Dead Is a Killer Tune

by Marlene Perez

  A song began to play in the distance. One of the other bands was probably warming up, but there was something about the melody that sent a chill through me.

  Trevor, the lead singer of Drew Barrymore’s Boyfriends, was surrounded by fans, but the mob was no longer friendly. There were screams and shouts and then Trevor disappeared from view.

  Two girls tugged on his arms like he was a wishbone while another one grabbed his shirt and ripped it off him.

  “I think Trevor needs help,” I said. Then I was up and in the middle of the group of girls. “Break it up!” I said. “What is wrong with you people?”

  They wouldn’t listen to me. A tall brunette reached over and pulled out a chunk of his hair, which had to hurt.

  Dominic had joined me. “Jessica, we need to get him out of here!” he yelled. “They’re out of control.”

  I stood in front of Trevor while Dominic hauled him to his feet. The fans rushed us again, but I managed to block them.

  “I think it’s the music,” I said. “They won’t stop as long as that music is playing.”

  “Where’s it coming from?” Dominic asked.

  Trevor climbed on top of a picnic table and stood there. We climbed up after him. His lip was bleeding and he looked somewhat dazed. A few of the fans still tried to reach him.

  “Where’s security?” Dominic asked. “There’s got to be some bouncers here, with a crowd this size.”

  I pointed to a big guy who had one of Trevor’s feet and was tugging off his shoe. “He is security. We’ve got to get Trevor out of here,” I said. “Or stop the music.”

  “You take him to my car,” Dominic said. He tossed me his car keys. “I’ll find out where the music is coming from and meet you there.” He jumped off the picnic table and shouldered his way through the crowd.

  People were swarming us as the music continued to grow more ominous by the second. I was afraid we wouldn’t make it to the car if we left the relative safety of the picnic table.

  A girl with pink streaks in her hair and long fake fingernails jumped up on the table. She clawed at Trevor’s face, but I blocked her and then shoved her to the ground.

  A tall guy in a beanie and ripped jeans reached for Trevor’s leg and tried to drag him off the table. I kicked him until he lost his grip, but he and the rest of the fans kept coming. I couldn’t figure it out. It was a seemingly random outbreak of violence. These people were determined to hurt Trevor and I was determined to stop them.

  The crowd started throwing anything they could get their hands on—food, full soda cans, and even a beach chair, which I managed to grab and use as a defensive weapon.

  I thought about making a break for the nearest tree, but I wasn’t sure Trevor was up for climbing.

  Without warning, the music finally stopped and so did the attack. The mob lost interest in Trevor immediately. It was like a switch had been turned off. Within minutes, the concert-goers were back to sitting on the grass, hanging out, and tossing Frisbees.

  I helped Trevor down. He was limping, and a large bruise had formed under his eye from where a soda can had hit him.

  “What was that all about?” he said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I’m going to find out. Can you walk?”

  He nodded and we headed to the car. Dominic caught up to us a few minutes later as I was unlocking the car door.

  “Jessica, you’re bleeding,” he said. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

  I looked down. There was a long scratch on my left arm. “I’m fine.”

  “Did you see where the music came from?” I asked him.

  “No,” he said. I followed the sound, but it stopped before I could get to the source. “But I found this.” He held out a satin jacket that had HAMLIN embroidered on the back. I turned it over and saw the name on the front.

  “I think the Pied Piper is Brett,” I said.

  Dominic didn’t even ask any questions. “We’re going to have to prove it. Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Side Effects May Vary wasn’t on until seven, but everyone in the band had already squeezed into the assigned dressing room at the library, which I was pretty sure used to be a broom closet. Even though Jeff Cool wasn’t performing, he was there—“for moral support,” or so he said.

  “You’re going onstage like that?” Jeff’s derisive comment was meant to shake my confidence and it did, almost as much as his sheer presence. He had no way of knowing that I couldn’t wait for those broken arms of his to heal.

  “Knock it off, Jeff,” Dominic said. “I mean it.”

  “Is there something wrong with the way I look?” I wore black jeans and a faded band T-shirt. When I got dressed, I thought I was rockin’ the whole understated thing.

  Katrina threw something red and sparkly at me. “Here, put this on. You’ll stand out in red.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to stand out, but I took the clothing and held it up. Red sequined pants. They looked impossibly small.

  “Don’t worry, they stretch,” she assured me.

  “They’d better,” I said under my breath, and then went to the girls’ bathroom to change. The band was pretty casual about changing in front of one another, but there was no way I was going to try to wiggle into those pants in front of Dominic. Or anyone else.

  “What should I do with my hair?” I muttered. “Up or down?”

  “Up,” a voice behind me said. It was Sam. “Want some help?”

  I whirled around and gave her a hug. “You made it!”

  “Sean’s here too,” she said. “He’s saving us seats up front. Now, about your hair.”

  “I don’t know what to do with it,” I admitted. “Or makeup. Katrina said I need to wear more so it will show up under the lights.”

  “We could do a bunch of different things. Your hair is so pretty.”

  “You mean red,” I replied. “All the other girls in the family have that gorgeous strawberry blond hair and I got stuck with this.”

  “This,” she said, holding up a handful of my hair, “is hair that people would kill for.”

  “Don’t say that,” I said, sitting down in a chair so Sam could get to my hair more easily. “You have five minutes.”

  “I could do more if I had my flat iron or curler,” she said. She took a comb and some hair spray from her purse and did some major hair tweaking. She finally let me look. She’d braided the long strands of hair framing my face and wrapped them up and around into a cool twisty hairdo.

  “It’s perfect!”

  “Now hold still while I do your makeup,” she said.

  She whipped out a makeup bag and proceeded to apply eyeliner with the skill of a professional.

  “Thanks, Sam,” I said. “I’ve got to go! See you after the show.”

  I needed a minute to calm my nerves. At least I looked good, thanks to Sam.

  I joined the rest of the band.

  “Still no Vinnie,” Katrina said grimly.

  Just then, there was a knock on our dressing room door. I opened it and greeted Harmony, who was carrying a pair of drumsticks.

  “Am I late?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” I said. I explained to the rest of the band that Harmony had agreed to be on standby, just in case Vinnie didn’t show.

  “It’s not going to work,” Jeff said dismissively.

  “Shut up, Jeff,” Dominic growled. “Do you have any better ideas?”

  “She plays a bunch of instruments,” I said. “She’s a musical genius. Only she can’t—” I stopped, unsure how to put it.

  “I can’t sing,” Harmony said from the doorway. “But I can play.”

  “Thanks for helping out,” Katrina said graciously.

  “Are you ready?” Dominic asked.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.

  “She looks ready to throw up,” Jeff said. “Better get the barf bag ready.”

  Suddenly, I did feel like throwing up. I rushed outside, b
ut the sound of his laughter followed me.

  The crowd was much larger than any we had played for before. “I can’t do this,” I moaned.

  Dominic had followed me out. He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Sure you can.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me to picture the audience naked,” I told him. “My parents are out there.”

  He laughed. “I was going to say picture one person to sing to and focus on his or her face. Pretend that person is the only one in the room.”

  The nausea receded. “Who do you picture?” I asked impulsively. His face clouded and I added, “Never mind. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “I always picture your face,” he said.

  I smiled at him. “Really?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Always.”

  Our eyes locked and neither of us looked away.

  “We’re on,” Katrina said. “Are you two ready?”

  I nodded. The announcer’s voice seemed to come from far away. “Please welcome Side Effects May Vary.”

  Dominic gave me a reassuring smile before we took the stage. I looked out at the crowd, but I couldn’t focus or find that face to calm me down.

  My brother Sean let out a whistle I’d recognize anywhere. The first note rang out and I realized I was supposed to play along. I took a deep breath and gripped my pick tightly as I strummed.

  I managed not to hyperventilate during the first two songs, but then it was time for me to actually sing the duet with Dominic. The band had voted to sing the acoustic version of “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” at our last performance.We’d practiced some basic choreography, but it went completely out of my brain. Dominic caught my panicked look and crossed to where I stood, still holding the mike.

  I finally remembered the words and the notes. Neither of us looked at the crowd once, which might not have been very exciting for them, but it made my heart beat faster.

  After it was all over, I noticed that Ryan and Daisy were in the audience.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  “I had no idea you were so talented,” Daisy said when I approached them. “I knew you could play the guitar, but you have a beautiful voice.”

  “Jessica, you were amazing,” Ryan said.

  I blushed. My crush hadn’t entirely faded, despite my feelings for Dominic. “Um, Ryan, I wanted to ask your advice.”

  “Everything okay?” Ryan asked.

  “It’s not for me,” I said. “It’s for a friend.”

  “I’ll let you talk,” Daisy said. “Ryan, see you at the house. Sean and Sam are coming over too.”

  He gave her a lingering kiss goodbye and I turned away.

  After Daisy left, I said, “I think my friend is . . . like you, and I need to know how to help him.”

  “Like me how?” Ryan said. “Tall, with green eyes?”

  I started stammering all over the place, but he stopped me with a smile. “I was just kidding,” he said. “You have a friend who gets furry?”

  “I think so,” I said. “He hasn’t exactly told me anything yet.”

  “Then what makes you think he’s a werewolf?” Ryan asked.

  “He’s been moody,” I said. “And he’s bulked up quite a bit. Not as much as Sean did, but a lot.”

  “How old is he?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “He’s a sophomore.”

  “Do you mean him? The lead singer?” Ryan asked. He gestured toward someone behind me.

  I turned and saw Dominic. “No!” I said. “I think he has more in common with Daisy, psychically speaking. I’m talking about Connor Archer.”

  “Connor?” Ryan said. “I know his brother. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Thanks, Ryan,” I said. “I think he could use a friend who has already been through it.”

  “Gotta go,” he said. “But we’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  That’s when the judges were going to announce the finalists. And immediately after that, the bands who had made the cut would be performing to determine who would win the grand prize.

  Chapter Twenty

  I awoke in a panic early on Sunday, afraid that I’d overslept and missed the announcement, but the clock on my nightstand reassured me.

  Dominic had offered to give me a ride to the park, so I got ready, grabbed my guitar, and waited for him on the front porch.

  As I sat there, I spotted a tiny figure making his way across the window ledge. I scooped him up before he could protest.

  “Prince Humphrey,” I said. “Princess Antonia has been worried sick about you.”

  He snorted. “The only person Her Royal Highness worries about is herself.”

  “She’s been distraught,” I said.

  “I have spent an eternity with her,” he said. “She is a spoiled little girl.”

  “What’s your plan then?” I asked.

  “I will seek my fortune in a new land,” he said grandly. But he didn’t sound too happy about it.

  Dominic’s car pulled into my driveway. I didn’t have time to mediate a lovers’ tiff, so I ran inside and then tiptoed into Katie’s room. I placed the prince into his bedroom. “Think about it,” I whispered. “She’s not so bad.”

  I’d deal with them later. Dominic was waiting.

  I slid my guitar into the trunk of his car and then we were on our way.

  “Nervous?” Dominic asked.

  “Yes, definitely,” I said.

  When we got to the park, I was happy to see that many of my friends in Nightshade had come out to support Side Effects May Vary. My parents and sisters arrived, all carrying signs. The Giordano girls and their boyfriends, with the exception of Poppy’s guy, who didn’t do sunlight, were in the audience too. Mr. and Mrs. Giordano were holding hands in the back. Raven and Andy waved from the front row.

  Teddie Myles made the announcement. “The envelope, please,” she said. A brief pause and then, “The finalists for the first annual Battle of the Bands are Drew Barrymore’s Boyfriends, Hamlin, and Side Effects May Vary. The bands will be performing in that order, beginning in approximately one hour.”

  My dad let out a loud whoop and then everyone applauded.

  Before we played, I ran into Selena. “Sorry you guys didn’t make it,” I said. “You were good.”

  “We’ll play again one of these days, don’t worry.” Selena smiled. “Burning the sheet music was smart,” she said. “I should have thought of it earlier. Harmony wouldn’t have had to go through so much pain if I’d just—”

  “None of us knew what to do,” I said. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

  “Thanks, Jessica. And if you decide not to join Side Effects May Vary, give us a call,” she said. “We’d love to have you as our lead singer.”

  Me? A lead singer?

  Dominic came up and heard the last part of the conversation. “Trying to steal her away from me, Selena?”

  She gave him a cryptic look. “Not from you, just from the band.”

  “Want to watch Drew Barrymore’s Boyfriends?” Dominic asked. “We’re last and I don’t feel like being cooped up in a dressing room.”

  After DBBF’s first song, I said, “They’re amazing. Trevor looks pretty good, considering he was attacked by an angry mob yesterday.”

  The band’s set ended and then it was Hamlin’s turn. “Wanna stay?” Dominic asked.

  “Might as well,” I said. “At least as long as I can take it.”

  Teddie then introduced Hamlin and I looked around.

  “There aren’t as many of their fans here as normal,” Dominic said.

  “That’s because a bunch of them are locked up,” I said. “Or at least I hope they are.” I told him what had happened to Slim’s.

  There was a loud screeching sound as Brett sang too close to the microphone. I wasn’t sure which noise hurt my ears more, the feedback or his singing.

  Whatever magical hold Brett had over his fans was gone. There were cries of disbelief and one girl even held her hands
over her ears. A couple of people took off their Hamlin tees and turned them inside out before putting them back on so the band’s name was hidden from view.

  Before the song even ended, Brett threw his guitar down and stomped offstage. “I’ll dazzle them at the encore,” he said. “As soon as I find that guitar.”

  But there wasn’t an encore. Side Effects May Vary played next. We did all of our best-loved covers and Dominic wasn’t interrupted by premonitions once. It was an incredible set.

  Afterward, Teddie went onstage. “The winner for the first annual Nightshade Battle of the Bands is . . . Side Effects May Vary!”

  Dominic picked me up and twirled me around. As he put me back on the ground, I did something neither of us expected. I kissed him.

  The next thing I heard was the sound of clapping. “You’d better get up there,” someone advised us.

  Dominic grabbed my hand and we walked onstage.

  Teddie handed Katrina an oversized check and she held it in the air and grinned.

  As the applause died down, Brett stormed onstage. “You’re going to regret this,” he shouted. He’d obviously found his guitar. He started to play softly, but even then, I could tell he was mangling the chords. There was a strange squeaking noise coming from somewhere.

  At first I thought it came from his guitar, but then I realized it was something else. A dark blob appeared on the street. The louder Brett played, the bigger it became until it came close enough that I could see it wasn’t a dark blob at all. It was hundreds of rats, streaming into the park.

  “Smash his guitar!” I yelled to Dominic, who stood next to Brett.

  “What?” he asked. It was hard to hear above the squealing.

  “Smash it,” I said, but he still didn’t hear me.

  I ran over and yanked the guitar out of Brett’s hands and then took it by one end and smashed it on the ground. The music stopped, but the rats kept coming.

  “It’s not him,” I yelled.

  “No, it’s me,” Mitch Peverell said. He walked through the crowd, holding a flute, one that looked very familiar. He walked toward us and brought the flute to his lips.

  I had to do something.

  “You stole the flute, Mr. Peverell,” I accused him. “And you used it to off the competition. You even killed Mr. Lindquist.”