The Victoria in My Head
Page 29
“No, they won’t. They’re totally closed-minded.”
“And what about you?”
I point to my head and say, “Wide open, babe.”
“Open as Fort Knox,” he replies, and then he kisses me before I can respond, the type of kiss that makes me forget what I had to say.
Later that night I’m in my room putting on my pajamas and I hear a noise outside my room. I look down and I see that Dad has slid his beloved Creedence CD under the door. There’s a Post-it note on it that says, Can you and Strand learn #17?
Chapter Fifty-Six
“DEBASER”
—THE PIXIES
I think about Strand’s words from the night before the quince. I can control the course of my life, even if it means disappointing my family. The fact that they risked everything to come to this country doesn’t make my decision any easier. But I have to think that they came here so I would have the freedom to make choices for myself. To find my own happiness, whatever that might be. Maybe I won’t get in to NYU. Maybe I’ll get in to Harvard and spend the next four years keeping my family sane. Maybe I’ll run away with Strand and enroll in the College of Life. The important thing is that I know something that will make me happy now . . . and I can figure out the rest later.
I slip the note into Levi’s locker early Friday morning before he gets to school. There’s nothing else to do but wait. I go through my morning classes, and at lunch I tell Strand and Krina to meet me in the music room after school.
“You can come too, Annie,” I add.
She shakes her head. “Too much homework.”
Krina makes a face at me. She and Annie are a full-fledged couple now, although they’re not out to their families and everyone at school. I thought it would be strange to see Annie in any kind of relationship, let alone one with Krina. But together, they work. They work so well that it’s strange I didn’t see it. Krina loosens Annie up, and Annie softens Krina’s hard edges. I asked Annie when she realized she had feelings for Krina, and for the first time, Annie didn’t know the answer to a question. She smiled and said, “Sometime in between Sleater-Kinney and Bikini Kill.”
“Does this mean what I think it means?” Strand asks me.
“Yes.”
“And you’re ready for this?”
“I am so ready.”
Annie claps her hands. “Finally! I get to watch my girlfriend bang on the skins!”
“No one calls it that, you big dork,” Krina tells her, lightly tugging on the end of Annie’s braid.
“And we don’t know if Levi’s in,” I add.
No one, including me, has talked to Levi since Strand publicly declared his feelings for me at the Battle of the Boroughs. It may have permanently put a damper on their friendship and any possibility of the band getting back together. Why would Levi want to share the stage with an ex-girlfriend who’s dating his former best friend?
So Strand, Krina, and I wait together in our old practice room down in the Fridman building. In an optimistic mood, they set up their instruments while I sit off to the side, staring at the door.
It’s five minutes after I told Levi to meet us here.
“He’s probably running late,” Krina reasons.
“Levi doesn’t run late,” Strand says. He paces back and forth across the room, and I can tell, as cool as he tries to play it, that he’s nervous about seeing Levi.
Five more minutes pass, and I’m feeling discouraged.
“We can play without him,” Strand suggests, but even he sounds unconvinced.
“We need a bass player,” I say. “Levi is a fantastic bass player. And he was your best friend.”
“You’re my best friend. And we’ll find a new bass player.”
Krina hunches over her drum set. “We won’t find someone as good as he is.”
We wait for two more minutes, and I’m about to call it a day, when the door to the music room swings open and Levi is there with his bass guitar strapped to his back.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says. “Hi, everyone.”
I get to my feet awkwardly. “Levi, hey! We’re—we’re really glad you came.”
I don’t know whether I should hug him or shake his hand or what. Levi does none of the above. He takes his bass guitar out of its case and starts to tune it. Down to business, as always.
“You’re not wearing your glasses,” I notice.
“Oh yeah. . . .” He reaches for his eyes, like he’s making sure the glasses are really gone. “I finally got contacts.”
“You look good, man,” Strand says.
Levi gives him a brisk nod. “Thanks.”
They’re not exactly fast friends again, but it’s a start.
“So, Cutlet, what now?” Strand asks, guitar in hand.
Everyone is looking to me like I’m the one in charge. Even Levi, who is usually the one to declare the set list.
I guess I am. I was the one who called the band together. I jump up to take my place in front of the mic stand and say with more authority than I feel, “We’ll pick up where we left off.”
Krina counts us off, slapping her drumsticks together, and I feel a rumble of excitement in my belly, the way I always feel before the music starts.
Acknowledgments
Victoria would exist solely in my head if not for the help of so many people.
Endless thanks to Jane Dystel and Miriam Goderich at Dystel, Goderich & Bourret LLC. Jane, thank you for your professional guidance and expertise. More important, thank you for believing in me as a writer. Miriam, many thanks for your kindness, your thoughtful input, and for taking a chance on me.
I am truly grateful to my amazing editor, Jen Ung, for seeing the heart of my story and loving the Cruz family as much as I do. Jen, I cannot imagine a better editor for this book. Thank you for your honest, yet somehow always encouraging feedback, and for having my back throughout this process. To Sarah Creech, thank you for the truly badass cover design. The hand-lettering, the images, the colors . . . I drool over it all at least once a day. Also big thanks to the team at Simon Pulse: Mara Anastas, Mary Marotta, Liesa Abrams, Carolyn Swerdloff, Jodie Hockensmith, Christina Pecorale, Chelsea Morgan, Sara Berko, and anyone else who helped turn this story into an actual book.
I owe the biggest debt of gratitude to my parents, Jacqueline and Carlos Milanes, for their unending support. Mom and Dad, none of this would be possible without the sacrifices you’ve made for us. Thank you for being dream squashers when it was warranted and dream builders when it mattered. Thank you for humoring me when I wrote plays, books, and stories growing up. Thank you for the trips to Barnes & Noble so I could restock on Judy Blume and Baby-Sitters Club books.
Alyssa, my first reader ever, you gave me the confidence to go through with this writing thing. Thanks for putting up with my neediness and slapping some sense into me during my moments of self-doubt. You’re the ultimate beta reader and sister. Thanks also to my brother, Nick, for looking over my writing with a keen editor’s eye. Your writing skills constantly impress and inspire me. To my bro-in-law, Alex, thanks for the constant reminder of my Cuban roots. Dale.
Mima, my Miami marketing agent, you are an inspiration to me and everyone around you. Your positive outlook on life, in stark contrast to my worst-case-scenario attitude, is boundless. I try to be more like you every day.
I am thankful to my New York family—the Mulhalls and the Sanzos—for their support, enthusiasm, and love. And, of course, all of the delicious food. To the BFG and other close friends, I could not have survived the publishing process without you. Our weekend trips, shows, dinners, and game nights have kept me sane. Thank you all for reminding me to close the laptop and get out of the house once in a while like a functional human being.
Finally, to my husband, Dan. Thank you for loving and supporting me always, especially in my lowest of moments. Only you can handle me when I have tears in my eyes and toilet paper stuffed up my nose. Here’s to continued writing sessions at Panera, Starb
ucks, the Coop, Caffé Bene, and whatever spots we try next. For many, writing is a lonely endeavor, but not so for us. Love you.
About the Author
Janelle Milanes is originally from Miami, Florida, and studied English literature at Davidson College. A lifelong YA addict, she moved to New York for her first job in children’s publishing before leaving to pursue teaching and writing. The Victoria in My Head is her first novel and reflects many of her own experiences growing up as a second-generation Latina in America.
Janelle lives in Brooklyn with her husband and their two cats. Her favorite Disney princess is Belle, since she was also a big book nerd.
janellemilanes.com
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Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Janelle-Milanes
Simon Pulse
Simon & Schuster, New York
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Simon Pulse hardcover edition September 2017
Text copyright © 2017 by Janelle Milanes
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Milanes, Janelle, author.
Title: The Victoria in my head / Janelle Milanes.
Description: First Simon Pulse hardcover edition. | New York : Simon Pulse, 2017. |
Summary: Shy fifteen-year-old Cuban American Victoria Cruz feels trapped by the monotony of running on the cross country team and keeping up with her studies to maintain her scholarship to her prestigious college prep school, but the chance to join a rock band in need of a lead singer gives her the opportunity to confront her anxieties, find love and disappointment, and create a new playlist for her life.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016048819 |
ISBN 9781481480895 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781481480918 (eBook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Rock groups—Fiction. | Musicians—Fiction. | Bands (Music)—Fiction. | Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. | Preparatory schools—Fiction. |
Schools—Fiction. | Cuban Americans—Fiction. | New York (N.Y.)—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.M556 Vic 2017 |
DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016048819