Lennon's Jinx (Lennon's Girls #1)

by Chris Myers

“What do you think?” I ask.

  “Thank you. We’ll take it from here.”

  I hand them off and hurry to the staging area to talk to Bailey. Several ballerinas float over to me and hug my hips. “Lennon, Lennon,” they cry.

  A few moms wave at me. Several times, Currie has volunteered me as Den Mother for her troop. At first, the parents were leery of a teenager, especially a guy, watching over their pack, but after a while, I gained their trust. The Girl Scouts still talk about me taking them into Chicago to see Wicked.

  However, a year ago, Currie retired her uniform, saying it was too babyish. Several girls followed suit and took up dancing like her. She’s definitely the alpha female.

  Bailey walks over to me and puts a possessive arm around me.

  “Lennon has a girlfriend,” a former Girl Scout croons.

  Zoe and Currie give each other their secret smiles. They know better.

  Guilt heats my cheeks. It’s really not fair to Bailey.

  “Want to get together after the show,” Bailey says.

  “I’d love to, but you know I can’t,” I say.

  She straightens my tie. “I can make up for last night.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Bailey nibbles my ear. God, she’s hot.

  “According to the rumor mill, no one at school hit Jinx,” she says. “There were a couple guys I didn’t recognize at her party though.”

  That has my mind spinning. It’s not right for a guy to hit a girl, even if she deserves it.

  * * *

  My band mates Clive and Danny Boy save me a seat next to Zoe’s parents. Danny holds Susan’s hand. She clings to him like she’s made of static electricity. Danny grins and nuzzles her cheek. What bothers me is that he feeds off it, like a pet guppy skimming the surface for crumbs.

  Currie and Zoe have five numbers to perform, so it’s worth my while to come. I hate it when she only gets to dance once, especially with the small fortune we spend.

  Mrs. Nowak, Zoe’s mom, stands and hugs me before I take my seat. “Good to see you, Lennon.”

  Mr. Nowak shakes my hand. “Lennon.”

  “Would you and Currie like to come over for dinner tomorrow?” She understands our home situation all too well. She fed Currie and me for many years and taught me how to cook and change diapers when Currie was first born. I owe Mrs. Nowak a lot, and she’s a great cook.

  “Actually, I’d like to borrow the girls tomorrow evening for a little shopping in Chicago,” I say. Currie’s probably right about Jinx. It’s doubtful Jinx owns a dress that’ll match our suits, and it gives me a reason to spend tomorrow night with her instead of just an afternoon of tutoring. “I’ll take them to dinner before I drop Zoe back home.” Even more time.

  “Shopping?” Mrs. Nowak knows I don’t subscribe to retail therapy, though for Currie nothing works better to cheer her up after a rotten day of Mom ignoring her, like she did tonight.

  Mrs. Nowak will pull twenty questions on me if I don’t tell her what for. I don’t mind. My mom would never be interested enough to ask. “We added a girl to our band, and we’ve got the Winthrop wedding this weekend.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize Katie had settled down.”

  “Don’t worry,” Clive says. “She hasn’t.”

  Mrs. Nowak smiles at this. Katie is a wild child. She’s been in the local papers more than Lindsey Lohan has splashed the tabloid front covers. If she can leave Clive alone on her big day, the band should do well.

  “It’s no problem if you take the girls,” she says. “Oh shoot, I have reservations at the American Girl Place for lunch tomorrow.”

  “Don’t they have school?” I can never keep up with this. It wouldn’t be the first time I showed up for school and we had the day off.

  “The next two days are in service for teachers and for your school as well.”

  That’s right. I’d forgotten that we had the days off. Teachers get more time off than postal workers. “I’ll take them to American Girl. It’s no problem.” I’ve had many lunches with the girls and their dolls.

  “Would you pick up Zoe in the morning? That’ll free me to take Brea shopping for a new dress. She has her first date this weekend, and I’d really like to help her.” Brea is Zoe’s older sister and a sophomore at my high school.

  “If I can get our new band member out of bed, I’ll be there early.”

  “Give us a call in the morning. Can Currie spend Friday night with us?”

  “What about…” It’s hard for me to say the words without choking on them.

  Mrs. Nowak covers my hand with hers. She knows this upsets me. I can’t imagine what it does to her. “Zoe’s chemo starts Saturday morning.”

  “I have a gig on Friday, so Currie spending the night would work out. Do you want me to get her Saturday morning before you leave?”

  “If it’s okay, she can come with us that morning. Zoe likes Currie to be there.”

  “No problem.” Currie will want to be at the hospital with Zoe, so I’ll cancel the babysitter. I hate Currie going along, even though it helps Zoe. The treatments are rough on both of them.

  Clive tugs on my jacket sleeve. “Let’s go to Sammy’s after the show tonight.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Susan says, curling into Danny’s arm. He grins dopey-eyed at her. Sucker.

  “We don’t have class tomorrow morning,” Danny adds.

  “I can’t.” And they know why. I have Currie to take care of.

  “It’s okay,” Mrs. Nowak says. “We’ll take Currie tonight. It’ll be good for Zoe.”

  “I don’t want to—”

  Mrs. Nowak pats my hand. “Please. You won’t be imposing. Go have fun.”

  “You hardly ever go with us,” Clive says. “Come on.”

  The lights dim letting us know the show is about to start. I think of Currie becoming sick and the thought tears me up inside. I don’t know how the Nowaks deal with Zoe’s illness, wondering whether she’ll live or die or how long the treatment will last.

  When the curtain opens, Currie and Zoe pose on each side of Bailey. They perform to Ravel. It’s beautiful. Zoe and Currie take advanced classes, and this piece showcases their talents.

  Bailey dances really well for a girl that’s top-heavy. She always looks like she’s about to tip over. I prefer jazz and hip-hop, but I don’t mind taking the girls to the Chicago Ballet, even when the guys call me ACDC. I took dance until I was twelve and couldn’t take the guys harassing me about playing a real sport like football or hockey. Honestly, it gave me the opportunity to hold girls and talk to them instead of hanging out in sweaty locker rooms with a bunch of guys.

  Between the next performance, Clive whispers in a snarky tone, “Shouldn’t you let Jinx know you’re going to show her how to dress in the morn? I bet she doesn’t get out of bed until late afternoon.”

  Thanks to the kitten ordeal I almost forgot, so I text Jinx now. I don’t get a response, not that I’m expecting one.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JINX

  After my audition, I pick up a latte, head home, and shower. I scrub with a scouring brush until my skin is raw and in some places bleeding. Oh God, He touched me. I feel the panic pressing on my chest. If I have an attack in here, that will be far worse. I could pass out, hit my head on the tile, and kill myself, then Step-monster would have to rescue me. That sends spiky chills up my spine.

  Feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen, I sit down in the shower and hug my knees to my chest. If only I could take back the night I screwed up, I’d still be with Zach.

  The clown horn on my phone honks at me. It also buzzes until it slides off the counter and lands on the hard tile instead of the rug. Shit. I get out and wrap a towel around me. Its warmth and thickness feels good against my butchered skin.

  I pick up the phone. Several hairline cracks splinter across its face. Dammit. I can’t afford a new one.

  The cracks fragment the text from Lennon so that I can barely read it. He wants t
o take me shopping, so I can buy a dress for the Winthrop wedding. At what time? And I don’t have any money.

  Damn him. What’s wrong with using my clothes? And why did it have to be his band?

  I cinch my robe on tight, run to my bedroom where I close and lock the door, and immediately call Rena.

  “How dare he tell me how to dress,” I say after telling her about my audition and the job.

  She giggles. “The Winthrop daughter is getting married. The wedding has to be perfect for Daddy Winthrop, even if it won’t last.”

  “It’s not funny,” I say.

  Katie Winthrop has seen her share of backseats. She was a senior when we were sophomores. Every guy in school chased after her, except Zach and Lennon. “Why do you always take Lennon’s side?”

  “You joined his band. Put up or shut up.”

  I let out an exasperated breath. No sense talking to Rena about Lennon when all she sees are stars.

  “You can go back to your job at the mall,” Rena teases.

  “I so love folding women’s underwear.” Lounging on my bed, I scan my room. The dresser drawers are open, and the clothes normally piled at the bottom of my closet are scattered on the floor.

  “Dammit,” I say, getting up to check my stash. I pull out the Takamine and feel inside the sound hole. Phew. My weed is still taped inside. Getting stoned is sometimes the only way I can make it through the day.

  “What’s wrong?” Rena asks.

  “Step-monster went through my things again. I don’t need Mom ragging on me, too.”

  “He didn’t find anything, did he?”

  “No. I’m safe for the moment.”

  “Why is he out to get you?”

  “Probably because he goes out of town when Mom’s not here and he wants something to hold over my head.” Amongst other things.

  God, I need a distraction from Step-monster and Lennon’s fashion control freakishness. “Let’s go clubbing tonight.” Mom’s out of town and the less I see of Step-monster, the better. Two birds, one stone.

  “I don’t know. I have a ton of homework.”

  “Come on, Rena,” I say. “We don’t have school tomorrow. You have the whole weekend plus Thursday and Friday to do it. Iz and Gabby will want to go, too.”

  Rena hesitates. “Don’t you have a kajillion songs to learn before this weekend?”

  “I won’t have even a fraction of them memorized whether I take one night off or not.”

  “If you want to play with the big boys…”

  “Puh-leeze,” I beg. “We’ll have fun. We could take the train into Chicago, so we won’t have to drive. I have to get away from Step-monster.” That seals the deal every time.

  “Okay, but you can’t get as hammered as you did the last time. I can’t carry two people home.”

  Iz is normally the lush in our group. She drinks enough for two of us. I’ve only gotten really drunk once since the night I lost everything precious to me. “That’s because Zach was at the same party. You know I’m mush around him.”

  “You broke up two years ago.”

  I don’t mention it’s been about the same time since she last dated Byron, and she still hasn’t gotten over him. “I know. I can’t help that I still like him. I promise to keep walking-straight sober.”

  “I’ll hold you to that, so that you can help with Iz.”

  “I will. I’ll call her and Gabby.”

  “I’ll pick you up in a half hour.”

  I press End and listen by the door. Step-monster is still milling about the kitchen. He had better leave shortly, or I’ll be stuck here for the night.

  My closet and now my floor are stuffed with clothes I’ve already worn. After I make some mula, I’m going shopping. I dig through and find my royal blue suede skirt, matching tights, red stilettos, and a red shimmering top. It hides the fact my chest is almost a sinkhole. If I ever get rich, I am getting a boob job.

  While I’m pulling up my tights, I stare at the photo of Zach and me at Navy Pier. It sits on the nightstand by my bed. I miss him. We were sewn together at the hip after I moved here at the beginning of sixth grade. He had his own band, and he loved my dad’s weekend warrior band. Zach had noticed them on YouTube before we moved here from Kansas.

  I wanted to join Zach’s band. I still do. The other members don’t want a girl, so Zach jammed and wrote music with me whenever he was free. We should’ve been each other’s first on my sixteenth birthday, but he hooked up with Kelly shortly after our breakup.

  If I hadn’t gotten so drunk that night, a few weeks before my birthday, we’d still be together. It hurts every time I look at his photo, but I can’t seem to take it down.

  I peek out to search for Step-monster. He’s not in the hall, so I sneak back into the bathroom where I apply enough foundation to hide my freckles and the bruise yellowing my cheek. It still hurts. I combine shades of copper and pink to my eyes then ruby red to my lips and plenty of mascara to bring out my green eyes.

  After scrunching my now straight hair, I tiptoe back to my room, slink inside, and lock the door. I slip into my shoes. Lord, I hate being short.

  My phone honks again. It’s another text from Lennon, so I ignore this one. What else does he want?

  I can’t believe I walked into his warehouse today without a clue, but the band’s name wasn’t listed in the paper. I knew Lennon had a band. Everyone does. Even Zach thinks Lennon’s Indigo Blues Band is totally fly. For a while, I thought he had something for the big guy the way he gushed about him. Everyone else does.

  Lennon’s band is so incredible I’ll never fit in if I don’t learn to read music. Clive’s as big a ho as Lennon, and Danny mentioned a girl named Susan. I hope that’s his sister. He’s temptingly cute.

  I mess with my hair some more. It’s my best feature, and I’m getting used to it being straight.

  The clock next to Zach’s picture ticks away the time. Rena will be here in another twenty minutes, and Step-monster hasn’t left. I sit on my bed and chew my nails. Damn Him. He needs to leave now.

  A photo of my dad sits opposite of Zach’s. He’s holding me and his guitar in his arms. I was five or six at the time. It’s one of my favorite pictures of us together.

  When I was little, I’d crawl onto his lap while he played guitar. The hum of the mahogany body vibrated against my stomach, tickling and warming me inside. Dad gave me my love of music. It started on his lap, listening to him sing, feeling the music swirl inside me.

  “Why did you have to die?” I ask, picking up the photo.

  Under a mountain of medical bills, we moved here, closer to Mom’s family after Dad passed away. I know it was hard for Mom, but did she have to marry Step-monster?

  Searching for my suede jacket, I stand on the stool to tear through the shelf above the clothes rack. The coat is jammed between two boxes. As I tug it out, a box tumbles to the floor, flies opens, and dumps its contents.

  The porcelain dolls are strewn onto the carpet. I gasp at the sight of them and fall off the stool. As I lie on the floor, Pip, Lindsey, and the clown stare blankly at me. Their glassy eyes mock and judge me just like they did on that night. The knocked-over lamp had lighted up their painted faces as He rolled me over, so that I saw their disapproving glares. While He slammed inside me, the dolls watched. They freak me out even now. I can barely remember mumbling “no” to Him just before I passed out.

  I hurriedly stuff them back into the cardboard. This time I pull tape from my desk drawer and seal the box shut. I’d throw them away, but my dad gave them to me, which makes it all the worse. I’m sure he’s disappointed in me, his baby girl, the tease.

  After stowing the box on the top shelf, I jump onto my bed and squeeze the pillow to my chest, trying to block the scary images of the dolls out of my mind.

  More minutes click by on the clock. Rena will be here any second, then I’ll be stuck with the dolls and Step-monster.

  Footsteps travel down the hall. Step-monster knocks on my door and j
iggles the handle. He’s so rude.

  “Jinx, I’m heading out. Do you need anything?”

  “No.” My voice is a bit harsh. I hate Him. He’s a mooch among other things.

  “Are you sure?” His tone is way too sweet. It makes me nauseous every time I hear it.

  “Absolutely.” While I wait for Step-monster to leave, my foot taps the fandango because I’m so nervous.

  His construction boots clomp down the hall. The garage door opens then shuts. Good. He’s gone. I watch out my window. As the car backs out of the driveway, Rena drives down our street. She slows and waits for the car to turn the corner before pulling in.

  Phew. I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt. That was close.

  I skitter outside as best I can, trying to avoid landing on my ass on the icy sidewalk. At least Step-monster shoveled the fresh snow from last night, probably to impress Mom.

  “Whoa, you look smokin’, girlfriend,” Rena says as I open the door.

  “Thanks, so do you.”

  Rena wears the usual skintight jeans, black leather ankle boots, and a silky zebra top under her Bebe leather bomber.

  Rena’s mouth gapes open. “What did you do to your hands?”

  The ugly welts from my cleansing scrub glow a painful red. I hide my hands behind my back. “Nothing.”

  Rena screws up her lips. She hates it when I hold back. She’d kill me if she knew who had taken everything away from me.

  Iz and Gabby are tittering in the back. They’re both dressed to take the best advantage of their assets. Iz in a red and black checked skirt with knee high boots and Gabby in black leather pants and a hot pink halter top. None of us wears suitable coats for the weather. We’ll seriously freeze if we have to walk anywhere.

  “Your eye looks better,” Iz says to me, lighting up a joint.

  I don’t think so. “Thanks. The magic of makeup.”

  She passes the joint to Gabby then me. I inhale a bellyful of medicinal weed. “Want some?” I ask Rena, slightly choking.

  “Not tonight. You know that’s not good for your voice.”

  “You’re right.” I exhale acrid smoke. It instantly calms my jittery nerves from my close escape from Step-monster.