Okay, a question I can handle. Four minutes and twenty seconds left.
"Mercy High in Abel, Mass," Zach says.
And if we were there now, I'd only be fifteen minutes away from Forest Hill High, where Indigo goes to school.
"And how did you come up with the name Blank Stare?" Allie crosses her legs. Her gray skirt is short. Hey, she's wearing gray! Does that make her dismal and boring? I say not with a pair of legs like those.
We all start laughing. This one should take a good minute. Zach tries to speak through his laughter, but can't get anything audible out so Tommy, the most composed, takes over. I catch a glimpse of Gina in the corner. I know she's dying inside.
"Let's just say it's the look you get from a girl when ... um ... she sees your di ..."
"Member," Zach pipes in.
"Yeah." Tommy nods. "Kind of like a deer in the headlights."
Allie raises her eyebrows and blushes. "I think this is what we refer to as guy speak."
"Right," Conjunction assures her.
Gina shakes her head. Even though the meaning of Blank Stare comes up all the time, I still don't think she's gotten used to it.
"Moving right along," Allie says. "How long have you all been performing?"
All of us had been playing at least four years when we met as freshmen in high school, with me having played the longest. I'd begged my parents to let me take guitar lessons since the first grade. It took until third grade for them to realize that I was serious. I loved the guitar so much that I used to sleep with it. That, I don't share with Allie.
We run through a few more get-to-know-the-band type questions. Zach makes sure to tell her that we're scheduled to go on tour in November after we finish our new album, and to check our website for the deets. First stop, Boston, of course. I look over at Gina. She has a big smile. I know she's proud of Zach for getting a concert plug in.
Fifty seconds before we go to commercial. I think I'm safe until Harry says, "And now for the big question."
My hearts drops.
"Everyone is dying to know, which one of you was scorned by Indigo?" He leans in even further, like he's luring in the biggest fish of all. His purple tie with tiny blue stars wags back and forth.
No one answers. Instead they just turn to me, waiting for me to speak. My ears feel like flaming-hot salsa. Allie and Harry have big smiles on their faces, but their eyes are telling me to speak. Twenty-five seconds left on the clock.
I raise my hand slightly. "Guilty."
"Well, you're not doing too shabby now," Harry says.
"That's right." Zach points to me. "Females are waiting in line to meet Adam. And when he's with a girl, he treats her like royalty."
Okay, let's not go overboard here. I shuffle my foot back and forth. Twelve seconds left.
"So the real question now is ... do you still love Indigo?"
God, what do I say? That I think about her 24/7? That I'm a freak? That I can't think about anything else? "Let's just say, I still have a place for her in my heart."
"Ahh," Allie says. "That's so sweet."
I'm sure Indigo doesn't feel the same way. But how can she ignore what we had? We may have only been an official couple for a few months, but we were in a "relationship" for over a year.
Harry announces that it's time for a commercial break. Without a second to breathe, they rush us over to the mini stage.
Letting go of the Indigo question is not easy. Obviously this isn't the first time someone has asked me about her, but it's hard to get used to. I know that it totally makes sense for them to be curious about the origin of the song, but if I wrote about a girl that treated me well, people wouldn't be so interested.
Gina drags me by the hand and basically plops me onto the stage. "Doing great," she whispers in my ear.
I'm amazed at how organized everyone is. Between the bulleted clipboards, walkie-talkies, and color-coded whiteboards in every room, they could probably run a small country. My dad would be so impressed by their precision. He would probably enjoy watching the behind-the-scenes work more than hearing us play live.
Since this is my song, I'm the front man. When the band first got together, I was not lead vocals. It seemed natural that Zach, the most outgoing, would be our front man. We both play guitar and can sing, but he's like a magnet and people are naturally drawn to him. For the other guys it was obvious. Conjunction has played the drums since he was eleven, and Tommy switched over to bass in high school. It's only in the past year that I've stepped forward. With the success of "Indigo Blues," Toasted Almond Records is pushing me to take the lead on most of the tracks that we're recording for our album.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around-it's Zach. He just winks at me. I smile, then turn back to face the cameras. I wait for the count down: three ... two ... one, you're on. And then for Harry's cue: "Here they are, ladies and gentlemen, Blank Stare, with `Indigo Blues'..."
I close my eyes. I picture Indigo standing in front of me, all smiles, like when she used to watch us on stage. And then I think about how she said she needed space from me. I let loose on my guitar and sing my heart out. Every word bleeds from my body.
When I'm through, sweat is dripping from my forehead and the whole staff of Wake Up, America is clapping like crazy. Allie comes up on stage, wraps her thin arms around me and Zach, and takes us to another commercial.
We did it.
Without Indigo.
fter having Lindsay attack me at lunch on Friday and then hearing Tripp sing "Indigo Blues," I walk through school this morning with my iPod on and my eyes fixed in front of me. The trick is to look preoccupied so that no one dares to interrupt you. I make it through the hallways without saying hello to anyone. However, once I get to class and pull out my earbuds, apparently I'm fair game! Mandi Pringle, the girl with butt-length hair and a penchant for popping zits, slaps her shiny pink notebook down on my desk.
"Can I help you?"
"Your autograph please."
"Is this some kind of joke?" I sneer.
Her face drops. "No, I collect autographs and you're the most famous person I know."
How pathetic. But I feel bad for her, so I scrawl my name in nice bubbly print and, for added effect, I use a heart to dot the second "i" in my name.
Mandi thanks me and saunters to her seat, hugging her notebook. Poor girl needs to get out more.
Not even ten minutes into the lecture on arbitrary angles, my cell vibrates once in my pocket. Who the hell sends me a text during trig? If it's Adam, I'm going to scream. As Mr. Stone scrawls on the whiteboard in his stoneage handwriting, I take a peek at my phone.
Meet 2f1 b-room asap.
The last time I got one of these messages from Cat, she had gotten the corner of her shirt jammed in her fly. This could be a true emergency. I raise my hand and clear my throat. Mr. Stone nods okay. I tie my hoodie around my waist in case Cat needs something to cover up a fashion disaster and snatch the bathroom pass off Stone's desk before he changes his mind.
"Don't go, Indigo..." Ray Hernandez holds out his hand as I pass by his seat.
"Get over it!" I snarl. I know I shouldn't let these "Indigo Blues" jokes get to me, but I can't help it sometimes.
Cat and I reach the bathroom at the same time. She's out of breath. "I just got a text from Lindsay, who's in TV production. Adam is on Wake Up, America, like, right now."
"Okay." I lean against the sinks.
"The boy slut's in millions of homes as we speak."
"Okay," I say again. Until it dawns on me that my name has now reached millions of homes, too.
"I think I'm going to be sick." I crane my neck over the sink and pray that nobody opens the bathroom door.
"Breathe deep." Cat pulls my hair behind my neck.
I do as she says and wait for the bile to come, but it doesn't surface. Thank God.
"Do you want to know the details?" Cat asks after she lets go of my hair.
The sink is on full blast. I splash co
ld water on my face. "Shoot."
"She said he looked cute. Well, she really said Zach looked cute, but anyway, they were being interviewed by Allie and Harry. They talked about how they met and stuff."
"So that's all?" I let out a sigh of relief.
"No, they ... ah ... mentioned you."
I suck back in my sigh of relief and cover my eyes.
"They said they wanted to know if there was a real Indigo and who was in love with her."
"And?"
Cat shrugs her shoulders. "Lindsay didn't see the end. She had to rush back to class."
I must have a look of desperation on my face because Cat adds, "And then they were going to sing. And after that, some other segment."
"Right." Too much info to swallow at once. I have to get back to class. Mr. Stone has this thing about the bathroom pass and that it can only be used by one person in the class at a time. What if there is someone else that has to pee really bad?
Cat and I agree to meet at lunch and I head back to trig. I hope Lindsay and the rest of the TV crew keep their mouths shut long enough for me to make it to the end of the day.
I pass Rachel Fogg, one of the office aides, in the hallway. "Hey, Indigo. I just heard that your boyfriend was on Wake Up, America this morning."
My stomach clenches. I grit my teeth. "He's not my boyfriend."
"Sure." Rachel laughs.
Did she even listen to the lyrics of the song? What kind of boyfriend would say that his girlfriend's eyes are gonna glaze and she'll wish she had me then ... ?
I pull hard on the doorknob to room 221 and toss the bathroom pass onto Mr. Stone's desk. Everyone's scribbling in their notebooks, working on a problem set up on the board.
I slump down into my chair and pull out a pencil. For the next twenty minutes my eyes flit between the whiteboard and my notebook. My thinking-if I don't make eye contact with anyone then they'll forget about me. Well, it works. That and the fact that the last ten minutes of class is spent working on a three-question pop quiz, a Stone specialty.
I bust out of class and head for Marketing. I consider avoiding the masses in the hallway by hiding out in a bathroom stall, but Mrs. Tavers likes to single out late entries with questions that have no answers. She enjoys humiliation a little too much. So I take the main hallway to my locker to dump off my trig book.
"That's her," I hear a freshman girl whisper to her friend. I pretend they're pointing to someone else and slam my locker shut.
What could Adam have said to Allie and Harry about me? On national TV. Now probably the whole world thinks I'm a bitch. How could that stupid girl from Caulder, Mass break the heart of such a sweet guy? It's not like that, people! We went out for one season. We didn't even have sex. Adam was way too intense. He wouldn't back down. I broke it off. End of story. Or at least it should've been.
I see Tripp leaning over the water fountain. I'd notice that cute booty anywhere. I so want to go over and pinch it, but I don't need a rep as a butt grabber, either. I walk slow and wade through the other students until Tripp lifts his head.
"Hi." I smile.
He wipes his chin with the back of his hand. "Hey Indigo, what's up?"
"Not much. You?"
"Got a big scrimmage on Thursday. You should come."
"Yeah, that would be cool." As long as you don't think I'm a bitch once word gets out about my defaming on morning TV. The crowds are starting to thin out. "Okay, better run."
Tripp looks down at his blue shirt. "I'm left standing here all blue. Oh, yes, I've got the Indigo Blues..."
I pretend not to let it bother me and wave as I turn the corner. I know he's only trying to be funny, but it's not working. This whole thing is driving me nuts. Just when I thought I had something good ...
What a day! After weighing candy at Rock Candy for four hours and hearing about Adam's ego-damaging interview, all I want to do now is veg on the couch and watch mindless entertainment. I open the front door and toss my book bag into the hall closet.
I haven't even acknowledged his presence when Eli bounds toward me.
"Oh, my God, Indigo." He hops from one foot to the other. His now-spiked hair teeters back and forth. "You'll never guess who just called!"
This is not my idea of mindless entertainment. Although he does look a bit ridiculous. "Grandma again?"
"No." He shakes his head. "Take another guess."
"The president?" I push past him to grab a Diet Coke from the fridge.
"I wish."
I turn around and stare at him. "I've got an idea. Why don't you just tell me?"
"Candi Campbell from Blitz News Magazine. Can you believe it?"
My face feels flush and my eyes narrow to small slits. "Why?"
"She wants to interview you about the song!" Eli circles me in a happy dance.
I'm standing frozen in the kitchen. "I hope you told her I took a pledge of celibacy and became a nun. Convent unknown."
"She said she'd even get a clip of me."
"I'll get a clip out of you, too, if you talk." I grab one of his sticky gelled chunks and pretend to snip, snip, snip.
He shakes me off. "That's a threat."
"Please, this is my life we're talking about. Have you seen the way that lady can spin an interview around in seconds? Sure, she comes on all sugary sweet. Her name is Candi, but then vroom, she's in your face, digging up dirt faster than an armadillo."
"I think you mean `anteater.' They eat like thirty thousand ants a day."
"An overdose of the Discovery Channel can severely impact your mental capabilities." I pull hard on his hair. My fingers stick to the spikes. "You're missing the point here, detective. She's going to grind me into the ground until I break down. And there's no way you're going to see me cry on national TV. Remember what she did to that Betty Glad lady?"
"Who's she?" Eli rolls his eyes at me.
Betty's husband "accidentally" drowned in the bathtub. She was billed as the poor, distraught housewife until word surfaced about the million-dollar life insurance policy she had on him.
"Well?" Eli asks.
I look him straight in the eye. "Betty killed her annoying brother."
"Yeah, right." He cranes his neck and matches my stare.
"She started by plucking out his hair. One by one." I grab Eli again. My hands are so sticky and nasty-feeling. "What did you put in here?"
"Gelatin."
"Jell-O doesn't stick like this." I pull my hand free from his head and sniff. "Glue?"
"Yeah, and a couple other ingredients that I read about online."
My eyes widen. "Like?"
"Egg yolk and soap. Supposed to be easier on the scalp."
"Sounds delicious. Have fun getting it out." I walk past him back to the kitchen, and grab a bag of chips to go with my Diet Coke.
"What about Candi?" He follows behind me.
"You don't talk to her about me and I won't tell her about the glue."
"So how do I get this crap out?"
"A little late to be thinking about that now." I leave him at the bottom of the stairs and book it up to my room. Let Mom deal with him. I just want to watch TV and tune out.
Okay, life's so unfair. There's this pimped-out rapper's pad on MTV Cribs and his master bathroom is bigger than my bedroom, Eli's bedroom, and my parents' office put together. What's up with that?
There's a knock on my door.
I ignore it, hoping he'll go away.
Second knock.
"Okay, what do you want?" I shout, but I don't get up from my bed.
"Excuse me?" Mom opens my door. She's wearing the matching baby blue crystal earrings and necklace that I made for her last Christmas. At the time I thought blue was cool and calming, but now it screams DEATH TO INDIGO.
I sit up and mute the TV. "Oops, sorry. I thought you were Eli."
Mom sits on the edge on my bed. "Do you want to talk?"
"I had nothing to do with the glue."
"Glue? Did he break something?"
>
"No, just forget about it. I had a long day."
"Too many chocolate pretzels to make?" Mom smiles, and two little lines extend from each corner of her mouth. In an instant they fade.
"No, the shop was slow. It's all this other crap."
She nods her head as if she just made a fascinating discovery. "Don't worry about Candi. You don't have to speak to the media. I'll deal with her."
"Thanks, Mom."
She gets up to leave, but stops. "Did you see her interview with the mayor last week? I thought she did an excellent job."
"Mom." I eyeball her. "Not happening."
"I was just saying..." She laughs, trying to hold herself back. "Anyway, Dad's running late at the office but dinner should be in half an hour. Lasagna tonight."
"Cool." I nod and she leaves me to the TV.
Ugh, why doesn't my family see how humiliating this all is?
Indigo Blues, when she sees me up on the big stage, her eyes are gonna glaze and she'll wish she had me then ...
No, I won't. Never. And can't anyone see how pig-headed those words are?
Geez. I put my hands up to my ears and shake my head. Song, get out of my brain. Quick, I need to focus on something else. I pick up the remote and flip the channels. VH 1 is showing some old videos. I blast the song "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." You're right, they do, pink-haired '80s lady.
I call Cat. She'll understand.
She picks up right away. "Hey, girl. What's up?"
"Crap day, got crappier."
"Don't even worry about Tripp. I'm sure he'll be humming a new song in a few days."
"Actually, I wasn't even thinking about him until you brought it up." I run my finger over a poster on my wall of the movie Music and Lyrics. Why can't real life be cheesy and romantic like that?
"Oh, sorry."
"Candi Campbell called my house today and spoke to Eli."
"What did she want?"
I reach down next to my bed and pull my beadbox up onto the comforter. I need to do something with my hands before I go crazy. "To interview me about Adam."
Indigo Blues Page 4