her back, causing the ‘weird Inkling kid’ to jump into the air and knock over her keytar in the dimly-lit backstage. Well, shit, that wasn’t what she was going for.
“Kill?” Marina asked, eyes wide with fear, “No kill! I don’t want… to kill anyone! Just play music!”
Oh, right, and she was still learning Inklish. Well, that was on Pearl for using a stupid metaphor.
“Hey, no, nobody’s getting splatted, we’re good. I mean, uh, we’re gonna crush—er, not that… look, we got this in the bag, alright?”
Marina gave an inquisitive look to her costume bag and back to Pearl. Putting a hand to her face and drawing in a deep breath, Pearl squawked out her last clarification, before her nerves got her.
“WE’RE GONNA WIN, ‘KAY?”
A few heads turned from the other teams, though Pearl expected as much. She was naturally loud-mouthed, and in order to join this competition with Marina she had to sign a waiver covering any of the equipment she broke with her booming voice. That was all fine, though. As long as she and Marina got their time in the spotlight, things would go up from there.
“You are sure, Pearl?” Reena was still soothing herself, wrapping her hair tentacles around her fingers and unfurling them over and over. Man, it’d be cool if Pearl could do that. Everything about Marina was cool, really. If only she got that. Until she did, though, Pearl would have to be confident for the both of them. She wormed her own blocky fingers between Marina’s soft, slender ones, turquoise at their tips, and looked her confidently in the eye until her bandmate returned her gaze—even if she was still flushed.
“Marina, I wouldn’t have made Off the Hook with you if I didn’t think your music was amazing. And I do! You’re a crazy talented DJ, your voice is fishing gorgeous, you can do things with lighting and sound mixing I’ve never even heard of before, and you’ve got stage appeal for DAYS. I mean, look at you!! Sheesh!! I feel like I’m gonna be fried calamari just looking at you, because you’re sizzling!”
“Sizzl…ing?” Her bandmate’s cheeks flushed even deeper with her turquoise ink, and she placed her other hand against her forehead as if to check if she were burning.
“Uh, well, I mean, it means you’re, uh…” Now Pearl was the one to avert her eyes in embarrassment, “…really pretty. Which anyone with eyes can tell, ‘Reena, trust me. That outfit? Perfect on you.”
It was true, too; Marina had picked it out herself with Pearl’s personal outfit designer—a black cropped top with a zipper to match Pearl’s dress, and sleek metallic shorts paired with leggings that matched her ink color. It was the sort of outfit that was a real head-turner, but Pearl was plenty prepared to splat anyone who looked at Marina the wrong way.
“Then you are sizzling, too, Pearlie!” Marina returned, a bright smile on her face. Cod, Pearl would kill for this kid.
“Pssh, yeah, I know that much, ‘Reena. Now, you remember our motto? Don’t get cooked…”
“Stay Off the Hook!” Marina chirped, hitting their call-and-response perfectly. Good.
“Trust me, Marina, you stick with me, we’re gonna take over Inkopolis one day! You and me against the world, baby.” Pearl flexed her admittedly-puny arms and shot a wink at her bandmate. Confidence.
“You and me against the world, Pearlie.” Marina winked back, melting something inside Pearl’s punk-black heart.
“O-KAY! Off the Hook, you’re up next,” called the stage manager, waving the girls on.
“Pearlie?” Marina called, lifting her keytar to her shoulder.
“Yeah, ‘Reena?” Pearl replied, doing a few hops to warm up.
“We’re gonna kill this,” Marina grinned, holding out her fist.
All that, and Marina was maybe the bravest person Pearl knew. She returned the fist bump, miming an explosion on impact complete with a bwoosh.
“Booyah, ‘Reena. Let’s get ‘em.”