Spells Like Teen Spirit

by Kate M. Williams

  The phone was still ringing, and then all of a sudden it stopped, and was replaced by a gruff male voice. Oh my gosh! It was Phantom Limp’s answering machine. I hung up as quickly as I could.

  And just as quickly, they called back. “Shoot,” I said, looking up at Cassandra. “What do I do?” Wrong person to ask, obviously. As the phone was ringing, she wrenched it from my fingers, hit accept, and then passed it back to me.

  I stood there, wanting to strangle her with my eyes and maybe a shoelace, if I’d had one handy. A male voice from the phone said, “Hello? Someone from this number just called?”

  Cassandra stared at me expectantly, and then she stepped on my toe, hard. “Ouch! Shoot, uh, hi!” I said, putting on my I’m-just-a-responsible-babysitter voice. “My name is Esther, and I was calling because I’m interested in booking Phantom Limp for a dance at our school. I, uh, got this number off a Myspace page.”

  “Esther?” the voice said. “Are you that same kid who came by the house yesterday?”

  Kid? “Uuuh, yes, that was me. Is this Tom?” He grunted in affirmation, and then it sounded like he blew his nose. “Well, like I said when we met, you guys have a huge teenage fan base. Like, everyone at my school is obsessed with you.”

  “Oh yeah,” he said, then paused. “We’re actually called ‘Jump the Shark’ now, but we could be down to play this dance. You guys buy a lot of CDs?”

  “Tons,” I said. “I buy, like, dozens a week, and so does everyone I know.” I’d bought albums on vinyl before, but never on a CD and had no idea how much they cost. Maybe two bucks? I hoped that sounded right.

  “Wow, crap,” he said. “Bunch of rich kids, eh? That’s cool, though.”

  Ugh, so maybe I was off. But how much could a CD cost? I decided to let it slide, and forged ahead.

  “So, can I ask, why are you guys so into CDs?” I asked. “I mean, obviously it’s one of the many things I like about your band, but—”

  “Who’s not into CDs?” he said, cutting me off. “We don’t just want radio play. We want our album blasting in every car and from every stereo system.”

  “Yeah, totally,” I said, wishing there were someone else on the phone to witness this mind-boggling conversation. “So, anyway, our dance committee nominated me to call you and see if you guys would be interested in playing our school dance this Saturday night. I mean, I know it’s a long shot, and I told them, no way, Phantom—er, Jump the Shark is probably way too booked to spend a Saturday night playing for hundreds of kids who all just love CDs.”

  “How much can you pay?” he asked.

  Crap. I hadn’t even thought of that. “Three hundred dollars,” I guessed.

  “Okay,” Tom said. I guess I had guessed right? I decided to lean in.

  “It will be really good exposure. You see, I would never ask Jump the Shark to play a show for just three hundred dollars, but the head of our dance committee, her dad does A and R for Universal Music Group, and he’s going to be there on Saturday to chaperone, and we were brainstorming and we thought it would be really awesome to get you guys in front of him so that he can see, and hear of course, how good you are.”

  “Wow,” he said. “Universal? So this A and R guy, he work with 3 Doors Down?”

  Who the heck was that?

  “Yes,” I said enthusiastically, “all the time. Like, they’re so close that the band even calls him the fourth Door.” Cassandra was still staring at me, and a little smirk had crept onto her face, as she was clearly amused by the ever-growing amount of lies that I was pulling out of my butt here.

  “All right, all right, all right,” he said, now sounding more awake. “Let me talk to the guys and get back to you. Saturday night, you said? What time?”

  Ergh, I had no idea what time a band would play at the dance. “I can text you all the details,” I said, stalling.

  “What?” he asked, sounding confused.

  “I’ll text you,” I said.

  “You’ll do what?” he asked again.

  I floundered. “Um, I can call back with details,” I said. “Or you call me back, after you’ve checked with the guys.”

  “What’s your number?” he asked.

  “You can just call me on this one,” I said.

  “Yeah, but what is it?” he said, sounding annoyed, like I’d just asked him what toppings he wanted on his pepperoni pizza.

  “The one on your caller ID,” I said, since I didn’t know Janis’s number by heart.

  “Listen, kid,” he said, exasperated, “I ain’t got all day here. Just tell me the best number to call you back on, and then I’m going to talk to my band and call you back on that number, that you’re going to give me, and we’re going to play your stupid high school dance so that we can get a record deal.”

  I didn’t understand why he was treating me like I was the one who wasn’t getting it, and I was glad that we weren’t face to face, because I’m sure I would have been looking at him like he was something I’d stepped in at the dog park. “Of course, of course,” I said, and recited my number. “I might be in class, so if I am, just leave a message and I’ll check it when I get home.”

  “Cool, cool,” he said. “Then you can call me back when you get my message, and if we’re out playing a gig or something, then you can just leave a message for me and I’ll call you back.” I stifled a groan.

  “Sure, sure,” I said, then added, “Thanks, Tom. We’re soooo excited.” This was already shaping up to be more phone calls than I’d made in the past year. I couldn’t imagine how much time people wasted actually talking to each other before texting.

  I hung up the phone and thought for a second. Nothing about that interaction made sense. “Wait,” I said, reaching out and grabbing on to Cassandra’s sleeve. “Those photos of the band with your dad, when do you think those were taken again?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “Early 2000s, probably?”

  “Oh my God,” I said. “That’s why they won’t text and why they’re obsessed with CDs!”

  “What are you talking about?” Cassandra asked.

  “What if they don’t just look like they’re living in 2002?” I said. “What if they actually are? What kind of spell does that?”

  “One that did not work correctly, I bet,” she said. She stopped for a second and grinned. “Now I’m even more excited about Saturday!”

  “Stop smiling,” I said to Cassandra. “We’re all going straight to heck for what I just did. Even if Janis somehow pulls this off, it’s not a good idea. We don’t know anything about these guys. We could be putting the whole school in danger.”

  “Oh, come on, Esme,” Cassandra said. “Like we can’t protect a school.” She was looking just over my shoulder, and I turned around to see Janis heading back toward us, a huge grin on her face.

  “We’re in,” she said, walking up.

  “What do you mean we?” I asked.

  “You and me,” she said. “We’re on the dance committee.”

  “What about Cassandra?” I asked.

  “She doesn’t do school activities,” she said at the same time that Cassandra said, “I don’t do school activities.”

  I looked back at Janis. “And since when have I done school activities either?” I asked, but they both ignored my question.

  “Kendra seemed really open to my ideas about the music,” Janis said, seeming actually excited. “So now we just have to book the band.”

  “Esme just did,” Cassandra said, reaching out and hitting me on the shoulder again. “And she was spectacular.” Janis looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

  I puffed out my cheeks in an exhale. “I told them that the head of the dance committee’s dad did A and R for Universal, and that he was close with 3 Doors Down,” I said.

  “What’s that?” Janis asked.

  �
��Some band Tom likes,” I said, and filled Janis in on my frozen-in-the-aughts theory.

  “Wow,” she said, whipping out her phone. She Googled something and then quickly scanned the results. Then she looked back up at me. “I think you’re right,” she said. “I just looked up 3 Doors Down, and Wikipedia says that they released their most popular album in 2000, and ewwww!” Her lip curled up in disgust. “They played Trump’s inauguration! That seems just like the kind of band these losers would be into.”

  I nodded. “Anyway, it sounds like they’re interested. We just have to call them back with details. Oh, and they’re called ‘Jump the Shark’ now.”

  “Of course,” Janis said, rolling her eyes. “This is totally going to work out!”

  “I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said.

  “So what if it’s a bad one?” Cassandra said. “It’s our only idea.”

  “Dance committee meeting today in the library after school,” Janis said with a smile. “Don’t be late.”

  I watched my two best friends and co-conspirators head happily in opposite directions down the hall, and I groaned. Everything about tricking the band, the dance committee, and probably the entire student body, was wrong. It was breaking a million rules in the Sitter books, but as I made my way to class, weaving through the hallway throng like a salmon flopping its way upstream, I had to admit that I didn’t really feel all that bad about it.

  School went by in a flash, and after the last bell I walked to the library and waited outside for Janis. I could spot her inside-out jacket from down the hall as she approached.

  “I’m so excited,” she said, grinning as she got close. “And this is perfect, because I’ve been needing to get a few more extracurriculars in anyway.” It sounded like she thought we were actually joining the dance committee.

  She pushed through the library doors, and I followed, buoying along in her wake. I’d never had a ton of interaction with my fellow students, but since I’d started Sitting, that had dropped to practically zero. Which, really, was fine with me. When it came to popularity, I’d never stood a chance, but Janis was different. Janis was better than popular. She was cool, and people knew it. It didn’t seem totally out of whack for the Kendras of the world to think that having Janis Jackson on your dance committee, even if it was just for forty-eight hours, would make the dance better.

  Over in the corner of the library, a group of students had gathered, and Janis and I made our way to them and perched on a table just a few feet from the main group.

  “So, what did you tell them about this band?” I asked her in a quiet voice.

  “I told them that you were one of their biggest fans,” she whispered back. “So you could explain it better than I could.”

  “Janis! Why would you do that?”

  “You’ve met one of the members, and you got his autograph! You know way more about them than me,” she said. “Besides, you’re so much more articulate when it comes to talking about music.”

  I sighed. “I’m articulate when I talk about music that I’ve actually heard,” I said. “We still have no idea what this band, whatever their name is this afternoon, sounds like.”

  “Maybe they’re good,” she said, and I was stopped from making a barfing sound by the sudden arrival of Kendra, who had appeared and was calling the meeting to order.

  “Hey, gang,” she said. “I hope you’ve all had a chance to check out the totally dope banner that Karen and I hung up in the hall this morning. It caused a big commotion because people were so excited. Karen painted it herself, and she killed it.”

  Kendra smiled over at Karen, her partner in ladder-jamming the hallway, and Karen grinned.

  “Kendra, you’re just being nice,” she said with false modesty. “But yeah, it did turn out really dope. I wanted to go with something fresh and modern, to show people that this isn’t just another traditional Valentine’s Day dance.”

  Was Karen serious? The banner was pink paper covered with red hearts—what part of that was fresh or modern?

  “And,” Kendra went on, “we have a couple of new people joining the committee today. I know it’s a little unorthodox to have people join so late in the game, but Janis and Emily”—with a start, I realized that I was the Emily to which she was referring—“saw Karen’s totally dope banner and were so excited that they wanted to get involved with the dance, and Janis and I had a great convo this morning, and I thought she had some really great ideas and total passion for the dance, so I made an executive decision to let them join.” Oh, jeez. This girl talked like we were supposed to lick her shoes in gratitude. “Janis, maybe you’d like to share some of your ideas about music with the group?”

  “Sure thing, Kendra,” Janis said, turning on a thousand-watt smile. “I think it would be totally dope if we hired a band.” I had never before heard Janis say “dope,” but when in Rome…

  Kendra’s smile faltered. “A band?” she said. “When you said you had ideas about the music, I thought you meant, like, a rapper or a DJ or something….”

  If they gave out Oscars for Best Performance in Pretending Not to Notice Casual Racism, Janis would win. Sadly, she had a lot of practice for the role.

  “We already have a DJ,” someone else on the committee pointed out.

  “But a band is so much more interactive,” Janis said before turning to me. “Esme, tell them about this band.”

  “Well—well, uh…,” I started, “they’re called ‘Jump the Shark,’ and they make music, and there are four of them. There’s a guitar, and some drums, and their music is best described as a sound. I mean, when they’re playing, you definitely notice that there is noise…happening…and it’s super different from when they’re not playing.” I cleared my throat. “They’re totally dope,” I said finally, summing it up.

  “So, do they play covers?” asked a guy in a long-sleeved polo shirt so tight that you could see his nipples.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s all original songs,” I said.

  “So, the whole night we’d be listening to music that no one has ever heard of?” asked a girl in a hoodie and Uggs.

  “Yeah, I guess,” I said.

  “You’d be totally introducing people to new music,” Janis said. None of this seemed to be winning anyone over, and Kendra’s morning hallway enthusiasm for Janis’s ideas and participation seemed to be waning. The room was so quiet, I could hear the girl in Uggs chewing her gum. “Come on,” Janis urged. “Do people really want to spend the Valentine’s Day dance dancing to the same three songs they hear on the radio all day?”

  “Yes!” Karen practically screeched. “That is exactly what people want to do at the school dance.” She turned to Kendra. “Honestly, this is the worst idea that I’ve ever heard. Even if this band were the next Maroon 5—which I highly doubt they are—I don’t understand why we’re proposing changing our plan so last-minute!”

  “I just really want to book this band to play the dance,” Janis said plainly.

  “And people in hell want Popsicles,” Karen said, crossing her arms and staring Janis down.

  “Okay, how about a vote?” Janis said, powering through. “Everyone in favor of ditching a predictable old DJ and hiring a groundbreaking band, raise your hand?” Janis and I raised our hands.

  “Now,” Karen said, “everyone in favor of sticking with our plan and not murdering our Valentine’s Day dance by hiring an awful band that no one but two latecomers has ever heard of, raise your hand!” Everyone else raised their hands. Janis made a show of counting, but the vote was clearly eleven to two. Not surprising. Not surprising at all.

  Kendra turned to us. “Thanks for coming,” she said. “We appreciate hearing from the community.”

  “Well,” Janis huffed, standing up. “It looks like the dance committee just wasn’t for us.”

  “See you on Saturd
ay,” Karen called after us as we walked out of the library.

  As soon as we were back in the hallway, I turned to Janis. “That was a total disaster,” I moaned, but Janis just smiled.

  “You didn’t actually think I thought that would work, did you?” she asked.

  “Uh, yeah, I did,” I said, confused now. “Janis, we just made total fools out of ourselves in front of eleven of our fellow students. Not that I care, because they are a committee led by a racist and a literal Karen, but still, there are so many other things we could have been doing with those minutes of our lives.” I started to walk out to the parking lot, but Janis caught me by the sleeve.

  “I just figured it’s always better to try the non-magical option first,” she said, not letting go of my sleeve.

  “Wait, so what’s the magical option?” I said, shaking my arm loose. I didn’t like being restrained by anyone, even my best friend.

  “You go in there and spell them into thinking it’s a great idea,” she said, then snapped her fingers. “Even better! Make them think it’s their idea!”

  “Janis! I can’t just go in there and cast a spell on eleven people,” I said. “I’m supposed to be protecting the innocent and—”

  “Ha,” Janis scoffed. “Like anyone at this school is innocent.”

  She had a point there, and I racked my brain trying to think of someone…

  “Nurse Beth,” I said finally. “She’s always been so sweet, and she let me go home that one time when all I had was a super-itchy mosquito bite—”

  “The school nurse?” Janis asked. “Protecting the school nurse is why you think we can’t make this happen. Esme, why would she even be at the dance?”

  “You know someone’s going to get alcohol poisoning,” I said. “Every Spring River event guest stars at least one EMT.”