With the help of Regina's mom, Amy, the backing track for We Wish You a Merry Christmas had already been professionally recorded by studio musicians.
On Saturday afternoon, Mike accompanied the Plastics to the studio to record the actual vocals. Thanks to a talented sound engineer and some modern mixing magic, the girls' new track was fully polished by early evening.
Back at Regina's place, everyone gathered around the sound system to listen. As the festive tune filled the room, look of pure satisfaction washed over their faces.
"This is actually really good. It's high enough quality to be released as a Christmas single," Amy remarked. Having a broader perspective on the industry, her praise was more than just motherly encouragement.
Honestly, she was floored by Mike's musical talent. She'd originally thought this was just a fun little hobby for the kids, but Mike had managed to produce a top-tier holiday track.
"Really, Mom?" Regina asked, her eyes lighting up. "You think it's actually good enough to be a real single?"
While the "Queen Bee" thought her own singing sounded great, she didn't have a professional ear for quality. But at her age, who could resist the allure of fame? Especially Regina, who lived for the spotlight.
The other three girls—Gretchen, Karen, and Cady—instantly perked up at the conversation. It was clear they weren't immune to the dream of becoming pop stars either.
"Absolutely," Amy said confidently. "If you guys are down, I can use my connections to get this out there in time for the Christmas rush."
Amy might seem like she just spends her days being a "cool mom," but thanks to her husband's network, promoting a single was well within her wheelhouse.
"I'm in!" Regina agreed immediately, barely containing her excitement. She turned to her squad. "What do you guys think?"
Naturally, the girls had no objections to having their work heard by the world.
Once the group reached a consensus, Regina looked at Mike. "Mike, what do you think?"
Technically, as the sole songwriter and composer, Mike had the final say on what happened with the track.
"I'm totally fine with it," Mike said with a shrug.
"Great! I'll handle the release. Now, you kids should probably discuss how you're going to split the royalties," Amy said, showing a rare flash of business savvy. "I'll leave you to it while I go prep dinner. We're going to have a real celebration tonight!"
She hurried out of the room to start on a celebratory feast. In the music room, the girls—who hadn't yet been corrupted by the music industry—didn't really care about the money. Eventually, Mike suggested an even five-way split for the initial earnings. If the song actually blew up and generated serious revenue later, they'd cross that bridge when they got there. With no real concept of how much money that could be, the girls happily agreed.
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By Sunday, Amy was in full "manager mode." She dragged Mike and the Plastics out for a professional photoshoot for the song's promotional posters.
Normally, the songwriter stays behind the scenes, but Mike was way too photogenic to waste. Amy wasn't about to pass up such a great marketing hook. By noon, the posters were shot, and the promotional campaign was officially underway. Mike and the girls didn't have to worry about the logistics; Amy took over the "momager" role with gusto.
In America, Christmas is the biggest deal of the year—think of it as the ultimate Super Bowl of holidays. As the day approached, the town of Medford was buzzing. Strings of colorful lights draped across every street, and storefronts were decked out with massive trees, Santas, and reindeer.
At school, the teachers were giving the students plenty of free time. Afternoon gym classes were swapped for rehearsal blocks, with various cliques huddled in corners of the hallways and classrooms practicing their acts.
On Thursday afternoon, tucked away in a small private classroom, the Plastics were working hard on their instruments over the backing track.
"Regina, we've been at this for weeks. Why are your guitar transitions still so stiff?" Mike called out after a take, pointing out the Queen Bee's struggle.
Given the girls' limited experience, Mike had set the bar extremely low. They basically just had to "air guitar" convincingly while the track played. But even with those low standards, Regina was struggling.
"I'm trying! Maybe the guitar just isn't my instrument," Regina said, sounding a little discouraged. She really had been putting in the work, and Mike had seen her effort, but she just didn't have the "knack" for strings.
At this point, there was no use complaining.
Mike thought for a second. "That's on me. I should have considered that. Tell you what, Regina—swap the guitar for a tambourine. You'll be the lead singer, and the tambourine will just be a prop to keep your hands busy during the performance."
Being the lead singer is a sweet gig—half the time you just need a mic and a vibe.
"A tambourine? I can do that!" Regina traded her guitar for a set of beachy-looking hand bells and gave them a cheerful jingle.
The pressure of falling behind the others had been weighing on her. Now, she didn't have to worry about messing up a chord, and as the lead singer, she'd be front and center in the "C-position." It was exactly the kind of special treatment she loved.
"Mike, are you definitely coming on stage with us tomorrow?" Gretchen asked quietly. The usually reserved girl realized that a girl group performance needed someone to act as the "anchor."
Normally, that would be the drummer—Karen. And while Karen had a decent ear, she wasn't exactly ready to lead the rhythm of a live show.
"I'll be there on keyboards," Mike promised. He'd already seen this coming.
"Yes!" the girls cheered. They knew exactly how good Mike was. With him on stage, their confidence skyrocketed.
"Alright, we've still got time. Let's run it a few more times," Mike said, sitting down at the electric keyboard.
With Christmas just a day away, they didn't have much time left. With Mike's keyboard filling in the gaps and keeping everyone on beat, the rehearsal finally started to sound professional. By the time the final bell rang, they actually looked like a real band. They were officially ready for the school show.
Before heading out, Mike gathered them in a circle. "Let's kill it tomorrow. To a successful show!"
"To success!" they shouted, high-fiving each other.
"Oh, and the single officially drops tomorrow! My mom is making a huge dinner tonight—do you guys want to come over and celebrate?" Regina invited. Amy had pulled some serious strings to get the release date set for Christmas Day.
"I'll pass," Mike said. "Tomorrow is Christmas, and I've got a ton of stuff to help with at home. Let's save the big celebration for later."
In reality, Mike knew that in the massive US music market, a high school girl group's single probably wouldn't make a huge splash right away. There was no need to get ahead of themselves—plus, they'd already celebrated once when the recording was finished.