“Sure,” said Teddy, his eyes lighting at the invitation. “That’d be great.”
As Garret played the first few measures of his work in progress, Jackson got right to the point. “Is he your boyfriend?” he whispered to Lark.
Lark blushed. “No!” she whispered back. “We’re just friends. He’s not my boyfriend.”
Jackson raised his eyebrows and grinned. “But you wish he was, don’t ya?”
More than anything, thought Lark, but she wasn’t about to reveal that particular truth to her daddy. And since she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him, she changed the subject. “What about that backup singer you were flirting with when I got here?” she challenged. “The one in the tight skirt and the fake eyelashes. Is she your girlfriend?”
Teddy was making some real improvements to Garret’s composition; from the sound of Garret’s appreciative chuckle, he was very pleased.
“She’s a professional acquaintance,” Jackson said (which Lark figured was the grown-up equivalent of “just friends”). “But even if Tonya and I were romantically involved, the difference is, I’m old enough to be in a relationship. You’re much too young to have a serious boyfriend.”
“Fine.” Lark felt her mouth twisting into a pout. “But all I’m saying is that if you’re going to be in a relationship, why can’t it be with Mom? She’s still single, you’re still single—”
“Darlin’,” said Jackson, sighing, “your mama and I just aren’t gettin’ back together. It’s that simple.”
“Simple like a country song,” Lark grumbled, closing her eyes.
Suddenly, the melody Teddy was playing on the keyboard felt like it was swirling around in her heart, and words tumbled into her mind.
“Mr. Givens,” said Lark, going over to the keyboard. “How about this …” She took a deep breath, forced herself to ignore the fact that she was surrounded by strangers, and began to sing:
I took that girl to be my wife,
We made our vows, and planned our life.
But dreams get broke, the pieces scatter,
I tell myself that it just don’t matter …
Lark was surprised at how easily the words came, given her recent bout of writer’s block. Maybe it was because this song didn’t come with any expectations—whereas her mother was desperately hoping that Lark would come up with another big hit for Abbey Road.
Garret frantically scribbled Lark’s words on a notepad. “Keep going,” he said. “Just sing what’s in your heart. And you”—he grinned at Teddy—“try picking up the tempo a little bit.”
“Good idea,” said Teddy.
Teddy adjusted the music’s pace, playing the next verse with a faster beat. Lark lent her voice to the tune:
She and me weren’t meant to be,
Now we’re nothing but a memory.
We’re doing our best to stay friends,
But heartache starts where our love ends …
When Lark finished, there was a round of heartfelt applause.
Jackson pulled Lark close. “That was beautiful, Songbird. I guess I didn’t realize how much you’re hurting. I’m so sorry about that, baby. Divorce hurts, don’t it?”
“Divorce hurts,” Lark echoed against his chest, then laughed in spite of herself. “I think we have our song title.”
Garret wrote out the title and beamed at Lark. “I hope it ain’t past your bedtime, little girl, because we’re gonna need a bridge, a chorus, and at least three more verses.”
As the fans and other guests dispersed, Lark, Teddy, Jackson, and Garret spent the next hour feasting on the remaining wings and ribs and working on the song.
It was the perfect ending to an incredible night.
When they’d finished, Garret Givens promised that the Hatfields would play the new song at their next show in Seattle.
“You two will both get a songwriting credit,” Garret promised Lark and Teddy. “I’ll get in touch with your mama about royalties later.”
But Lark didn’t care about the money. All that mattered was that her father would be playing and singing a song she had written for him. And for her. And for Donna.
A tribute to the family they once were and the new, slightly bruised but determined family they had become.
CHAPTER 6
On Monday morning, Mimi came barreling down the seventh-grade hall, calling Lark’s name. Lark laughed as Mimi skidded to a halt a split second before crashing face-first into Lark’s open locker door.
“Wait until you see this!” said Mimi, whipping out her phone. “It’s mind-boggling.”
“What is?” asked Lark. “Did you get a personal invitation from Tim Burton to assistant direct his next movie?” She could think of nothing else that would have Mimi so excited.
Mimi was tapping her phone like a madwoman. “I was so busy over the weekend with the party and everything that I forgot to check, but when I looked this morning—”
“Miss Solis!”
The angry voice boomed down the hall, stopping a couple of skittish sixth graders in their tracks.
Lark and Mimi whirled to see Mr. Corbin, their history teacher, scowling at them.
“Miss Solis, haven’t I told you repeatedly that phones are not to be used during school hours except in the event of an emergency?”
Mimi gulped. “Yes, sir.”
“Is this an emergency?”
Lark slid a sideways look at her best friend, who seemed to be weighing up her answer. She wondered if Mimi and Mr. Corbin had the same definition of “emergency.” For example, Christopher Nolan announcing that he was retiring from making movies might constitute a life-changing event in Mimi’s mind, but it wasn’t likely that Mr. Corbin would share her extreme distress over such news.
“No,” said Mimi at last. “Not really. Just some really good news I wanted to share with Lark.”
“Well, then,” said Mr. Corbin, holding out his hand for the phone. “Miss Campbell will have something to look forward to at the end of the day. But for now, I’m confiscating your cellular device.”
When Mimi looked as if she might protest, Lark subtly elbowed her in the rib cage. Mimi sighed and turned over her phone.
“You may pick it up in Principal Hardy’s office after seventh period. Now get to class before the bell rings.”
“Yes, sir,” Mimi repeated, then leaned close to Lark and whispered, “Library. After fourth.”
She was gone before Lark could respond.
As cryptically instructed by her BFF, Lark reported to the library immediately following her fourth-period class. Luckily, it was lunch period, so she didn’t have to worry about being late for anything. She did, however, have to worry about not having time to eat and missing out on whatever “delicacy” Fitzy had packed in her lunch bag that morning.
Mimi practically leaped out from behind the fiction shelves, grabbed Lark’s elbow, and began dragging her toward the study carrels.
“You’ve gotta see this!” she whispered. “It’s awesome.”
“I’ve seen the library before, Meems.”
“Ha, ha, very funny.” Mimi pulled her along until they found a secluded spot near the back of the library. Then she reached into her backpack and pulled out a cell phone.
“I thought Mr. Corbin took your phone,” said Lark.
“He did. This is Trevor Yoshida’s. He let me borrow it.” She shrugged. “He kinda likes me.”
Lark gave her a look. “Kinda?”
“Well, maybe more than kinda,” Mimi admitted, her fingers tapping the screen. “His password is ‘Mimi.’ ”
Lark laughed, then jumped when a blast of music blared through the speaker of Trevor’s phone. It was a song she recognized instantly—after all, she was the one singing it.
“Everything’s working out …”
Every head in the library turned in their direction, including the librarian’s.
“Shhhhhhh!”
“Sorry,” Mimi whispered, deftly muting the video.
“Of course not.” Mimi rolled her eyes and handed the phone to Lark. “Look!”
Lark’s gaze went straight to the little number in the right-hand corner beneath the video.
She gasped.
“I know, right?” said Mimi. “I only put it up a few days ago, and look at all those views and likes! And there’s more.” Flicking her finger over the screen, she scrolled down through the first several comments. “Check this out!”
Lark read the comment Mimi was pointing to. It was from someone called DBay and it said, “Songbird, you’ve got the goods. Gimme a shout ASAP. I’m at Zeitgeist Music.”
“You think it’s real?” asked Lark, a tremble shooting through her.
“I do,” said Mimi, beaming. “I went on the Zeitgeist website and it seems pretty legit. It says the CEO is a guy named Danny Baylor. Cool, huh?”
“Cool if it’s the real deal,” Lark conceded. “Creepy if it isn’t.”
“But I think it is the real deal,” said Mimi, bouncing up and down. “Lark, some record executive wants you to give him a shout!”
Of course “giving a shout” to a perfect stranger was the last thing in the world Lark would ever do. But that didn’t mean the interest wasn’t flattering. A shriek that was part joy and part horror escaped her.
Again, everyone in the library whirled to glare at her.
“If you girls insist on making noise, you’re going to have to leave,” the librarian scolded from the circulation desk. “Other students are trying to study.”
Embarrassed, Lark looked away from the librarian. Which was when she noticed that one of those “students trying to study” was Teddy.
“Put the phone away,” Lark advised Mimi in a whisper. “It won’t do much for your relationship with Trevor if you get his cellular device confiscated, too.”
“Good thinking,” said Mimi, quickly stuffing the phone into her backpack.
The girls made their way to Teddy, who was bent low over a science textbook.
“Hi,” said Mimi.
Teddy kept his eyes on the book. “Look, I really appreciate your interest in the band, but I’m trying to study.”
Lark felt stung. “Oh. Right. Of course. We’ll leave you alone.”
Teddy snapped his head up. His face brightened with an enormous smile. “Hey.”
“Hey,” said Lark. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to bother you.”
“It’s okay, really,” said Teddy. “You’re not bothering me at all. It’s just that kids keep interrupting me to ask me about Abbey Road, and wanting to know how it feels to be a star. So I haven’t gotten any work done.”
“Uh, what part of ‘star’ don’t you understand?” said Mimi. “Who cares about getting schoolwork done?”
“Teddy cares,” said Lark.
Mimi shrugged. “Why? He’s on the verge of becoming a pop phenomenon. Most people in his position would drop out of school altogether.”
Lark felt a stab in her gut. She hated the thought of Teddy not being in school anymore.
“That’s definitely not an option,” said Teddy with a chuckle. “My parents are super supportive of my music career, but they keep reminding me that ‘fame is fickle’ and ‘the entertainment industry is risky.’ They don’t want me to be disappointed if the band doesn’t last long. I know they’re right—it’s just the nature of the beast.”
“Beast? What beast?” asked Mimi, confused.
“The boy-band beast,” Lark clarified.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mimi protested. “Oliver Wesley is definitely not a beast. Neither is Max!”
“It’s just a figure of speech,” said Teddy. “The point is, I really want to get my GPA back up to where it was before I joined the band, just in case. Stardom doesn’t come with any guarantees.”
Something suddenly occurred to Lark. “What about the tour? It’s going to last three whole months! You’re going to miss a lot of school while the band is on the road.”
“I’m taking a leave of absence,” Teddy explained. “The band’s tutor is going to coordinate with my regular teachers so I can stick to the curriculum. The tour will be over in time for me to come back to school, at least for the month of June, and hopefully I won’t be behind in my classes.”
Lark was about to tell him she was impressed by that philosophy when his phone dinged, signaling a text message. He snuck it out of his pocket and kept it low, so the librarian wouldn’t see it. “I’m usually not this sneaky, but your mom has a rule about being reachable at all times.”
Lark sighed. “I’m very familiar with that rule.”
Teddy checked the message. “It’s from your mom’s PR assistant, Julia,” he said. “She says they need me at the house today after school for a photo shoot and to meet with a wardrobe consultant about what wear for the TV interview.” He smiled. “So save me a seat on the bus.”
Lark turned to Mimi. “Meems, you’ve got more fashion sense than anyone I know. You should come over and help. ”
“I’m glad you suggested it,” said Mimi. “Saves me from having to invite myself over. Because you know I’m not about to miss the opportunity to see Oliver modeling cool clothes.”
“Well,” said Lark, “we should let Teddy get back to his studying.”
“Yeah,” said Mimi. “Good luck with that whole education thing.”
“Thanks,” said Teddy, expelling a heavy breath. “I need it.”
As they exited the library, Lark paused to glance back at Teddy, who was once again hunkered down over his textbooks. Would that be what she’d have to look forward to if she ever did decide to “give a shout” to the mysterious Danny Baylor, CEO of Zeitgeist Records? Pressure, stress, relentless fans, and the possibility of leaving school.
Of course it would. That was how fame worked.
And it didn’t exactly sound like Lark’s idea of a good time.
In fact, it sounded like torture.
CHAPTER 7
Lark’s mind was preoccupied for the rest of the day. Knowing that a music executive (one who didn’t just happen to be her own mother) thought she “had the goods” filled her with confidence. It was an entirely new feeling for Lark; she was used to doubting her ability to share her talent with an audience.
It occurred to her now, though, that maybe she’d been leaning a little too hard on that old “stage fright” excuse. After all, she’d survived the talent show, and she’d even improvised a bit backstage at the Hatfields’ concert—unintentionally, of course, but she’d gotten through that too.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the note that landed on her desk in history class, from none other than Alessandra Drake. She turned to Mimi, who sat two desks away and looked as surprised as Lark. Lark gave her a look that said, What should I do?
Mimi shrugged. Open it, she mouthed.
Lark opened up the folded piece of paper carefully, as if it might explode.
Wanna go to the mall with me and Mel after school today? it said.
Lark blinked. This had to be a mistake. Ally must have misjudged her throw; maybe she’d been aiming for Josh Pell’s desk. Josh was a skater dude who wore baggy pants and slouchy knit beanies, and although he didn’t exactly strike Lark as the mall type, he was the only other official A-lister in the room and therefore the only person Ally ever communicated with during class.
But when Lark snuck a glance across the aisle, she saw that Ally was smiling at her, awaiting a reply.
Lark gripped her pen and held it poised above the creased paper. She stared at the unexpected invitation, written in Ally’s loopy script.
Ally Drake wants me to go to the mall with her, she thought, imagining herself sauntering through the airy, fountain-dotted corridors of an upscale shopping plaza flanked by Ally and Mel. She saw glossy shopping bags swinging from their wrists, their hair bouncing on their shoulders as they flitted from store to store …
It wasn’t until Lark realized she was picturing it all happening in slow motion that she recognized how ridiculous it was.
Because Ally didn’t want to be Lark’s friend; she just wanted to get one degree closer to Abbey Road.
Thanks, but I can’t, Lark wrote back. Then, with a grin she added, Mimi and I have plans to hang with Ollie, Max, and Teddy all afternoon.
This was absolutely true, of course, though it may have been a little mean to rub it in Ally’s face like that. But it was far less unkind than Ally pretending to want to be friends with Lark when in truth her motives were purely selfish.
Lark folded the note and threw. It landed square in the center of Ally’s desk.
Keeping her eyes on the front of the classroom, where Mr. Corbin was finishing up his lecture on the First Continental Congress, Lark heard the whispery crackle of the note being unfolded.
Part of her wanted to sneak a glance across the aisle to see the expression of shock on Alessandra’s face. After all, getting rejected wasn’t something that happened to her often. But another part of Lark was content to simply focus on her teacher’s description of the events that had taken place at Carpenters’ Hall in 1774.
Because she was beginning to understand that in the scheme of things, Ally Drake just wasn’t that big a deal.
Lark arrived home with Teddy and Mimi to find that the foyer had been set up as a makeshift photo studio, with cameras on tripods and umbrella-shaped light reflectors all over the place. Ollie was posing in front of a white backdrop, while a girl with blue lipstick held a light meter up to his chin. A guy with a makeup brush in one hand and another clamped between his teeth was dusting Ollie’s cheeks with bronzing powder, while a woman wearing stiletto heels that looked like stilts fussed with his shaggy blond hair.
“Let’s hurry it up, people,” the photographer scolded. “He looks fabulous, now get out of the way so I can shoot him!”
The hair and makeup crew scattered and Lark watched as Ollie struck a pose.
The High Note Page 6