by Meg Haston
“Ambitious,” Stevie agreed. I hated the way she said—well, pretty much everything. She always had that tiny smirk like life was a hilarious joke she and Zander shared over fancy coffee.
The Beat backed me up. “We should at least give it a shot. What about some of those Death Cab covers we always talked about doing?”
“I’ve got sheet music in my bag.” Nelson played a doomed-sounding chord on his keyboard.
“Hold up. Depends on whether our lead wants to sing Death Cab.” Zander looked to me. “They sing in a pretty high key most of the time.”
Stevie sucked in a breath. “Yeah, that could be a problem for Kacey.”
“That’s not what I was saying.” Zander shot her a dirty look.
My throat constricted, and my eyes started to burn. How had this gone so wrong so fast?
“Death Cab’s fine.” I stared at the tiny holes in the head of my mic.
“Y’know…” Stevie’s head listed to one side thoughtfully. “There is another way around this. Zander and I could play some of Hard Rock Life’s old stuff.”
Instead of dignifying her offer with a response, I indulged a brief fantasy in which I rushed her with my mic stand as a weapon, gladiator-style. The look of visceral horror on Dream Stevie’s face was enough to keep me sane for the next six seconds or so. Until Zander said…
“That’s actually not a bad idea. We could use the time we have to polish, instead of all of us learning all new stuff. Whadda you guys think?”
“Awesome,” Nelson said.
“Good call.” Kevin nodded.
The Beat rapped his agreement on the drums.
That left me. And as much as I wanted to scream and yell and personally drag Stevie back to Seattle, I had no choice. If I pushed back, I’d look petty, like I cared more about keeping Stevie out of the spotlight than I cared about the band.
“Yeah. Sure,” I managed. “Whatever you want.”
“Cool.” Stevie jumped up and slithered past me to The Beat. “One has a rockin’ drum solo. It’s pretty easy. I could teach it to you, if you want.” She sat on the edge of The Beat’s stool. His face turned bloodred as she snagged his drumsticks and rapped out a beat, bobbing her head to the music. “It’s got killer vocals, too. Wanna hear?”
“Yeahhh!” the guys cheered.
“You mind?” Stevie jumped up and nudged me out of the way, leaving me off to the side and without a mic of my own. I was too shocked to even breathe.
“Can I get a high C?” she purred into the mic.
My. Mic.
I watched helplessly as she turned toward Zander. They gazed at each other as she sang. I didn’t even need my contacts—or my coke-bottle glasses, which were at home, tucked in my desk drawer—to see the connection between them, tight and unbreakable. With no room at all for me.
AND FOR DESSERT, AN AWKWARD
HEART-TO-HEART WITH THE PARENTAL UNIT
Friday, 8:27 P.M.
After treating Ella and me to antipasto and house-made gnocchi at a new Italian restaurant in Lakeview, Mom suggested we take our hot chocolates to go. We strolled side by side along the west edge of Lincoln Park, walking south toward our townhouse.
“Everything okay?” Mom asked. “You seem a little distant tonight.”
“I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind, with the band and school and stuff.” Steam rose from the tiny slit in my to-go lid, mingling with the bite of early spring.
Mom draped her arm around my shoulders and pulled me in close. The rich scent of her olive leather gloves reminded me of Zander. “If it all feels like too much, you can always—”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry, school is my first priority. It’s fine. I can handle them both.”
“Want to race?” Ella huffed, poking at the condensation cloud her hot breath made in the biting, early-spring air.
“Too full.” I groaned, painfully aware of the way the metal button on my jeans dug into my stomach. “But you go.”
“Okay! Readddddyy…!” Ella skipped ahead at breakneck speed, almost knocking down an elderly couple hobbling in the opposite direction.
“Carefully, my love!” Mom winced. She gave the old couple an apologetic nod when they passed. “I had fun with you girls tonight. It’s been a while since the three of us had a girls’ night.”
“Yeah.”
Mom sighed. “It’s my fault. I’ve been spending too much time at the studio and not enough time at home with you girls.”
“Mom. It’s okay,” I protested, slipping my arm around her waist. “It’s your job. We get it.”
“It’s not okay,” she said quietly. “I mean, yes. It is my job, and I love it because I’m good at it and because it provides for our family. But if I keep this pace up much longer, I’m going to burn out. And then I won’t be any good to anybody.”
We fell silent, listening to the rhythmic scrape of our boots against the sidewalk. I hated when her voice sounded thin and brittle, like it was about to crack.
“Ella and I are fine, Mom,” I insisted. “Really. We’re just worried about you. You should do something relaxing every now and then. Take a day off.”
“News doesn’t take time off, sweet girl. You know that.” Mom stopped and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Stop at the corner, missy!” she called to Ella, who was barreling toward Belden Avenue. “Don’t make me count to five!”
Dutifully, Ella froze on the corner.
“Actually,” Mom started, “I did take a little break last night after the broadcast.”
“Uh-huh?” I said, tilting my steaming cup to my lips.
“Well… I…” She stuffed her hands in her coat pocket. “I… took a little coffee break. With a new… friend.”
I inhaled and regretted it immediately. Scalding hot liquid burned my tongue and the roof of my mouth. “You what?” I sputtered, sucking hot chocolate down the wrong pipe. I doubled over in a coughing fit, my eyes filling with tears.
“Kacey!” Mom rubbed my back in circles. “One sip at a time.”
I straightened up. “Was it a date?” I hissed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your phone was off,” Mom protested with a nervous laugh. “And you were asleep by the time I got home. Besides, it wasn’t a real date. Just coffee, with the source I had the interview with on Tuesday night.”
“Mooom! Kaaaacey! Hurry up!” Ella yelled from the corner.
“Are you gonna tell her?” I asked quietly.
“If it turns into something, then I will. I promise.” Mom stopped and grasped me by the shoulders. “Are you okay with this?” she asked. Her eyes widened in earnest. They were green with flecks of gold. “I know I haven’t done much dating since your dad left.”
“Yeah, no, it’s fine. It’s just… I’m just surprised, that’s all.” My singed tongue tingled at the words.
“I know. I sort of sprang this on you.” She ran her hand through her shoulder-length auburn hair. “But I didn’t want to keep secrets.”
“Are you going out with him again?”
“I think so. He asked if I was free tomorrow night.”
“Where are you going to go?”
“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “We might do one of those horse-and-carriage rides. He’s new in town, so—”
“Okay, okay.” I waved her away. “I don’t need all the sordid details.” The thought of Mom snuggled up with some dude underneath a blanket that smelled like horse pee made my stomach churn. I chucked my hot chocolate into a trash can at the curb.
“Sorry. No more date talk.” We reached the corner, and she bent down to squeeze Ella. “Excellent listening, lovebug,” she said. “Remember, we never cross the street alone.” The three of us linked hands, Ella in the middle, and hurried toward our block as the wind started to pick up. Mom glanced over Ella’s head. “It’s been four years, Kacey. That’s a long time, you know.”
“I know.” I smiled back, for Mom.
When we got home, we found Pa
ige on the front stoop, shivering in her oversized coat.
“What’re you doing here?” I released Ella’s hand and hurried up the steps.
“I’m spending the night, remember? I mean, if that’s okay with you, Sterling.” She lifted a yellow nylon duffel bag from behind one of Mom’s empty stone flowerpots.
“Of course, sweetie.” Mom fiddled with the key in the lock. “Next time just let yourself in with the key under that pot. It’s freezing out here.” She bumped the door open with her hip and we followed.
“Can I play with Kacey and Paige, Mom?” Ella did a running leap over a pile of dress-up clothes in the foyer. “Since I was such a good listener?”
Mom wriggled out of her winter coat and hung it on the rack by the door. “It’s bath time for you, little one.” She shot me a meaningful glance. After twelve years of those looks, I’d gotten decent at reading them. This one was the oft-used Get upstairs before your sister throws a fit.
“ ’Night, girly.” I planted a quick kiss on the top of Ella’s head and another on Mom’s cheek. “Love you.”
“ ’Night, Sterling!” Paige yelled over her shoulder as we sprinted up the stairs.
When we got to my room, Paige slammed the door and deflated against it.
“You totally forgot I was spending the night,” she huffed, whipping a black infinity scarf over her head and flinging it Frisbee-style onto my unmade bed. “Don’t… even… deny it.”
“In my defense, Paige, I was kind of busy listening to my mother tell me about her date last night.” I stretched my arms out and trust-fell onto the bed.
“Wait. A date?” Paige took a running leap and flopped next to me. “STERLING SIMON WENT ON A DATE?”
“Yep.”
“Intense.”
We stared at the ceiling for a while. I wished there was a tiny switch I could flip in my brain, like the one on Ella’s sound machine, to fill my head with white noise and squeeze everything else out. I was glad Paige was the one spending the night. Molly would have fired questions at me all night, forcing me to think about things I wanted to ignore.
“Okay.” Paige sat up and presented me with two closed fists, like she was about to do a magic trick. She lifted the left fist. “In this hand, I’ve got: ‘How COULD she? She’s the WORST. MOTHER. EVER.’ ” Then she raised the right fist. “And in this hand, we’ve got: ‘It’s about time! Your mom’s a total fox. How’d she meet him? What’s his name? I’M. SO. PUMPED.’ ” With a tiny smile, she scooted closer to me on the bed. “Pick one. Whichever one you want.”
“Ugh. Maybe a little of both.” I knocked her fists with mine and tried to smile. “Also, don’t ever call my mom a fox again. That’s creepy.”
“She totally is, though.” Paige giggled, shoving her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I bet old guys check her out all the time, right?”
“Get out.”
“I can’t. We have campaign stuff to work on,” she said lightly. She slid off the bed and sat at my computer desk, jiggling the pink wireless mouse until the flatscreen monitor came to life.
Paige typed GoGreene.com into the web browser. “We should check the results of my new PrezPoll. You’ve taken it, right?”
“Uhhhh—” PrezPoll?
“KACEY!”
“Sorry! I’ll take it now!” I straightened up on the bed.
“If your mother hadn’t just gone on a date…” Paige huffed. “Question one. My life as a student at Marquette has improved drastically during Prez Paige’s tenure. Strongly Agree, Agree, Neutral, Disag—”
“Strongly agree,” I said generously.
“Stronglyyyy agreeee.” She clicked the mouse. “Oooh! It says one hundred percent of respondents answered ‘Strongly Agree’!” She whirled around in my desk chair, the frayed ends of her bob bouncing with excitement.
“How many people took the poll?”
She turned around again. “Oh. Including you? Two.” Her shoulders slumped.
“Okay,” I said brusquely. “Enough. We both need some serious stress relief.” Stashed under my bed was a turquoise shoebox Ella had bedazzled with giant plastic jewels for my eleventh birthday.
“Whatcha got there?” Paige peered over my shoulder as I opened the lid.
“Take your pick.” I’d stocked the box with everything from the vials of tea tree oil Liv gave as stocking stuffers last Christmas to the cooling gel eye mask I’d nabbed from Nessa’s finals-week study kit.
“Ooh.” Paige palmed a slim white tube containing a clarifying seaweed mask. Mom had gotten it at some fancy hotel she’d stayed in while on assignment in New York City. “I could use some clarifying.”
“Same. Maybe it’ll scrub that whole dating conversation from my memory.”
After lighting a few fresh cotton–scented pillar candles, I clicked on the Mellow Mix on my iPod. A slow Levi Stone track filled the room. I kicked off my boots and changed into a fluffy white robe. Paige took her glasses off and slipped on a worn navy-blue sweatshirt that was about seven sizes too big. Probably her dad’s.
“Did you hear Levi’s coming to Chicago soon?” Paige asked. “Next week, I think.”
“Yeah. But my mom would never let me go to a concert on a school night.” I tucked Paige’s hair behind her ears and smoothed the thick army-green mask over her skin, patting it all the way to her lashes and over the dark spots beneath her eyes. Then I did her neck. There wasn’t a patch of pale skin in sight. When I finished with Paige, I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and did my own mask.
“Lemme see,” Paige said. We hurried to the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door. “Ew! We look like aliens or something!” she squeaked.
“That’s the price of beauty.” I consulted the back of the tube. “We’re supposed to leave it on for twenty minutes. Wanna do manicures?”
But Paige couldn’t take her eyes off her reflection. She leaned into the mirror, inspecting her face from every angle. “I should go out and get myself a date for the dance right now.”
I chomped down on the inside of my cheek. I hadn’t thought about the date thing in days. Did playing the dance mean I’d have an excuse not to bring one? Did it mean that Zander wouldn’t be able to ask Stevie? I didn’t think I could handle watching them slow-dance during one of our breaks.
I smoothed a clump of mask paste beneath my eye so there were no cracks or bubbles. “Do you have a date yet?”
“No.” Paige looked away from the mirror. “Guys are intimidated by a woman in power. And it’s like, all eyes are on me leading up to the election, and not all guys are cut out for the spotlight.”
“For sure,” I said quickly. “But still, you should think about going with somebody. If you want.” I gave her bob a playful yank. “ ’Cause you do look hot. In fact…” In one swift move, I steamrolled her into the photo booth and yanked the velvet curtain closed. “We should document this momentous occasion!”
“Kacey! I’ll kill you!” she screamed, her skinny legs thrashing behind the curtain. “I’m seriously gonna strangle you with your bathrobe belt. Lemme out!”
“Say cheeeeeese.” I giggled, keeping her inside the booth with one hand and punching the green button on the inside wall with the other. The flashbulb popped four times. “You’re on Candid Camera!”
COFFEE AND CONSPIRACY
Saturday, 11:35 A.M.
By the time Paige left to meet her parents for brunch the next morning, my pores were completely clear, but my mind was more clogged than Mom’s top secret junk closet. I was at a total loss for how to take Stevie down without making Zander mad at me forever. So I called in the troops for an emergency brunch meeting.
“Now this is brain food,” Nessa said as the girls and I settled into a circle on my bedroom floor, divvying up scrambled eggs, maple-glazed sausages, and fresh fruit. “Give me five minutes and I’ll give you a foolproof plan.”
“Sayonara, Stevie.” Molly yawned into her breakfast burrito.
“I just want to say tha
t I can think just as clearly without stuffing my body with animal products.” Liv dug into her vegan tofu scramble and stabbed a wad of egg substitute with her fork.
“Mmmmm,” Nessa teased, waving a hunk of sausage under Liv’s nose. “Wilbur, maybe? Or Babe?” She scrunched up her nose and oinked.
“Ewwww! Get that poor thing away from me!” Liv shrieked, kicking at Nessa with her bare feet.
“Girls! Focus,” I ordered. “Stevie’s getting worse, and I refuse to take it anymore.” I gave them a quick rundown of rehearsal the day before. “How could Zander let her take over the gig I got without even noticing what she was doing? It’s like whenever he’s around her, he goes blind. She has this weird power over him.”
“I knew a girl like her once, back in elementary school,” Liv said. “She did all this mean stuff to m—to, um, the girls in the class. And the guys didn’t even notice. They were too busy checking her out to care.”
“Guys check me out all the time.” Molly’s eyes cut anxiously to me.
“This is so not the same thing.” I patted the leather knee patch on her black skinnies. “Stevie’s, like, evil. You’re just hot.”
Relieved, Mols went back to her burrito.
“We have to teach her a lesson. Show her she can’t get away with this. This is my band and our school.” I hadn’t touched my bagel, but I still felt nauseated. “We have to come up with something so good, she’ll be dying to hop the next flight to Seattle.”
“Breathe, Kace. Let’s review what we know,” Nessa said soothingly. “So like Mols said, she obviously doesn’t have any girlfriends.”
“And I don’t think she cares.” I sighed as Liv started to braid my bedhead tangles.
“So what does she care about?” Nessa rolled her eyes, like the very thought was ludicrous.
“Zander. Music. Completely upstaging me. Laughing about these stupid pranks she’s supposedly famous for.” I couldn’t sit still any longer. I jumped up and started pacing. “I swear, if I have to listen to one more prank story, I’m gonna wig out.”
“And remember that time she called me ‘B-list Barbie’?” Molly’s shrill voice drilled into my eardrums. “Raise your hand if you think there’s anything B-list about me.” She glared at each of us.