I'm standing in the middle of Stade de France's field with my thumb out in front of me and one eye closed.

"Do you see it?" Nicky asks from beside me.

"No."

"Tilt your head to the side a little."

I do it and say, "The stage looks fine to me. Maybe I'm not cut out for this part of the safety check."

He rubs my back. "Don't get frustrated. Sometimes I have a hard time seeing it too. You know what used to help me? Laying on my stomach and looking up at it."

"Really?" I ask, scrunching my face.

My brother nods.

"All right." I lay in the grass and try again.

"Now do the thumb thing."

I use my thumb as a base point and close one eye, hoping it helps. It doesn't, so I try the same thing with the other eye. I might as well just close them both and agree with Nicky; it's perfect to me.

Oscar walks over and follows my gaze. "What are you looking at?"

I switch eyes and try again. "Nicky says he saw the stage shift while you guys were doing the soundcheck, and I can't see it."

"Yeah, I see it. Try with both thumbs," Oscar says chuckling.

I extend both thumbs and stop, looking at the two men over my shoulder. Nicky stands over me with his cell phone out recording me, and they both laugh.

I jump to my feet and brush the grass from my clothes. "Nicholas, you are a total ballsack!"

Oscar raises a thick eyebrow, and another round of laughter escapes him. I like his laugh and the way his face lights up. This big, strong man is one of the nicest people I've ever met. Although he likes to spend a lot of time alone, he seems to have a sixth sense for when I'm feeling down and need a friend. He's one reason I enjoy being on this tour.

"Come on, this is how we initiate newbies into the company. Dad did the same thing to me. I promised him I would send a video," Nicky says, hitting send and putting his phone into his pocket.

I can't be mad; there is solace in knowing Dad will get a good laugh out of me acting like a naïve moron. "You guys suck," I say pulling my fist back like I'm going to punch Nicky in his stomach.

"Do you want to let your brother live one more day and come wreak a little havoc with me?" Oscar asks.

"Sure." I flash Nicky a dirty look. "Watch your back, big brother."

Oscar and I zigzag through the backstage to the massive truck-bay where they store the stage equipment. They have cleared the open space, and Ridley and Seb are driving golf carts, weaving in and out of trash cans set up as obstacles. The two yell obscenities at each other, racing around the track. Eagin stands against the far wall with his hands in his pockets, laughing as he waits for them to cross the makeshift finish line of blue tape on the floor. Seb bolts across first and is called the winner.

"That's bullshit!" Ridley jumps out of the cart, her infectious laughter reverberating around us. Ridley rushes Seb, wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him to the floor in a squabble filled insincere protests.

"Are you going to do it?" Eagin asks me.

"I don't know," I shake my head at Ridley, who has Seb in a headlock, "It tends to turn violent."

Ridley releases Seb and her face lights up. "Let's make teams of two. Once you make it to the end of the course, switch places and drive back. First ones out of their carts win."

"What are we doing?" Seb asks.

Ridley shakes her head. "A race, dumbass."

"Yes, let's do this! Ladies first. Who do you pick, A.J.?" Seb smirks at Ridley, and she mouths you're dead.

My competitive nature is evoked. I study each of them, determining who will be my best bet for a win. Seb won the last race, but he's easily distracted and not prone to listening to instructions. Oscar isn't cutthroat enough, and his good nature will have him driving carefully as to not harm his friends. That leaves me with Ridley or Eagin. I do a mental Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe and end up choosing Eagin.

"Who do you want to race against?" Eagin asks.

"Oscar and Seb." I'm terrible, picking my first two eliminations.

We take our places in the golf carts, and Ridley stands between as the referee. Eagin runs his hands over the steering wheel, mumbling to himself. As long as he can stay focused longer than Seb, we can win the race.

Ridley raises her hands over her head and says, "On your marks, get set...go!"

Eagin presses on the accelerator, and I slam back in my seat. He's a terrible driver, sideswiping the trash cans. I holler directions in between fits of laughter, but it does little to help. I might need to pull off a miracle for us to win this. Thank God for the hours Dad spent teaching me military-style defensive driving. This win is going to be up to me.

We reach the other end, and Oscar is yelling at Seb to get out of the cart and change places with him. Eagin and I high five as we seamlessly crisscross in front of the cart. I bend to take the driver's seat just as Seb moves to sit back down in his cart. I reach for Seb's shirt to slow him down, but he grabs me by the waist and pulls me away from my golf cart. He tries to take me with him and Oscar, leaving Eagin to fend for himself. I dig my fingers into Seb's armpit, wiggling them back and forth. He screams and lets me go, and I bolt back to my cart.

I slam on the gas before my butt hits the seat, and we fly forward. It's a breeze getting around the cans, and I gain a small lead over Oscar. It's a head-to-head race until Oscar almost collides with the final obstacle. I drive past him and give a dainty wave goodbye. We cross the blue tape on the floor, and Ridley calls the race in Eagin and my favor.

We jump out of the vehicle and do a victory dance. I shimmy over to where Seb and Oscar are standing and continue my show of poor sportsmanship right in front of them. Oscar looks over at his teammate and rushes forward, wrapping his arms around my waist. He lifts me off the ground, and I pound on his shoulder, begging him to put me down when he spins us around. As we twirl, I catch sight of someone leaning against the wall by the doors.

Kade has a 1000-watt smile on his face.