Indigo Blues

by Danielle Joseph

  "He looks like a jack-off," Zach says.

  "Yes, he's the jack-off that's graced over thirty romance novel covers." Gina pulls a paperback from her bag.

  "Eww, get that away from me," Zach says playfully. "I don't need to see him half naked."

  "Well done, guys," Gina says. "You're generating some good hype. When the album comes out everyone will be bubbling."

  I'm not really sure how hanging out with the likes of Marcel is good for my image, but Gina seems to be happy about the whole thing.

  "And I've got an announcement, too," I say.

  "It's a little early for marriage, don't you think?" Zach laughs.

  "I'll leave that up to you," I say. "No, I made a few calls and got Boston back on our tour schedule."

  Gina's face drops. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

  "I wanted to make this decision on my own. I know everyone wants a homecoming, including me."

  "You sure?" Tommy asks.

  "Yes. Brighton College said they'll still have us. If Indigo shows up, I'm fine with it, and if she doesn't, I'm fine with that, too. It's about us. The band. Boston is our home turf."

  The guys all look toward Gina.

  "You know you don't have to do this, Adam," she says.

  I don't move. "I know."

  She nods. "Okay. I'll give them a call later to tie up any loose ends."

  "Great," I answer.

  "Now it's studio time. Scott's got a full schedule of bands signed up for the space today." Gina claps her hands.

  "Yes, ma'am." Tommy salutes her and we all follow suit.

  "Get your asses in there." Gina scoots us inside.

  Zach, Tommy, and I set up our instruments while Jack tinkers with the drums. We resume our comfort levels and get back to business. This is our final rehearsal before we lay down the tracks.

  Indigo, eat your heart out. There's a new song in town! How do you like that, "Sugar Rush"?

  'm on my floor painting my toenails black and white, alternating toes, of course. Just trying to keep busy. The phone rings. It's Cat. I have three toes left to go.

  I pick up and say, "Nada."

  "You know guys. They're not phone people."

  "But you think Tripp could at least return my text. How hard is it to respond to hey?" I attempt to finish my nails with just one hand.

  "Maybe you should've written more."

  "That was the second text I sent. The first one said, How was your weekend?"

  "Okay, well, that's a question at least."

  "Thanks, Cat. What would I do without you?"

  "Listen, slut, the guy thinks you're hot, so he'll call."

  "Yeah, but we've only talked on the phone once since our disaster date. And I barely saw him in school this week. The police officer definitely killed the mood." Things did get pretty steamy, maybe a little too steamy. If we go out again, I'm going to have to tell him to slow down.

  "I still can't believe that happened to you. It's so movie script."

  I'm down to the last toe, but I smudge the black. "Lately my life is feeling more and more like a movie. I just want my boring life back."

  "Once Tripp calls, you'll be happy to step back into the love story."

  "Well, he said he'd call when he got back from his cousin's wedding in Orlando today but today's almost over." I look over at my clock: 10:30 p.m. "Maybe his flight was delayed or something."

  "You're hopeless."

  My other line beeps. "Oh, my God, it's him."

  "See, am I psychic or what?"

  "Hold up," I say, and click to the other line. "Hi."

  "Hey, Indigo. What's up?" Tripp's voice sounds thin and withdrawn.

  "Not much. Just chilling." I furiously scrub the black polish off my last toe.

  "Cool."

  "So how was Orlando?"

  "Listen, we have to talk."

  I stare at my empty pinkie toe. It'll have to wait. "Okay."

  "You're a nice girl and all, but I don't think this is working out."

  My heart sinks like a wrecked ocean liner. I know he was kind of distant after the whole police incident, but I thought he would get over it. Or at least his dick would. Is it because I didn't put out fast enough? That's ridiculous. "We got off to a rocky start. Get it? Rocky Ledge, and..." He's not laughing. I let the joke die out.

  "Being with you is too much trouble," he says. "I have a football scholarship to worry about, and my mom, well, she's not too happy about all this drama either."

  "Your mom?" Did he tell her why we were at Rocky Ledge? How he would've had sex with me right then and there? How his boner was harder than a stale breadstick? "And, how am I trouble? You're the one that was dying to get in my pants."

  "I've got to think about myself." I hear noise in the background. Did he just turn on the TV?

  "I don't think that will be much of a stretch for you. You're so full of yourself"

  "You're not going to write a song about me, are you?" He laughs.

  Has he heard anything I said?

  "You wish." I hang up the phone.

  It rings right back. "Hello?"

  "So what did he say?"

  "Oh, my God, Cat. You hung on that whole time? I'm sorry. Tripp sucks."

  "That bad?" She sighs.

  My toe is still bare. I triple-coat it in black polish. "The bastard's worried about me ruining his chances for a football scholarship."

  "Get real."

  "And his mommy doesn't think I'm good enough for her little pervert."

  "Screw him and his slut mother."

  When we hang up, I pull out a sheet of paper and write Tripp, I Hate You. This song's for you.

  Oddly enough, I actually feel slightly better. Maybe that's why Adam wrote "Indigo Blues" about me. It was all therapeutic. Although it would've been much easier if he had just shoved the tune in a drawer instead of making his woes public.

  The last thing I need is for my song to turn up on my website, which would be enough fuel to ignite my angstgirl campaign and my utter hatred for the male species. Not to mention that I'm the worst poet ever. So I shred the paper and shove it into my wastebasket inside an empty box of tampons, about the only place Eli won't dare search for evidence.

  I hardly have time to feel sorry for myself when I remember my interview with Krista on Monday. Oh, crappity crap. She's the last person I need to see after being dumped by Tripp. I can just picture the way she'll start off the interview: "So I heard you got dumped last night. Seems like you're a loser in the relationship department."

  My toes are barely dry when there's a knock on my door. I waddle over to open it, careful not to get any polish on the carpet. "Eli, what do you want?"

  "Nice to see you too, sis."

  I plop down on my bed. "Listen, I had the worst day ever so I'm not in the mood for any more surprises."

  He sits down next to me. "What happened?"

  I stare at his yellow tee. It's a frowny face. "I feel like I'm staring into a mirror, looking at your shirt."

  He looks down. "No, your skin isn't so yellow, and you have more hair."

  "Ha." I punch him. "Tripp says I'm trouble. Doesn't want to see me anymore.

  "Screw him."

  "Funny, that's all he wanted."

  "Whoa." Eli covers his face. "But that guy's bad news any way. Seems full of himself."

  "You could say that."

  Eli leans his head on my shoulder. "Well, I've got something to tell you."

  "Just pile it on, Eli. Whatever you have, I can take."

  He lifts his head. "Maybe I should tell you later."

  "What?" I see he has something behind his back, so I stick out my hand. "Hand over my death certificate."

  It's a printout of Blank Stare's winter tour dates.

  "They'll be at Brighton College over Thanksgiving weekend."

  "God, do they have to invade Boston, of all the cities to go to?"

  "Well, it's only one night, and it's not like you go to Brighton anyway."


  I put my hands over my eyes and take a deep breath.

  "You could stay at Grandma and Grandpa's that night," Eli offers.

  Why didn't I think of that before? I can go live with Grandma and Grandpa out in farmland where I'm sure nobody cares who I am. Where I would probably go crazy talking to the birds all day.

  I had a dream last night that due to budget cuts, the school was forced to shut down the TV studio. That was right after my dream about Krista being the unfortunate recipient of a highly infectious disease and being trapped in one of those clear bubbles. I don't know how I let Cat talk me into this interview. I'm such a sucker for punishment. Still, I should feel lucky. Krista has managed to pretty much lay off me all week, with only a few mindless taunts here and there and her dry cleaning bill that I refuse to pay.

  Thankfully, Cat and I spent hours at the mall on Sat urday picking out my "perfect" interview outfit. I wanted it to seem completely unplanned, if that makes any sense. So we finally settled on a pair of Gap jeans and red scoopneck shirt plucked from the Bebe sales rack. I can't believe I spent my hard-earned money on an outfit just to talk to Krista, but at least I'll look good no matter what.

  For once I'm at school early. I walk down the empty hall toward the TV studio. As I approach the room, goose bumps pop up all over my arms. I keep on repeating to myself, I have nothing to be scared of. Nothing to hide. Cat offered to come with me, but I need to do this myself. Show Krista I don't need any backup to face her head-on.

  The studio is locked, but I can hear voices inside, so I knock.

  Alan Porter, the freckled techie guy, opens the door. "Didn't know if you would show." He laughs, exposing a mouth full of braces.

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence." I follow him inside.

  "Krista's in the makeup room, so just have a seat." How fitting-she gets a makeup room and I'll show up on the screen white as a ghost.

  I sit down on the "hot seat," which is really just a wooden bar stool in front of a white backdrop. I look over toward the control room and see Mr. Edmonds fiddling with some equipment. Surely he'd stop Krista if she started to choke me.

  Jenna Hausman, the weather girl, and Key Pandra, school announcements, enter the studio. I already know the drill. First Key, then Jenna, and after that the special feature. Lucky me-I fall into that category.

  "Good luck!" Key winks at me. Her bright yellow shirt is blinding enough that I'm tempted to slide on a pair of sunglasses.

  I part my parched lips. "Thanks." I reach down and take a swig from my water bottle. If Krista doesn't hurry up I might totally dry out.

  I watch as everyone else takes their places. Krista finally saunters out of the makeup room and over to me. Of course, she's wearing a super cute black skirt and pink top. I saw it on the mannequin at Bebe, but it was a new arrival, nowhere near ready to be placed on the sales rack.

  "Good, you're here," she says.

  No hello, thanks for coming. Figures. "Yup."

  "Okay, you know how it works. I ask the questions, you answer.

  Yes, master. "I'll try my best."

  "Humff." She glances at her note cards. "I expect this interview to run seamlessly. It's in the best interest of both of us."

  I agree but don't answer, because I don't need her head to get anymore swollen than it already is.

  Mr. Edmonds emerges from the control room. "Everyone ready? We're live in four minutes."

  Alan gives him the thumbs-up.

  Mr. Edmonds walks over to me. "Thanks for coming, Indigo. Any questions?"

  Yeah, can I back out now without penalty? "No thanks. I'm cool."

  "Great." He pats me on the shoulder. "I'm sure Krista will take good care of you."

  Is that some kind of sick joke, or is this man really that delusional?

  "Of course I will." She sugars up her voice and flashes him a huge, freshly lip-glossed smile.

  Mr. Edmonds heads back to the controls and everyone else assumes their assigned spots. I look at the clock on the wall and realize that the entire student body is seated in homeroom now, waiting for my TV debut. I wonder what Tripp will say? Will he whisper to his football buddies and talk smack about me? Or will he pretend that we never crossed paths?

  It's the thirty-second countdown, and Alan points to Key. She's holding a piece of paper with the school news. "Good morning, fellow Raiders, and welcome to Raiders' Pride. We have tons of stuff going on this week..."

  Usually I zone in and out of the announcements, but today my eyes don't move from Key. I stare at her big beaded necklace and the hair on her arms. I can tell she takes her job very seriously. I know that she actually wants to work at a real TV studio when she graduates from this mock one. "And coming up after the weather with Jenna, we have Krista's exclusive interview with Indigo Jackson!" She says my name extra loud, making sure to wake up anyone that might be using the morning announcements to catch up on some ZZZs.

  It's a beautiful day outside, so Jenna is done with the weather in less than thirty seconds. Not even enough time for me to take another sip of water, but enough time for Krista to hiss, "Remember, you owe me!"

  In my eyes, I've already won, so this interview is just to keep the peace and get everyone off my back.

  "Hello, fellow Raiders." Krista gives the camera a small wave. "I know you all know me, so I'm just going to jump right into the interview that the whole school has been bubbling about. I have Indigo Jackson here on the hot seat." She stares at me.

  Bubble, bubble, bubble. "Good morning." I smile.

  "Indigo, so glad you could join us."

  "You're welcome," I say through clenched teeth.

  "How long did you know Adam Spade before he wrote `Indigo Blues' about you?"

  "About a year."

  "And at what point did you break his heart?" For added drama, she holds her hand over her chest.

  "That never really happened."

  "Really? Let me quote directly from the song: You drew me in like a figure in a coloring book. Colored me blue, then ripped out the paper and tossed it away." Then, for more special effects, she pulls a piece of paper from the desk next to her and rips it in half.

  Luckily Cat and I rehearsed endless scenarios of how Krista could try to make me look bad, and I have an answer for anything that she might pull out of her bag of tricks. "A lot of it's to hype up the situation. In order for a song to sell, you need to really heighten the emotion."

  She raises her eyebrows. For someone so groomed, she has some fuzzy caterpillars. "Are you accusing Adam of being a liar?"

  "Absolutely not. All I'm saying is that you ripped that piece of paper for effect. Everyone does it." I feel like I've been accused of some petty crime and I'm sweating it out in the principal's office. Is this how Adam felt when he was interviewed on Wake Up, America?

  "Let's move on." Krista shuffles her note cards. "Have you apologized to Adam for the heartless way you treated him?"

  Okay, so she wants to play dirty. I've got an answer for that, too. I roll up my sleeves. "What about you? Do you ever apologize for the heartless way that you treat half the student body?"

  Alan laughs from behind the camera. Krista snorts. "By avoiding my questions, you only appear guiltier."

  I could say the same thing to her, but I can see that Mr. Edmonds is growing impatient and I don't want to be the joke of the school, either. Plus, I look over at the clock and we have one minute left until we're off the air. How much damage can be done in sixty seconds?

  "Listen, Krista, we all make mistakes. It's how we grow from those mistakes that really matter." I secretly thank Cat. That line was all hers. I know she's smiling from the potter's wheel in ceramics class.

  "Well, what do you make of this?" Krista has a ginormous grin spread across her face. She holds up a page from the New York Post. It's a picture of Adam and some girl. Puke alert! Alan zooms in with the camera for the whole school to see.

  I have now entered operation do-or-die mode. Nothing fazes me. There will be no stop
s, no hiding behind road blocks. This is me, Indigo Jackson, you get what you see. Kristalight, I've got enough steam to barrel right over you.

  I take a deep breath, stare at the photo, and force myself to smile. Adam with some model named Hannah-with breasts the size of Texas! No wonder he never called me back, just sent me that lame blow-off text. I've been replaced by Happy Hannah.

  Happy Hannah, Adam's all yours, and if you act now, I can throw in Tripp Warner free of charge!

  "Well?" Krista asks again.

  Curve ball, but I can handle it. "When life dumps a frappuccino on your head, you just have to deal." I grin. That one I thought of myself.

  Alan points at Krista and holds his hand up to signal five seconds left on the clock. Krista squirms in her seat. "Indigo Blues, a name that you will carry with you forever." She fake smiles and waves good-bye to the camera.

  She's right about one thing. That name has become a part of me. Now I just need to get used to it.

  I sit there frozen until I know for sure that the camera is no longer rolling. Then I quickly get up from my stool. "Well, thanks for having me," I say to the group. Alan's putting away equipment with Mr. Edmonds and Key and Jenna are cleaning up the desktop. Funny that Krista is doing nothing.

  Krista clicks her tongue. "Don't think you got away with anything." She's still clutching the photo of Adam in her hand.

  "As far as I'm concerned, we're even." I sling my backpack over my shoulder. It misses Krista's head by a fraction.

  "You still owe me thirty dollars," she says.

  "Of course." I head toward the door. "I'll get right on that." Right after I call Candi Campbell and let her know that she can set up a webcam in my bedroom, no holds barred.

  is do or die today! Ready or not, we're laying down the tracks to "Sugar Rush." Then after that we have to get moving on the rest of the songs for our new album. It seems like Gina's master plan is working, because we've been getting some good buzz lately.