Finally, the Sunday afternoon of the band’s departure was upon them. Just after lunch, a humongous tour bus came chugging up the Campbells’ drive like some kind of motorized mythical creature.
Max and Ollie bounded out of the house and boarded the bus almost before the driver had cut the ignition. Standing in the driveway, Lark and Donna could hear them hooting and hollering about how awesome it was inside.
“We’ll be like the Rolling Stones!” said Ollie. “Only younger.”
“I prefer to think of myself as a young Lenny Kravitz,” Max countered. “That dude’s got style!”
When the boys came galloping out, it was Donna and Lark’s turn to investigate the vehicle’s interior.
“Pretty swanky, huh?” said Donna, eyeing the leather upholstery and shiny wood-veneer walls.
Lark wasn’t sure she’d describe it quite that way. To her, it mostly seemed cramped and dark. It did, however, have plenty of cool amenities. There were four built-in bunks with curtains for privacy. There was a very tiny lavatory, a miniature galley kitchen, and loads of electronics. Everything seemed to be operated by push buttons. There was no denying that this was one upscale ride, but in truth, when Lark looked at it, all she could see was that the boys would be rolling out of her life for the foreseeable future.
When Lark exited the bus, she nearly crashed into Teddy, who was standing in the driveway with his suitcases, staring up at the behemoth that was about to become his home for the next four months.
It was the first time Lark had been in his company since the night of the Abbey Road party.
Since the night of their kiss.
“Hi.” She smiled.
“Hi.” He smiled back.
Lark noted silently that these were probably the two most awkward smiles ever exchanged in the history of the universe.
“My parents just dropped me off,” Teddy explained. “My mom was pretty emotional, so they didn’t stick around. Long good-byes, you know …”
Lark nodded.
“So. How’ve you been?”
“All right. How about you?”
Teddy shrugged. “Not bad. So, um … about that … you know …”
“Yeah.” Lark kicked at a pebble on the asphalt. “I know. I’m sorry if it made things weird.”
“What? No. I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m the one who gave you the … you know.”
Lark grinned in spite of herself. “The kiss? It’s okay, Teddy. You can say it.”
“Okay. The kiss. I’m sorry I kissed you. I mean, I’m not sorry that I … I’m just …” He let out a long flustered breath and shook his head. “I’m sorry about all that stuff on the Internet.”
“It’s not your fault things got out of hand like they did. You didn’t know there was a photographer hiding on the roof terrace.”
“You’re right. I didn’t.” Teddy looked overwhelmingly relieved. “And I’m really glad you feel that way. I was worried you were mad.”
“Oh, I’m not mad,” Lark assured him. “But your fans are a whole other story.”
Teddy blushed. Then he laughed.
Lark laughed too.
The awkwardness was quickly fading away, and suddenly she was happy just to be talking to him again. “Excited for the tour?”
“Excited. And a little scared.”
“That sounds about right.”
“How about you? Are you looking forward to having the house to yourself?”
“Not as much as you might think,” Lark admitted. “I’ve gotten used to having Max and Ollie around, even if they do sometimes drive me crazy.”
“Well, I guess for the next few months they’ll be driving me crazy,” Teddy observed. “If you want, I’ll take notes and send you updates, so you won’t feel left out of all the craziness.”
Lark managed to smile at that, but inside she felt a tug at her heart. Ordinarily, she’d be memorizing every word of this interaction with Teddy so that she could share it with Mimi and they could analyze the exchange—but that wasn’t going to happen this time. Because Mimi still wasn’t talking to her.
The next thing Lark knew, Oliver and Max were thundering out of the house with duffel bags slung over their shoulders. Ollie was toting his beloved Stratocaster and Max had his drumsticks in one hand and an electronic keyboard tucked under his arm.
“There he is,” said Ollie, by way of a greeting. “So what do you think of our new home?”
“I’ve only seen the outside,” Teddy told him. “Is it roomy?”
“Hah!” said Max with a big grin. “Let’s put it this way … I really hope you don’t snore.”
“I don’t,” Teddy promised.
Ollie turned to Lark and gently chucked her under the chin. “All right, then. I guess this is good-bye for now. We’ll miss you.”
Lark felt a lump well up in her throat. “I’ll miss you, too.”
When Max gave her a hug, Lark’s first thought was, Please don’t let there be a photographer in the bushes! Her second thought was that the brotherly embrace was one of the sweetest things she’d ever felt.
“Keep in touch,” he said softly. “Call us anytime.”
“Same goes for you,” said Lark. “I want to hear everything.”
Ollie laughed. “Maybe not everything,” he said, winking. “Just the PG stuff.”
“There’s only going to be PG stuff,” Donna said sternly, appearing from the house. She was wheeling a designer suitcase and looked every inch the successful record-label boss. “Abbey Road is all about being wholesome and well-behaved, remember?”
“Of course we remember,” teased Max. “You won’t let us forget!”
“Just doing my job,” said Donna.
Then a wave and a nod from the driver told them it was time to go.
Lark was overcome by such sadness that her knees nearly buckled. They weren’t even on the bus yet and already she felt indescribably lonely.
Fitzy came rushing through the front door, weeping profusely and carrying a stack of Tupperware containers, which she handed to the bus driver. “I’ve packed you some snacks,” she announced. “Parsnip scones, mango-chunk oatmeal cookies, and Tex-Mex meatloaf with wasabi sauce!”
Max laughed. “Your greatest hits!”
“What?” cried Ollie, giving her a loud smooch on the cheek. “No Yorkshire pudding?”
“Oh, you!” Fitzy swatted him away, then burst into a fresh shower of tears and hurried back into the house.
“All right,” said Donna. “All aboard!”
“I call top bunk,” said Ollie, racing toward the bus.
“I call other top bunk,” said Max, hot on his heels.
Lark laughed and gave Teddy a sympathetic smile. “Good luck!”
“Thanks.” Teddy took two steps toward the bus, then turned back, gave her a wave, and disappeared into the belly of the bus-beast.
“Well,” said Donna.
“Well,” said Lark.
“I’ll only be gone for a week,” Donna reminded her. “I just want to get the boys settled and make sure the first few concerts go smoothly. Then I’ll be home and I’ll only be flying out from time to time to check on them.” She smiled. “After all, Lotus has a new talent in development, and it’s high time I gave her my undivided attention. Now come over here, darling, and give your mama a hug!”
Lark did. The only good thing about this tour was that, in addition to the Ivy League tutor, Donna was sending Julia the PR girl and a handful of other responsible professionals along to keep an eye on the boys and handle their business concerns. Lark would have hated it if her mom had deemed it necessary to join the boys for the entire time they’d be on the road.
She watched as Donna loaded her fancy suitcase into the cargo hold and hurried up the bus steps. Then the engine growled, the driver honked the horn, and the enormous machine backed out to the street.
Lark watched it go, leaving her in the driveway all alone. She walked slowly into the house. With any luck, she’d f
ind some of her favorite kind of company … the company of a song.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t exactly like getting out of the limo in front of Dusk.
There were no velvet ropes, no pale-blue lighting, no line of elegant party guests, and no huddle of eager paparazzi awaiting the arrival of entertainment’s newest stars.
Today there were just giggling students and lunch trays and rolling trash barrels.
But what was the same was the way everyone stared when Lark appeared in the caf-a-gym-a-torium doorway. Heads began to turn, one by one at first, then table by table. Kids pointed and whispered as Lark strode toward the table by the window where Mimi was seated alone, hunched over an uninspiring sloppy joe, oblivious to the strange scene that was unfolding thanks to the earbuds she was wearing.
Lark pushed aside the nervous feeling that tingled in her belly. She ignored the nosy looks and curious murmurs. She even managed to disregard Ally Drake, who said loudly in her most condescending tone, “What is she carrying in that big, ugly case?”
Lark let Ally’s question go unanswered and kept right on walking.
Because Lark was on a mission.
And the mission was music.
Mimi looked up from her lunch with a start when Lark slid the guitar case across the lunch table. “What’s going on?” she asked, jerking the headphones out of her ears.
“I guess you could call it a world premiere,” said Lark, lovingly removing the old Gibson from its battered case. Slipping the strap over her head, she arranged her fingers on the strings.
Mimi’s eyes were round with astonishment.
“I apologize if I’m a little shaky,” Lark said with a shrug. “I still haven’t completely kicked the whole stage-fright thing. But the funny thing is, once a girl plays the Grand Ole Opry, the Ronald Reagan Middle School caf-a-gym-a-torium doesn’t seem all that scary anymore. And besides, some things are worth being scared for.”
She closed her eyes and swept her fingers over the strings. Images of herself and Mimi laughing by the pool, watching music videos, and even choking down Fitzy’s not-so-famous mustard donuts filled her mind like scenes from a favorite movie while her voice filled the lunchroom.
I don’t say it often, because I thought you knew,
How much you mean to me, and the way I feel ’bout you.
So now, my friend, I want to make you see,
How much your friendship means to me …
Out of the corner of her eye, Lark spotted the lunch-duty teacher, a frowning Coach Bricker, preparing to storm across the caf-a-gym-a-torium. But as luck would have it, Principal Hardy, who was just exiting the lunch line with a chef’s salad and diet iced tea, stopped him with a smile and an authoritative shake of her head.
They say that time is precious and I don’t disagree,
Because the time I spend with you means so much to me.
And one thing’s for certain, on this you can depend:
There’ll always be time for me to be your friend.
The final note trembled away, settling into the silence that had fallen over the lunchroom.
A silence that didn’t last long.
In the next heartbeat, everyone (even Coach Bricker) was applauding and cheering for Lark’s performance.
Everyone except Mimi.
Because Mimi was too busy hugging Lark.
“Best friends?” Lark whispered into Mimi’s ear.
“Best best friends,” Mimi replied.
Lark smiled. Mission (and music) accomplished!
CHAPTER 17
“Will you please pass the sunscreen?” Lark’s voice was a lazy singsong that caught itself in a warm spring breeze. It was Friday, and school had let out early for a teacher’s workshop, giving the girls the whole luxurious afternoon to lounge by the pool.
Mimi obliged, tossing a bottle of SPF 50 onto Lark’s lounge chair.
A couple months had passed since the boys had left on their tour. Lark still missed them terribly, but the fact that school was winding down and summer vacation was right around the corner made it a little easier to take.
Donna had flown out three days earlier to meet the boys in Las Vegas, to check up on things and discuss plans for the second album. She’d be riding the bus with them back to California for a show that weekend.
“Thanks, Meems,” said Lark, rubbing the sunscreen onto her cheeks.
“No probs. I can’t have the star of my next music video getting sunburned.”
“I told you, the song isn’t ready yet. And besides, don’t you have enough to do as the Lotus Records media intern?”
“You know that’s all on hold until the boys get back from tour.” Mimi sighed. “Although it would have been awesome if I could have tagged along and shot some live concert footage.”
“Speaking of the tour, is there anything about it online today?”
“That’s a silly question,” said Mimi, grabbing her iPad from the little glass table between their chairs. “Since there’s been something about Abbey Road on the entertainment sites every single day since the tour began.”
Lark grinned, her eyes crinkling behind her aviator sunglasses. “Mom is thrilled about that, since all the reviews and articles have been so positive.”
“Okay, let’s see …” Mimi scrolled through the recent news on the tablet. “This music critic from Rolling Stone calls them ‘worthy of their Beatles-inspired name.’ And People can’t say enough about how charming and clean-cut they are.” She read silently for a bit, then giggled. “This journalist calls Ollie ‘a natural-born superstar.’ And he says Max is too talented to pin down—he can’t decide whether to refer to him as the drummer or the dancer, so he’s coined a new term: ‘the drancer.’ ”
“Does it say anything about Teddy?” Lark asked.
“Yep. Says he’s a gifted musician, a charismatic performer, and most of all … ‘one of the most adorable teen idols America has ever seen.’ ” Mimi looked up from the tablet and smiled. “Must be nice to hear someone say that stuff about your boyfriend.”
“Mimi, he’s not my boyfriend!” At least, I don’t think he is.
Mimi rolled her eyes. “Well, I wish he were!”
“Why would you wish it?”
“Because if he were your boyfriend, you’d have already finished writing the song, and we’d be working on our next video. I mean, it’s pretty obvious from the lyrics you’ve shown me so far that the song is about him. Isn’t it?”
Lark chose not to comment. Mimi was right, of course. Her latest work in progress was all about her feelings for Teddy. Unfortunately, the primary feeling in the mix was confusion. Sure, he’d kissed her on the cheek in the moonlight, but that was a while ago at this point. Other than their one clunky conversation in the driveway, they hadn’t really had a chance to talk about it. She had no idea what he was thinking or feeling.
“Have you heard from him?” Mimi persisted.
“Yeah, he’s texted a few times, but it’s mostly just small talk and concert updates. Like, ‘Max lost his drumsticks in Atlanta,’ and ‘Ollie forgot the words to “Wounded Pride” in Phoenix.’ ”
“So nothing juicy and meaningful like, ‘Lark, I’m counting the minutes until I can gaze into your beautiful green eyes again’?”
“Nope.” Lark gave a long sigh. “Nothing like that.”
“Well,” said Mimi, her fingers fluttering over the tablet screen, “if it’s any consolation, I’m looking at the band’s Instagram account right now and there aren’t any pictures of Teddy smooching or … what was that word Max taught you … swogging?”
“Snogging.”
“Right, snogging. There is not one single photo of Teddy snogging any girls.” Mimi laughed. “Although there is one of him getting licked by a golden retriever puppy.”
“Well, now I’m really jealous!” joked Lark. “I love golden retriever puppies!”
Mimi laughed, then stood up, collected her towel and sunscreen, and stuffed them in her bag. “I’ve go
t to run. Why don’t you go and work your musical magic on the Teddy song? It would be great if we could start filming next week.”
“Fine,” said Lark, rising from the chaise longue. “I’ll see if I can bang out a few solid verses. But I’m not making you any promises. Magic takes time, you can’t just make it happen.”
“There you go!” cried Mimi, giving a little skip as she headed across the lawn. “That could be a lyric right there—magic takes time! If that doesn’t describe your relationship with Teddy Reese, I don’t know what does!”
When Lark wandered into the practice room, loneliness hit her like a punch. She’d have given anything to see Ollie sprawled on the carpet with a bowl of ice cream, or Max twirling his drumsticks between his fingers.
The room felt cold and empty.
Kind of like Lark, when she thought about Teddy, and whether or not his feelings for her were anything like her feelings for him.
Dropping into the armchair, she clicked her tongue for Dolly. The cat came slinking out from where she’d been sleeping under one of Ollie’s sweaters, which had been left in a heap on the floor.
“You miss them too, huh, girl?” said Lark, drawing the graceful little cat into her lap.
Dolly replied with a purr, which Lark took to mean, You bet I do.
With Dolly settled back to sleep and her guitar across her legs, Lark opened her songwriting journal, closed her eyes, and waited for the magic to happen.
Musical notes appeared like snowflakes, spiraling through the darkness behind her eyelids. They found their way to her fingers, and she began to play.
The words followed soon enough, and two hours later, she was singing her new song to her father on the computer.
“So what do you think, Daddy?”
“I think it could be another hit for the Hatfields,” Jackson said.
The High Note Page 14