Turn It Up

by Melanie Spring

  “So how long have you been a volunteer here?” she asked Daniel.

  “Like a year, year and a half? My high school actually requires community service. Although I’d want to do this even if it wasn’t required. HH does really important work for the community,” Daniel replied.

  “What high school do you go to?” Chloe asked curiously.

  “Sunny Valley Performing Arts. Can’t you tell?” Daniel grinned and pointed at his T-shirt, which had a picture of a stringed instrument on it.

  Chloe peered at the image. “You play the violin?” she guessed.

  “Yep. Classical.” Daniel balled up a UCLA hoodie and tossed it into the laundry bin. “Score! Yeah, my parents claim that when I was four years old, I made a quote-unquote violin out of rubber bands and an empty Kleenex box and played it constantly. Eventually, they saved up enough money to buy me a real one, and lessons, too.”

  “That’s so cool!” Chloe mostly hung out with cheerleaders and jocks. Besides Emily and the Hashtag members, she didn’t know any musicians. And she definitely didn’t know any classical musicians. “Do you like it there? At Sunny Valley Performing Arts, I mean?”

  “Yes. And no. I have a regular tenth-grade curriculum in the morning, like advanced algebra and bio and whatever. Then I have music all afternoon—private lessons, chamber, orchestra, ear training, theory, you name it.” Daniel paused to hold up a pair of worn leather gloves to the light. “It’s pretty intense. But I want to be a professional violinist. And Performing Arts is the best place to train for that.”

  Chloe nodded. She admired a guy who was passionate about what he did. She felt the same way about cheering. In fact, she’d been thinking a lot about her future lately. Over break, she’d even checked out some websites for colleges with strong cheering programs. Not that she had to worry about college applications yet, but still…

  “What about you? Do you go to one of the public high schools? Or St. Dominic? Or the Academy?” Daniel asked her.

  “Northside High. I’m a freshman. I totally love it,” Chloe replied.

  “My little sister goes there, too. Although…” Daniel hesitated. “I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be living in Sunny Valley. We may be moving. I don’t know.”

  Chloe turned toward him. “Wait, what? You’re moving? But what about school and violin and all that stuff?”

  “Yeah. The thing is, our dad got laid off from his job a few months ago,” Daniel explained. “My parents don’t like to talk about it, but my sister and I overheard them last week, worrying about money. We might have to sell our house. And if that happens, I’m not sure where we’ll go. Maybe move to Albuquerque and live with my grandparents or something.”

  “Oh my gosh! That’s awful!” Chloe exclaimed.

  “Sorry if I’m oversharing. I figured I should let you know, since I may not be volunteering here for much longer. Albuquerque’s kind of far away.” Daniel smiled sadly.

  “No, no! Don’t be sorry!” Chloe told him.

  The door opened and Mrs. Hillman stuck her head inside. “Daniel? Your mom and sister are here to pick you up,” she called out.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Hillman.” Daniel stood and brushed his hands against his jeans. He picked up his iPod and stuffed it into his back pocket. “Sorry to cut out on you early, Chloe. I’m usually here till two, but I have this audition I can’t miss.”

  “No problem! I can finish up,” Chloe replied.

  “See you next Saturday. Now you know my whole life story, and I totally want to hear yours,” Daniel told her.

  He waved and left. As he walked through the door, Chloe noticed a woman and a girl waiting for him on the other side. Their backs were turned to Chloe.

  The girl had long, wavy hair the same color as Daniel’s. Chloe scooted up to the door before it closed and held it open a crack.

  She stifled a gasp when she caught sight of the girl’s profile.

  It was Gemma Moore from cheerleading.

  Gemma was Daniel’s little sister!

  CHAPTER 6

  “Los Angeles is sick. Everything happens here. Sunny Valley is totally boring in comparison,” Travis remarked to Emily as he turned his car onto Melrose Avenue.

  “Definitely,” Emily agreed. She put her feet up on the dashboard, rolled down the window, and gazed out at the row of trendy restaurants, cafés, and boutiques that lined the famous street. “Omigosh, is that Harry Styles walking into that hair salon?” she practically screamed.

  “Um, no? If it was, there’d be paparazzi all over the place,” Travis told her. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s somewhere in LA, though. This city is crawling with celebrities.”

  Emily nodded mutely. Pinch me, she wanted to say. I’m driving around in Hollywood—and omigosh there’s that famous gym I read about—on my way to meet some VIP at Rampage Records!

  If only she could share all this with Chloe and Kate. But they would freak out and tell her she was making a huge mistake, especially with Nationals coming up. Last November, Emily had almost made the team forfeit Regionals because she’d been recording with Hashtag at SV Studios and barely got to the competition on time. And her friends wouldn’t appreciate the fact that she’d lied about missing the mandatory Sunday practice session today. She’d texted them both earlier, saying she had the flu.

  She’d lied to her parents, too, telling them that Travis was giving her a ride to a one o’clock Hashtag rehearsal at his house, followed by the two o’clock practice at school. They had no idea she was in Los Angeles right now, en route to a two-thirty meeting at a record company.

  They would totally kill me if they found out, Emily thought with a shudder. But she couldn’t dwell on that. She had to focus on the here and now. Was she wearing the right outfit? (It had taken hours to decide between her black-jeans-and-blazer combo and her floral sundress before finally settling on the former. She’d even added eye shadow, blush, and lip gloss, which she normally didn’t wear.) What should she say at the meeting? Or should she let Travis do all the talking?

  Ten minutes later, Travis pulled into the parking lot of a modern white building on Santa Monica Boulevard. Once inside, they rode the elevator up to the third floor.

  “You look pretty, Ems,” Travis complimented her. “You’re wearing, like… lip stuff.”

  Emily tried to think of a funny comeback. Usually, she was full of them. But at the moment, with Travis staring at her in a dreamy-crush way, she felt completely tongue-tied. “Thanks” was all she could manage.

  The elevator doors opened to reveal a glass-walled lobby with a panoramic view of the city. Dozens of vinyl album covers and framed music awards covered the bright orange walls. The receptionist asked them to have a seat while she called Jacinta.

  A cute guy with spiky platinum hair came out shortly and introduced himself as Niles, Jacinta’s assistant. “I’ll take you back to Jacinta now. Can I get you guys something? Water? A latte? Green tea?”

  “A glass of water, please,” Travis said as he and Emily followed Niles down the hall.

  “I’ll have the same,” Emily said.

  “Ice or room temp?”

  “Um… ice?” Emily said.

  Travis nodded.

  “I’ll get that for you straightaway.” Niles paused in front of a doorway at the end of the hall and waved them in.

  A tall woman with long, shiny black hair rose from her desk and held out her hand. “Travis. Emily. I’m Jacinta. Welcome! Thanks so much for giving up your Sunday afternoon to come see me,” she said warmly.

  “Do you guys always work weekends?” Travis asked as he shook Jacinta’s hand.

  “Not always. But this time of year, with the Grammys coming up, we’re insanely busy. Plus, we’re launching Calla’s new single this week,” Jacinta explained.

  “Calla’s got a new single?” Emily burst out.

  Jacinta smiled. “You’re a fan? I’ll have Niles send you a download.”

  “Seriously? Thank you!” Emily gushed.
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  Jacinta gestured for Emily and Travis to make themselves comfortable on a white leather couch. Jacinta sat in a chair across from them. Niles came in with two glasses of ice water and set them down on the surfboard-shaped coffee table.

  Emily took a long sip of her water. It had mint sprigs and lemon slices in it. Even the water’s fancy here, she thought in awe.

  “So here’s the deal,” Jacinta began. “We absolutely loved your demo. Hashtag has a raw, passionate hometown vibe that we think will resonate with today’s audience.” She paused and steepled her hands under her chin. “We’d love for you to write and record a few softer, slower numbers, though. Maybe a couple of love songs featuring your vocals, Emily?”

  “Me?” Emily said, surprised.

  Travis regarded her with a pleased I-told-you-so expression.

  “Yes, you. You have a terrific voice,” Jacinta said enthusiastically. “Plus, you know when to be a diva with the vocals and when to take a backseat and let the instrumentals dominate. Not every fourteen-year-old has those kinds of instincts. You’re a natural performer, Emily.”

  “Um… thanks!” Emily said, blushing. She couldn’t wait to text Chloe, Kate, and Devin and repeat everything Jacinta had just said.

  Except… Devin was the only one she could tell. Chloe and Kate thought she was laid up in bed with the flu. Ugh.

  Jacinta picked up her phone and scrolled through it. “Just checking our schedule here. Hmmm. Why don’t we set Hashtag up in the recording studio in, say… mid-February? How about February sixteenth? That would give you a little over a month to write a couple new songs, rehearse, and so forth. We’ll also have time to talk to your parents by then, too, since we’ll need to have them on board. What do you say?”

  February sixteenth? Emily gulped. Nationals were on the eighth and ninth. They wouldn’t even be flying back from Orlando until the tenth. Emily planned to shift into high gear as soon as they were back to get ready for the Valentine’s Day dance; it was set for the fifteenth, since there was a basketball game on the fourteenth.

  All of which left zero time for Emily to get ready for a recording session.

  “I’m not sure if—” Emily began.

  “February sixteenth is perfect!” Travis cut in with a quick sideways glance at Emily. “We’re really psyched about your interest in Hashtag. We won’t let you down, Ms. Cruz.”

  “Jacinta, please.” Her phone buzzed. “I’m so sorry, I have to take this. There’s a fashion show tonight to raise money for charity, and one of our artists is a runway model. I think she’s having a little emergency.”

  Emily perked up. For a brief second, she forgot all about her scheduling nightmare.

  A fashion show? For charity?

  Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  As soon as Emily got into Travis’s car, she extracted Chad from her purse. Her fingers practically flew as she texted Devin with an update:

  Just got out of Rampage Records meeting. So much 2 tell U!!!

  A minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. No reply.

  Then Emily remembered. It was the middle of the afternoon. Devin was at Northside High with the rest of the squad, practicing. For a moment, Emily pictured the seventeen girls stretching on the mats, doing toe touches, running tumbling passes—all without her. She bit her lip, trying not to feel like a jerk.

  “So this is epic, right?” Travis was gripping the steering wheel in excitement as he pulled out of the parking lot. He stopped briefly to pop the Hashtag demo into his CD player, then kept driving. “Alex, Kyle, and I can get busy on the new songs. I’d love your help on the lyrics, though. Have you ever written lyrics before?”

  “No,” Emily replied. “I wrote a poem for English once, about unicorns. But that probably doesn’t count, right?”

  Travis laughed. “Uh, not exactly what I had in mind. But no worries. I’m sure you’ll be a natural at it. Do you want to come over tonight and we can work on it?”

  “Um…” Emily hesitated.

  Travis glanced over. “Emily? Is there a problem?”

  “I’m thinking. About Jacinta’s offer, I mean.”

  “Seriously? Jacinta’s giving us the chance to become famous. What’s there to think about?”

  Emily sighed. Her gaze fell on the Rampage Records tote bag at her feet. Niles had given one to her and one to Travis, filled with Rampage Records coffee mugs, Rampage Records T-shirts, and a pair of Rampage Records sunglasses with the rhinestone initials RR on the rims.

  She honestly didn’t know what to do. Travis was right. Forget the bad timing. Jacinta was handing Emily the opportunity of a lifetime on a silver platter.

  There was no question that Emily loved to sing. Or, more accurately, to be up onstage. Last fall, Emily had performed with Hashtag for the Northside homecoming dance. As soon as the night was over, she’d immediately craved more—more blazing spotlights, more cheering crowd, more swaying to the beat with her eyes closed as her voice rose up from a deep, soulful place within her that she’d never known existed.

  But she loved being a cheerleader, too. It was a different kind of performing, and it challenged her mentally and physically, pushed her to the edge. She had dreamed of being on the NHS JV squad since she was a little kid. She had achieved that dream—and she had a good chance at making the Varsity squad, too, after tryouts in April. Why would she throw all that away?

  Emily had signed on to cheer this season and at Nationals. And she was already slacking off. She’d skipped practice today and lied about it to Coach Steele, her parents, and her friends.

  As for the recording session on February sixteenth… how on earth was she going to manage that without having to clone herself?

  “Well?” Travis prompted her. “What’s your decision?”

  The second track came on. Travis turned up the volume. Emily listened to herself singing a song about having it all. She sounded good. Great, actually.

  “Just give me a little time. A few more days. I promise,” Emily said finally.

  Travis reached over and squeezed her hand. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Emily squeezed his hand back, pleased and surprised that Travis was being so understanding about it all. She started to pull her hand away. But Travis wouldn’t let go.

  “I know you’ll make the right decision in the end,” he said, weaving his fingers through hers.

  Emily tensed. Was he holding her hand? Were they holding hands? What was happening here? She stared straight ahead and tried to act cool, like it was no big deal, even though her heart was racing wildly in her chest.

  They stayed that way all the way home, driving the 101 to Sunny Valley, listening to Hashtag songs full blast.

  CHAPTER 7

  “So I think you should play the role of the lead defense attorney, and I’ll play the second chair,” Mateo suggested to Devin.

  Devin picked up her pencil and doodled a smiley face in her notebook. “Why do you get the easy part? Not fair,” she complained.

  “Okay, then you play the second chair,” Mateo said. “But I think you’d be better with the judge and the jury. The way you talk in class? You have this calm, cool way of convincing Mr. Weaver you’re right, even when you’re wrong.”

  “That’s because I’m always right,” Devin joked.

  “Yeah, you wish!” Mateo grinned.

  Devin grinned back, wondering for the tenth time why Mateo had asked her to partner up with him for the mock-trial project for history. Was he just a dumb, cute jock who wanted to coast on her straight As in Mr. Weaver’s class?

  But sitting here, talking to Mateo during Monday afternoon study hall, she was beginning to think that he was anything but dumb. Cute, yes. Dumb, not at all. In fact, he’d spent the last half hour explaining to her why it was important that they cite case law during their pretrial motion. He’d then explained to her what case law and pretrial motions were, since she wasn’t familiar
with the terms.

  Devin had never done a mock trial before; it involved a bunch of people acting out a historical or made-up trial. In this case, Mr. Weaver had assigned them the latter, about a man who’d been arrested for treason. Devin and Mateo were the defense team. The remaining students filled out the rest of the cast, including the prosecution’s team, the judge, and the twelve members of the jury. Mr. Weaver planned to play the defendant, a fictional character named Arnold Benedict.

  Devin leaned over her notebook, letting her hair spill across the pages. She was glad she’d used her new shampoo, which smelled like strawberries. She idly added black curls to her smiley face. “So how are we going to prove Mr. Weaver, I mean, Mr. Benedict, innocent?” she wondered out loud.

  “We have to sift through the evidence first. Mr. Weaver gave me the file. Here’s half of it. I’ll take the other half.” Mateo handed her a stack of papers.

  Devin took the pile from him and began leafing through the pages. “How do you know so much about legal stuff, anyway?” she asked curiously.

  “My dad’s an immigration lawyer,” Mateo replied. “His dad, my abuelo, teaches human rights law at UCLA. I think everyone kind of expects me to go to law school someday, too.”

  “Do you want to go to law school?”

  “No idea. When I was little, I wanted to be a firefighter, then an astronaut, then a farmer. Oh, and the president of the United States.” Mateo smiled. “That’s about as far as I’ve gotten with my career goals.”

  Devin laughed. “When I was little, I wanted to be a mermaid.”

  “You would make an awesome mermaid,” Mateo told her.

  “Gosh, thanks!”

  “You’re welcome. Speaking of, have you ever gone scuba diving? I just got my certification.”

  “No, but that’s so cool!” Devin had always admired divers. She herself had a hard time even putting her head underwater. So much for being a mermaid, she thought wryly.