“You don’t believe me, do you?” Her mouth curves up into a smile.
“Even if you can sing, you’d have to know all the words to our song,” Faith says.
I turn to my bandmates. “We’re just going to have to make do without a backup singer. Maybe no one will notice.” Which I know is a lie. Everyone’s going to notice. They might not be able to figure out what’s different, but they’ll be able to tell that there’s something off about the song.
This is a complete disaster.
“We don’t really have—” Claudia’s saying when from behind me, someone bursts into the opening lines of “Hear Us Roar.”
I spin around. It’s Mariah. Her hands are lifted slightly in front of her, almost like she’s going to rest her fingers on piano keys, her eyes are closed, and she’s singing our song for all she’s worth.
And, ugh. She’s good.
Really good.
It takes almost a full minute before I can stop staring at her long enough to glance at Faith and Claudia. Faith gives me a thumbs-up, while Claudia’s mouth just hangs open. Behind Claudia, Genevieve is grinning.
Mariah comes to the end of the song and opens her eyes.
“How? Why? When?” are the only words I can get out of my mouth.
She shrugs and looks down at her feet. “Your songs aren’t all that bad.”
“Wait, you know more than just ‘Hear Us Roar’?” Faith asks.
Mariah nods. “I know them all.”
I start tapping out a rhythm on my leg. “But you hate Heart Grenade. You’ve told me that about nine hundred times.”
Mariah shrugs again. “I . . . well, I wasn’t really happy that you got in and I didn’t. But you know how that is.” She looks right at me when she says this last part. I know she’s talking about our rivalry, and she’s right. I do know.
“You’re not exactly an amazing drummer,” I say.
That pinchy-faced look comes back right away, and I hold up my hand. “But you’ve got a great voice.” I press my lips together, take a huge breath, and then say, “You want to be our fill-in backup singer tonight?”
The moon has fallen from the sky, and Leif’s probably going to apologize for being a complete jerk, because I just did the unthinkable.
I asked my mortal enemy to join my band. Temporarily, but still.
Her puckered mouth drops. “Are you serious?”
“You heard me.”
She smiles. A real, happy smile, not a Mariah smirk. “Absolutely. I’m in.”
“Okay. Good.” I pause for a second as she smiles even wider. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
I don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes. Mariah’s eye roll practically comes with its own sound. A screechy, nagging, eardrum-piercing sound.
“Are you sure about this, Tess?” Claudia asks. “I mean, Mariah’s great, but—”
“Sure I’m sure. We need someone to take Kate’s place, don’t we? And Genevieve can help her.” I grab Genevieve by the elbow and pull her over to Mariah. “Right?”
“Um, okay,” Genevieve says in a small voice. “I guess I can tell you what parts you need to come in on.”
“Wait,” Mariah says. “I’ll sing with you guys. But only if Tess agrees to do option C.”
“Option C?” Faith asks. “What’s that mean? That’s not one of our songs.”
I don’t answer her. Faith is one of my best friends, but right now, Operation Make Leif Regret His Life Choices is classified information.
“What’s option C?” I ask her. “I don’t remember talking about an option C. And besides, you’re the one who asked to join us in the first place!”
She gives me an evil grin. “It’s good, I promise.”
Weirdly, I believe her.
“And I’ll tell you in a minute,” she says, “after Gen shows me where to come in. And after we get our picture . . . I mean, after you all . . .”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can be in the picture,” I say.
“Really?”
I smile back at her. It feels weird, but I can’t help it. “But you have to stand in the back, because we’re wearing the same dress.” At least no one will be able to tell we’re wearing the same thing on TV, since you can’t see much of me besides my head once I’m behind my drums.
Mariah rolls her eyes, but she stands in the back anyway. As we squish together for the picture (with everyone’s heads in the shot this time), I get this humming, excited feeling deep in my stomach. I give the photo the perfect caption before I send it off to Carmen:
To rhythm, rock ’n’ roll, and revenge.
CARMEN { 9:19 P.M. }
THE FIRST TIME TESS AND I jammed together, we instantly knew it was meant to be. It was one of those moments where everything falls perfectly into place and you’re like, yep, this feels right.
And tonight, that perfect feeling is happening again. I’m a firm believer in karma, and the fact that Jackson sat down next to me was like the universe saying, Here you go, Carmen. I know I’ve sent some doozies your way today, so let me make up for it. I’ll place you next to a supercute boy.
That has to be what happened, because really, what are the odds that the two people who have totally legit and mega-important reasons to not be here would end up sitting by each other?
Yep, that’s right. Jackson is miserable too, and his story is as tragic as mine.
“This is the first time in fourteen years my school’s basketball team has made it to the state championship, and instead of playing, my parents made me come to this wedding. It’s my stepdad’s brother’s son who’s getting married. I’ve only met him a few times in my life, but my parents insisted we had to come,” Jackson told me after I filled him in about my missing out on Heart Grenade’s big night.
Mom walks by with a drink and gives me a cheerful wave. I don’t know what she is expecting back, but I doubt it’s the angry scowl I give her. I turn to Jackson and say, “Parents don’t get it.”
“Yep, you’re right,” he agrees. “I begged my mom and dad to let me stay home with one of my friends so I could play in the game, but they wouldn’t budge. My mom said family was more important than a basketball game. I told her I know that. That’s why I live with them and not at school in the gym.”
“Obviously, your mom doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Take exhibit A.” I point to the other end of the table, where Jackson’s sister has joined the rest of the kids. Dinner is over, and while the adults may be calmly drinking coffee, I can’t say the same for the kids at our table. They all crack up at Lucas as he unties the knot on a balloon and sucks some helium out. He sings “Here Comes the Bride” in a high-pitched voice that sounds like a chipmunk.
Jackson and I let out big, giant sighs, because really, what’s there to say when you have to deal with a night like this?
“Are you getting any messages?” I ask when Jackson checks his phone, and he shakes his head. “Me neither. The last message I got was a totally confusing picture from my friend Tess with her and the band and a girl that she absolutely hates. My phone’s reception is so bad in here that it takes forever to send a message, and there’s no way I’ll be able to watch my band’s performance on FaceTime like I arranged with one of the girls who is in choir with me. And my mom said there’s no way she’s paying for me to use the hotel’s Wi-Fi since we’re here to ‘spend time together as a family.’ This is truly an American tragedy.”
“What if I told you it didn’t have to be?” Jackson asks.
“Um, how?”
“I have an idea that I’m pretty sure will work.”
“You do?”
“I do.” He smiles so big you’d think he discovered how to create world peace. “Didn’t you say your band’s performance was going to be streamed live on the news station’s website?”
I nod, still not quite sure what he’s getting at.
“That’s the solution!” He looks so excited that I’m sad to crush
his bubble of happiness.
I hold up my cell phone. “Didn’t you hear me? I have the slowest connection in the universe. The show will be over and my family will be back home before it’s even finished buffering.”
“We’ll find the hotel’s business center.”
“The what?”
“The business center. Most hotels have one; that’s what my dad uses when we travel and he needs to print documents from work. All we have to do is find it, and we’re good to go.”
“You’re a genius!” I say, because he kind of sort of is.
Jackson shrugs like it’s no big deal. But it’s a really big deal. I’m going to get to see Heart Grenade play after all!
The two of us weave through the tables as we dodge floating balloons and try to leave unnoticed. Luckily, La Vibora de la Mar has started, and a ton of guests are holding hands and looping around my cousin and her new husband. It’s one of my favorite parts of a Mexican wedding, and even though we need to get out of the room, I have to stop for a second to watch because everyone is having so much fun. There’s a part of me that wants to join in, but we don’t have much time before the band performs.
We make it out of the ballroom and stop where “cocktail hour and a half” was. Stray olives lie on the ground, and I’m so glad we aren’t at the kiddie table anymore.
Jackson stands in the middle of the room and slowly turns in a circle.
“Okay, if I were a computer in a business center at a hotel, where would I be?” he asks.
“Really? You’re trying to get into the mind of a computer? You sound like my mom when she loses her keys.”
“Obviously, your mom knows how to find missing items. I need to channel the computer and become one with it.”
“Right. Sure.” I choke down a giggle because I can’t really tell if he’s joking or not. His face is all serious as if he’s deep in thought, with his eyes closed tight and forehead wrinkled.
“While you’re doing that, I’m going to try my own method.” I walk right up to one of the workers who’s picking up empty glasses and tap him on the shoulder.
“Excuse me, sir, I need to send a very important e-mail. Can you direct me to the business center?”
He looks at me like I’m nuts, which I kind of am, but only because time is ticking. “Everyone in the world has smartphones, so they got rid of the business center. Now it’s a Starbucks.”
I send up a silent curse to coffee drinkers everywhere and stomp back to where Jackson is standing.
“Well, that was a bust. They don’t have a business center here.”
“No problem,” he says with that goofy grin on his face, but he’s wrong. It is a problem. The worst problem in the world. “I found a hallway labeled STAFF ONLY. There’s bound to be a computer there. And the staff will already be connected to the Wi-Fi, so our plan will still work. Trust me, I have this all under control.”
Before I can argue with him, he gestures at me to follow him down a hallway that is most certainly not for guests. The doors are labeled with signs that say things like LAUNDRY and LINENS.
Jackson opens a door, peeks his head in, and then closes it.
“Come on,” he says. “I’ll take this side and you can take the other.”
I follow his lead, but not one of the rooms I check has a computer.
We only pause when a woman wearing a hotel uniform walks past us.
“Can I help you?” she asks, and my heart freezes. This is it. We’re caught. I’m going to miss my chance to watch the performance.
“Yes, my mom sent me down to get some extra shampoo. She’s almost out,” Jackson says in a very adult-sounding voice.
“Certainly,” the woman says and walks into a room full of toilet paper, towels, sheets, and tiny bottles. She hands him three. “Tell your mom if she needs anything else, all she has to do is call. We’ll run it up so you don’t need to come down.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Jackson says, and the woman nods and heads off down the hall.
I let out a nervous laugh when she’s gone. I can’t believe she bought that. Jackson is a genius.
“Okay, we need to get moving and check the other side of the reception hall,” he says. “Time’s running out.”
The two of us creep ninja-style through the rest of the hallway. We open and close doors along the way. We find a room full of helium tanks, one with DJ equipment, and one where the photographer’s assistant is taking a break and eating a sandwich. What we don’t find is a room with a computer.
“There has to be one somewhere,” Jackson says. He opens the door to a big mess of wedding odds and ends.
“Nothing but a bunch of junk.” I pick up a bedazzled tablecloth and wrinkle my nose. What’s up with this place? Do they specialize in tacky weddings?
We step back outside and head to the last door. The only one we haven’t opened. It has to have a computer. I take a deep breath, say a silent prayer, and put my hand on the knob. Except when I go to turn it, it doesn’t move.
“It’s locked,” I say.
“A locked door is exactly what we’re looking for,” Jackson says. “That means they have something in there that’s valuable, that they need to keep safe.”
“A locked door also means we can’t get into it.”
“You think? I wouldn’t be so sure of that. . . .” Jackson pulls something out of his pocket. When he begins to play around with the knob, I fidget as I look around.
“I’m not sure you should . . .”
The door flies open, and my eyes widen.
“You broke into a locked room!”
Jackson gestures inside. “A locked room with a computer!”
“No way!”
I peek around him and, sure enough, he’s right. It’s a messy office, with papers stacked all over the desk and chairs, but it’s an office. And sitting on the desk is a computer. I pretty much want to weep at the beautiful sight. Instead, I run over and shake the mouse, and luck is on our side—the screen lights up!
“This is a miracle,” I tell him. “How in the world did you do that?”
“A good magician never reveals his secrets.” He walks over so we’re standing shoulder to shoulder. I consider throwing my arms around him because he’s amazing. But he’s also supercute, and I may have enough guts to stand up onstage and sing in front of a room full of people, but I sure as heck don’t have the guts to hug a boy I met only an hour ago. So instead, I hold my breath as I search for the news station’s website. When it pops up and the screen running community news items appears, I allow myself to completely relax.
We did it!
I’m about to watch Heart Grenade’s big concert! With Jackson! Life is finally going my way.
Wait a minute.
I’m about to watch the concert with Jackson.
A boy who’s not only supercute but is also supernice and wants to hang out with me.
What if he doesn’t like Heart Grenade?
What if he thinks we stink?
Or he might even decide that the horrible wedding was more fun than this.
Oh my gosh, what was I thinking? How can I sit next to him during this?
My stomach has that flip-flopping feeling I get before we perform, but this isn’t jitters from excitement; these are from fear. I may not be the one singing tonight, but it’s still my band’s song. If LeBron sat on the bench during a game, he would still want his team to do well, right? And with Jackson next to me, it seems even more important for my band to do well.
“Are you sure you’re interested in this?” Because maybe he’ll back out. “Heart Grenade is still kind of new. I mean, we’re not pros yet or anything.”
I click on the mouse to minimize the page, but Jackson places his hand on top of mine to stop me.
“It’s pretty cool that you actually wrote a song. My friend’s band only plays covers,” he says.
My face heats up as I try not to die from excitement, because I’m pretty sure that Jackson is flirting wit
h me. Thankfully, before I can figure it out, he pulls his hand away and jumps up.
“I’ve gotta get something really fast. Don’t move; it’ll only take a minute.”
I don’t even have time to respond. He jumps up and slips out the door before my brain can comprehend what happened.
My eyes go back and forth from the door to the computer screen as I wait. I’ve almost convinced myself that he’s changed his mind and doesn’t want to listen to my band when he returns. He holds a plate high in the air like a trophy.
“Look what I scored! I tried to take two pieces, but some lady with a headset was not about to let that happen. We have to share, but it’s tres leches cake, and it looks incredible. I figured half is better than nothing.”
“I don’t mind sharing,” I say, and I take the fork he holds out to me. I immediately take a bite because living with two brothers has taught me how fast I need to be when boys and food are involved. It’s sweet and moist and amazing, and Jackson better hurry up, because I’m not sure I want to share anymore!
“Hey! Wait for me.” Jackson pushes my fork away so he can take some for himself.
The two of us settle in behind the desk and pass the cake back and forth as we wait for Heart Grenade’s performance to start. We’re both eyeing the last bit of the cake when the office door flies open. Before we can do anything, my brothers burst into the room.
“We found you!” Lucas yells while Alex smirks, obviously delighted to stumble upon me doing something that could get me into very deep trouble. If tattling were a competitive sport, Alex would take home the gold.
“Get out!” I yell, not that it makes any difference. Discovering me in here is like winning the lottery. My brothers are going to milk this for all it’s worth.
“Mom and Dad are going to kill you when they find out you sneaked into someone’s office,” Alex says. “With a boy.”
My face begins to heat up, and I most definitely don’t look at Jackson to see what he’s thinking about all of this. Leave it to my brothers to embarrass me every chance they get.
Alex is waiting for me to get upset, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. Not after everything I’ve sacrificed to be here and everything I’ve had to put up with tonight. I’m done with my brothers and their never-ending quest to make my life miserable. Done, done, done.
Best. Night. Ever. Page 12