Girl vs. Boy Band

by Harmony Jones

  Max’s eyes turned serious. “I’ll tell you what. If you promise me you’ll try your very best on that stage tomorrow night, I’ll stick around a little longer . . .”

  He held out his smartphone. On the screen was an e-ticket to Heathrow.

  Lark felt tears prickle behind her eyes. “Max . . . no.”

  “Sorry, Lark. I’m just not sure we’re ever going to find someone to take Aidan’s place.”

  “But I’ve found someone!”

  “Who?”

  She smiled. “Teddy!”

  Suddenly, Max was smiling, too. “You know, he might just work.”

  “He will work,” Lark insisted. “I’ve just got to get Mom on board. I’m sure she’ll be all for it as soon as she sees him perform.”

  “Which can’t happen unless you perform with him,” Max pointed out. “So let’s get you inside before you catch a cold. Can’t have you harmonizing with a nose full of boogers!”

  “Ewww!”

  “Exactly.”

  As they made their way back to the house, Max took Lark’s hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “You know, if I can’t have my kid sister around to torture over boyfriends and boogers and dirty knickers, I’m really glad I have you to tease.”

  It didn’t sound like much of a compliment, but in her heart Lark knew it was one of the sweetest ones she’d ever heard.

  Despite Max’s advice, on Friday Lark was right back to where she’d started on the stage fright scale. She was relieved when Teddy suggested they cancel rehearsal to rest their voices for that night’s performance.

  At home she tried to nap, but the best she could manage was a fitful half sleep, in which she dreamed of being laughed off the stage by a bunch of strangers wearing pink camisoles and white cotton panties!

  Finally, it was time to get ready for the show. Mimi came over to help Lark with her makeup. This was a treat, since Donna normally only allowed Lark to wear pastel lip gloss on the weekends. Mimi kept it simple, with just enough smoky eye shadow, blush, and lipstick to keep Lark from looking invisible onstage.

  Not that she wouldn’t have loved a little invisibility right about now.

  When Mimi had completed what she called her “masterpiece,” they went downstairs to join Donna and the boys in the foyer.

  “Blimey!” said Max.

  “You look stunning,” said Ollie. “If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were at least fifteen. Maybe even sixteen.”

  “Which is why she’s not usually allowed to wear makeup,” said Donna pointedly. Her tone was stern, but she was smiling. “You look beautiful, baby girl. Mimi, excellent job. I’ll see you all in the—what do you call it? The gym-a-caf-a-brary-playground-atorium?”

  “Close enough,” joked Mimi. “Your seats are right next to my parents’. Third row, center.”

  “Wait,” said Lark, panicking. “Mama, aren’t you driving us?”

  “Mrs. Fitzpatrick will take you,” said Donna, kissing the top of Lark’s head. “I’ve got to, um, I’ve got a meeting. But it’s on the way. So don’t worry, I’ll be there in plenty of time to hear you sing.”

  Hearing Lark sing had never been the point. It was Teddy her mother needed to hear. And because he’d signed up early, he’d be performing early in the show, unlike Lark, who’d be last.

  Car keys jangling, Donna wished Lark good luck and hurried out the door.

  Lark thought she might cry.

  “Okay,” said Mimi. “Let’s be sure we’ve got everything we need. Video? Check. Guitar? Check. Wardrobe change? Check.”

  “Barf bag?” said Ollie, holding up a small pink gift bag.

  “You’re not helping,” Mimi scolded.

  “It’s not really a barf bag,” said Max, as Ollie handed the present to Lark. “It’s a little something from Ollie and me. To let you know that we’re up on the stage with you in spirit.”

  Hands shaking, Lark reached into the bag beneath the tissue paper and removed her gift—a tiny pin of the British flag.

  “Guys! This is so sweet.” Lark handed the pin to Mimi, who fastened it to Lark’s sweater. “Thanks. I love it.”

  “Knock ’em dead, kid!” said Ollie. “You’re gonna be great!”

  Then Mrs. Fitzpatrick was honking the horn in the driveway.

  It was time to go!

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  According to the student-council members who were handing out programs at the door, this was shaping up to be one of the most highly attended talent shows Ronald Reagan Middle School had ever had.

  “Just my luck,” Lark had grumbled.

  Mimi guided her to the dressing area backstage, gave her an encouraging high five, then went off to consult with the tech crew about loading up her video.

  This left Lark and her guitar case alone with the ballerinas, the tuba players, the rhythmic gymnasts . . . and Howie Dornbaum, the magician. Her knees were shaking and her stomach felt like someone had fed her pterodactyls for lunch.

  Principal Hardy, who was acting as emcee for the evening, was making her way to the stage.

  This is it. Lark’s heart began to rapidly beat in her chest.

  “Hey. Great outfit.”

  She turned to see Teddy approaching across the dressing area. He looked flat-out adorable in his loose-fitting jeans, plain white T-shirt, and desert boots.

  “Thanks,” Lark managed to choke out. “You look good, too.”

  “Want to check out the competition from the wings?” he asked with a crooked grin. “See what we’re up against?”

  “Um . . . okay. Sure.”

  It took a moment to get her wobbly legs moving, but Lark picked up her guitar and followed Teddy down the hall to the stage entrance. Quietly, they positioned themselves in the shadows in time to hear the principal announcing the first act.

  “Please give a warm welcome to Christina Li, who will be playing ‘Ode to Joy’ on the cello.”

  The crowd applauded as Christina took the stage, lit only by the soft glow of the footlights.

  Her performance was flawless.

  As the audience cheered, Lark peeked around the curtain to scan the sea of folding chairs. She gasped when she saw that every seat—stretching from the stage all the way to the back wall of the caf-a-gym-a-torium—was filled.

  Make that almost every seat.

  She spotted Max and Ollie sitting right next to Mimi’s family in the third row. But next to them there appeared to be a gaping hole, a canyon of emptiness. Two unfilled seats.

  She guessed that one of them belonged to one of Mimi’s many aunts or uncles, who must have slipped out to use the restroom.

  The second empty seat, of course, was her mother’s.

  Miserable, Lark stepped aside to allow Christina and her giant cello room to pass, then watched as the next act took the stage, dressed in gauzy harem pants and clacking finger cymbals.

  “Please welcome the girls’ intramural volleyball team,” said Principal Hardy, “who will be performing a Bollywood-style dance routine.” She smiled. “Or perhaps I should say Volley-wood?”

  A smattering of laugher rippled through the crowd.

  Unlike Christina’s string solo, the dancers required more than just the footlights. When the spotlights went on, flooding the stage with dazzling glare, Lark could no longer see the audience.

  The music swelled and the volleyball players began to stomp their feet.

  “Not bad,” said Teddy.

  By the fifth act, Lark had decided that all middle school talent shows could be summed up in two words: “Who knew?”

  For example, who knew that Dennis Breerly could yodel? Or that Samantha Pratt was an accomplished puppeteer? Who knew that Alex Waylon, sporting satin knee breeches and a three-corner hat, could recite the entire Declaration of Independence from memory? Mr. Saunders underscored the moment by playing a soft rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner” on the piano. Unfortunately, the patriotic music only served to remind Lark about her Fourth o
f July fiasco . . .

  “We’re next,” said Teddy. “How do you feel?”

  Nauseated. Petrified. “Excellent!”

  The stage crew set up a tall stool for Lark and a standing mike for Teddy.

  “Now we’ll hear from Teddy Reese, singing an original composition entitled ‘Midnight,’” Principal Hardy announced. “He will be accompanied on guitar by Lark Campbell.”

  Lark stepped squinting onto the brightly lit stage and took her place on the stool. She heard Ollie and Max cheering, but the glare of the spotlights made it impossible to see if perhaps, by some miracle, her mother had arrived during the previous performance. The audience just looked like a massive, writhing silhouette without discernable faces.

  Terror welled up and Lark’s whole body trembled.

  I want to go home.

  She closed her eyes.

  But it wasn’t an auditorium filled with underwear-clad strangers she envisioned behind her eyelids. It was her tiny backyard in Tennessee, with the slanted swing set and the rosebay rhododendron sprouting blooms like pink ruffles on a little girl’s party dress. She saw her old bike propped against the dogwood tree. She saw dew on the grass and a skittering of clouds over the distant hilltops.

  The peacefulness of the memory calmed her.

  Her fingers settled themselves on the strings.

  Just. Play.

  Lark strummed, and the notes of Teddy’s song—which, thanks to their collaboration, had gone from being really good to beyond excellent—rose out of her instrument like mist billowing over the Smoky Mountains. Music filled the air as Teddy began to sing. When he reached the refrain, she heard her own voice, clear and confident, blending with his.

  When Teddy finished singing, the crowd exploded into shouts and cheers.

  The performance had been perfect. Lark had managed to stay conscious. And Teddy had just proved that he had more than enough talent to make Abbey Road whole again.

  The problem was that Donna hadn’t been there to see it.

  In the wings, Teddy caught Lark in a hug and spun her around. “You were incredible!”

  “No, you were! You were amazing.”

  Teddy laughed. “Thanks. But I couldn’t have done it without you, Lark. It’s over now, so you can relax and enjoy.” He eyed the stage, where a sixth-grade boy was making horrible noises on a bagpipe. “Well, you can enjoy whatever that is!”

  “Actually,” said Lark, “it’s not over. I signed up to sing a solo. I’m the last act.”

  “Seriously? You’re going to sing?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “I’m really impressed.” His eyes searched hers. “What made you brave enough to face your fears like this?”

  “You,” Lark answered truthfully. “I wanted my mother to hear you sing because . . . because I thought you would be the perfect person to replace Aidan in Abbey Road. Telling her I was going to sing solo was the only way I could convince her to come to the show.”

  Teddy stared at her. “So you’re going out there to do the thing that scares you most in the whole world . . . for me?”

  Lark nodded. “For you . . . for the boys . . . and especially for my mom. Abbey Road means so much to her, and I couldn’t stand to see it fail. I know she just needs to see you perform to realize you’ve got the talent and charisma to be the band’s new keyboard player. But the only way I could get her to come to the show was to say that I was going to sing my song. You know, the one I showed you.”

  “‘Is It Just Me?’”

  “That’s the one. But now I’ve gone and put myself in this horrible situation for nothing because she isn’t even here.” Lark’s voice caught and she struggled to keep the tears out of her eyes. “She didn’t show up.”

  Teddy looked overwhelmed. “That’s the most awesome thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Lark shook her head and sighed. “I guess it’s true what they say. No good deed goes unpunished.”

  The bagpiper had finished piping and Howie the magician was preparing to pull a rabbit out of his hat. That meant Lark was up next.

  “Can you hold this for me?” she said, thrusting her guitar into Teddy’s hand.

  Feeling sick to her stomach, she ran to the girls’ dressing area, tugged off her sweater, changed into her faded jeans, and wriggled into her peasant blouse. Then she wrestled her hair into a loose up-do and flew back to the stage, putting the dangly earrings on as she ran.

  Teddy was right where she’d left him, holding her guitar.

  He did a double take when he saw her new look. “Wow! You look like a real country star.”

  Lark blushed. “I do?”

  Onstage, Howie Dornbaum was finishing his magic act by putting Principal Hardy into a large cabinet and sawing her in half. This was a huge hit with the students in the audience.

  “I wish he had one of those boxes where he could make someone disappear,” Lark murmured. “I’d volunteer.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said Howie, “for my final illusion, I will put Principal Hardy back together.”

  Someone in the crowd called out, “Do you have to?” and everyone laughed.

  Howie raised his arms and spoke an incantation. There was an enormous glittering puff of smoke and—presto! Principal Hardy stepped out of the cabinet, all in one piece.

  Howie took his bow, then gathered up his top hat and the rabbit and left the stage.

  Lark’s knees buckled.

  “And now, for our final performance of the evening,” said Principal Hardy, “here is Lark Campbell, singing a song she wrote herself. Let’s hear it for Lark!”

  The crowd clapped politely, waiting for Lark to take the stage.

  But Lark remained frozen in the wings.

  At the mike, the principal frowned. “Lark Campbell,” she repeated.

  “Go on,” Teddy urged. “You’ll be great.”

  But Lark just shook her head. Her fingers were numb and her face felt as if it were on fire. “I can’t. I just can’t go out there all alone.”

  The applause faded to an awkward hush. Principal Hardy scowled into the wings and gestured anxiously for Lark to take the stage.

  Still, Lark could not move. “I can’t,” she whispered to Teddy. “Oh, God, I feel like such a loser.”

  “Everyone does sometimes,” Teddy whispered back. “Remember? Which is why you and I are going to sing your song . . . together.”

  To Lark’s shock, Teddy reached out and took her hand. With a little tug, he guided her onto the stage.

  Lark was glad for the glare of the lights. She didn’t want to see the sneering expressions on those hundreds of faces in the audience.

  “All you have to do is start playing,” Teddy whispered. “I’m right here. I’ll be singing with you, so just start—”

  He was cut off by the loud squeal of the double doors opening at the far end of the auditorium. All heads swiveled to glower at the late arrivals.

  Lark squinted into the glare, shading her eyes with her hand. She could just make out two figures, hurrying down the center aisle.

  For a moment, she thought the spotlights had seriously altered her vision, because she could have sworn she was looking at . . .

  Her dad!

  It was him! He was following her mom as they skittered along the row of folding chairs to take their seats in the third row, next to Max and Ollie.

  So the second empty seat didn’t belong to one of Mimi’s relations. Donna had reserved it for Jackson!

  Lark’s heart soared—just like a songbird.

  She slid onto the stool and cradled her guitar.

  Teddy grinned. “Okay, so, looks like you’ve got this. I’ll leave you to it.”

  “No,” said Lark. “Stay. Sing with me. Please?”

  Teddy’s answer was to sit down at the piano and count her in. “One, two . . . one, two, three four . . .”

  And for the second time that night, Lark and Teddy filled the room with song. Behind t
hem, Mimi’s video montage was like a piece of moving art. The images faded in and out of one another . . . close-ups of Lark, smiling as she sang, strumming her guitar, swaying in time to the music, floating in the pool . . .

  Is it just me, or do you feel this way, too?

  I’m feeling so lost, like I don’t have a clue.

  Is it just me, thinking life’s not on my side?

  Is it just me, swimming against the tide?

  The melody was sweet and the words were straight from the heart. Lark could feel every beat of it pulsing through her. When her eyes went to her parents, beaming with pride, she realized she had never been less afraid in her whole life.

  When the song was over, the crowd rose to its feet to give the performers a standing ovation.

  On the screen, the montage was ending with a slow-motion image of Lark, her back to the camera, walking toward the pink-and-gold clouds of a summer sunset. It lingered a moment, then faded to black as she and Teddy bowed once, then held hands and bowed again.

  “Is this the best feeling in the world?” Lark shouted to him over the thunderous applause. “Or is it just me?”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s not just you,” he shouted back.

  Teddy and Lark moved upstage to allow the other acts to file out and take their final bows. Then Principal Hardy returned and waved her hands to get the audience to settle down.

  It was time for the awards.

  But as far as Lark was concerned, she’d already won.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  Lark zigzagged through the crush of families, classmates, and teachers. She replied with polite thank-yous to the people who called out congratulations as she hurried past, but she refused to stop or even slow down until she found who she was looking for.

  She was so excited, she’d barely been able to listen as Principal Hardy announced the results of the competition. Teddy had to give her a nudge when their names were announced as the joint winning act for both the songs they performed together. Their prize was a gift certificate to Ice Cream Lab on Santa Monica Boulevard.

  Then had come what was in Lark’s opinion an even more thrilling announcement. The judges had been so impressed with Mimi’s innovative video montage that they’d given her the runner-up award to honor the skill and sophistication of her work.