by Meg Haston
“One last question, Marquette.” Quinn’s blindingly white smile gleamed in the spotlight. “Do you think seventh grade’s been cool, but want eighth to be WILDER?”
“WILD-ER! WILD-ER! WILD-ER!” The thundering chants and stomping sent vibrations buzzing through the seats. For a second, I flashed back to Molly’s birthday party last month. My classmates (the cool ones, anyway) had been chanting like this just before I wiped out in the middle of the skating rink. My back molars pinged at the memory.
“Then vote for me, and eighth grade will rock!” The Queen song swelled again, and Quinn ditched his mic and jogged down the steps to the audience, fist-bumping his way up the aisle.
“Can you believe him?” Molly gushed. “He’s gonna be, like, the most amazing prez ever.”
“The energy in here is kind of amazing,” Liv admitted.
“He can’t deliver on that stuff,” Nessa said skeptically.
At least one of my friends was impervious to Quinn’s empty promises.
I didn’t make eye contact as Quinn passed our row. Instead, I watched Paige sit alone on stage. She held her head high, but inside she was probably crumbling. If she hadn’t known it a few minutes ago, she knew it now: The election was over.
HARMONY
Friday, 3:25 P.M.
“Everything okay?” Zander asked as Stevie and I came through the loft door, dragging our heels. Between Paige’s bombed speech and Levi’s radio silence, this was turning into the worst day ever.
The guys were already in the breakfast nook, tuning their instruments. The Beat’s camcorder sat on a tripod in the kitchen, its red light flashing.
“Yup!” I said, forcing a cheery tone into my voice as I whipped off my jacket and flung it rodeo-style onto the pool table. “Annnnyway. Who’s up for a little rehearsal time?” I took my place next to Zander, and Stevie leaned against the island in the kitchen. The only way to salvage the afternoon was through a little music therapy. I wanted to lose myself in the notes like Wells had last night at the café.
Zander handed me a few pieces of sheet music. “We probably shouldn’t try new stuff before tonight, but I’ve been kicking around a new melody and I want to give it a shot. If it goes okay, maybe we can put the recording on the website. You in?”
“Do you even have to ask?” I cupped the mic in my right hand. It fit perfectly. I smiled directly into the camera lens. It might not have been a Channel M camera, but it felt good to be back in the limelight anyway. “Let’s do it.”
“I want to warm you up a little first, Kace. We’ll start here.” Without even looking at the keyboard, Nelson played a perfect chord progression. “Can I get a zing-ah?”
“Zing-ahhhhhhh.” My voice filled the loft, from the concrete floors to the high ceilings. It was powerful, strong. It was me. “Zing-AHHHHHHHHH.” Stevie looked away, pretending to be mesmerized by a photograph on the refrigerator.
“Whoa.” Zander bowed his head when I was finished. “You sound amazing.”
“Yeah, you do,” The Beat said.
I smiled. “Not that I’d mind you guys complimenting me all night, but can we get to the music?”
“Nice, Mainstream.” Kevin looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “So you’re really sticking around, huh?”
I lowered my mouth to the mic. “Try and stop me.”
“No way. You’re on a roll.” Zander’s tiny head-bob in my direction asked, You ready?
I head-bobbed back, Let’s go.
“And five, six, seven, eight!” The Beat rocked a slow rhythm, easing me into the song.
“Here you go,” Zander said. “This is you, riiiight—”
“Outside the world is gray and I listen.” My voice was soft and soulful, almost a raspy whisper. “As the minutes tick away, I’m just wishing. For the one who makes me feel like it’s all gonna be okay.”
Zander was watching me as he played. I closed my eyes. “I don’t know how she does it, it’s the way she says my name. The way she sees into my soul, and how she takes away my pain. And she tells me, sweet she whispers, that it’s all gonna be… okay.”
I felt a longing at my core as the final notes of the song evaporated, wishing I knew everything in my own life would be okay.
“Holy—” Kevin shook his head, breaking the silence in the loft. “That was—”
“I know. I know.” I tightened my grip on the mic. “Should we try it tonight?”
“For sure,” Zander said. The rest of the guys murmured their agreement.
“Aaaand…” I zeroed in on Stevie. She nibbled her thumbnail, her brow scrunched together like she was trying to drum up the best insult possible. But then her face relaxed, and she offered the slightest hint of a smile.
“It was good. But I think I know how to make it better.”
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and sighed directly into the mic. “Of course you do. Enlighten us.” I should have known better than to ask her opinion.
“Stevie. Come on.” Zander cracked his neck. “You have to admit, it was—”
“Just hear me out. I think it feels more like a duet.”
“And I’m sure you want to give it a shot?” I snapped.
She waltzed past my mic without acknowledging me. “Goose. You could do a pretty easy harmony, right? Just a few steps up, like this?” She hummed the first few bars. “Just keep it soft, so you don’t overpower her. She sounds good.” She signaled The Beat. “And five, six, seven, eight.”
Wait. What? Zander and I stared at each other in disbelief as Stevie sashayed back to the kitchen without commandeering my mic.
“You’re about to miss your cue,” she called over her shoulder.
“Yeah. Okay.” Zander abandoned his mic and joined me at mine. Our lips were millimeters apart. With every new measure, every note, we stayed in perfect harmony. Stevie was right—this song was a duet, and Zander and I were the perfect people to sing it. Together.
“I can feel it, dudes. Tonight is gonna be huge for us.” The Beat picked up his camera after our final note faded. “Say something. I want this moment on film.”
“Five bucks says this guy drops his camera before the end of the rehearsal.” Kevin smirked at the lens. “No. Ten.”
“I’ll get in on that action,” Nelson piped up.
“Say something about the show tonight, morons,” The Beat said, swinging around wildly and nearly falling backward. Zander had to grab his arm to keep him from eating concrete.
“So close.” Nelson laughed.
“I’ll say something.” Zander picked up his guitar. “Thanks to Kacey for booking this gig,” he sang to the camera. “After tonight, we might make it big. Our fans’ll demand that we write more jingles. They’ll even ask us to record a single.”
“Nerd alert.” Stevie stuffed her hands in her pockets.
“I love it,” I said, beaming at Zander over Stevie’s head.
“Actually, we should start talking about putting together an album,” Kevin agreed. “If we get good footage of the show tonight, maybe we could use it to get some paying gigs. Earn enough money to get a couple of hours in a recording studio.”
“Totally,” I said. Over on the pool table, my phone beeped in my coat pocket. I pulled it out and stopped in my tracks. There was one new voice mail from an unknown number.
I grabbed Stevie’s wrist. “Can you join me outside for a second?” I muttered urgently through a Simon Smile.
Stevie slapped my hand away. “What are you doing?”
“Chick fight!” Nelson crowed.
The Beat swung his camera in her direction. “Nice. Does anybody know if this thing has a slo-mo setting?”
“Dibs on a copy,” Kevin said quickly.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re all disgusting.”
“What’s going on?” Zander asked.
“Nothing. Stevie dropped a mitten outside. We need to go get it.” I grabbed her hand, my heart racing with adrenaline.
The rest of the
band stopped and looked at Stevie’s hands. Stevie’s fingerless-glove-covered hands.
“Fine. I have to talk to her.” I sighed. “In private. About… girl problems.”
“Ohhh!” Kevin and Nelson jumped back.
The Beat turned off the camera. “I’m out.”
“We’ll, uh, we’ll be here. Whenever you’re done.” Even Zander looked freaked out. “Take your time.”
“We’ll just be a second,” I yelled at the guys’ backs, then dragged Stevie outside. It couldn’t have been over forty degrees, but I barely felt the cold as I showed her the screen of my phone.
“Ohmygod.” Stevie clutched my arm. It was the first time I’d seen her lose her cool.
“Calm down. It’s probably just Mom, asking me to stop by the dry cleaner on my way home.” Still, my fingers were clumsy on the keypad as I typed in my voice mail PIN.
But when I heard the voice, I nearly dropped my phone.
“Ms. Simon? My name is Mick Williams, and I’m Levi Stone’s manager. Apologies for the last-minute call, but Mr. Stone wanted me to contact you regarding your message…”
I finished listening to the message, then blinked victoriously at Stevie.
“So… we did it.”
“Huh?”
“We did it!” I grabbed her by the shoulders. “As in, Levi Stone is coming to Marquette Middle School tonight to dedicate a song to his number one fan. And in a few hours, Channel Five will get a call from yours truly saying Levi specifically requested that Sterling Simon interview him at the school.”
There was a silent beat. Then Stevie screamed and shoved me into the chain-link fence that bordered the sidewalk. “No. You’re lying.”
Gleefully, I shook my head. “Nope. He’s gonna come in and dedicate a song to Paige. After he plays, Levi will give an exclusive interview to Mom. And do you know where she can’t be when she’s in the courtyard at Marquette?”
“On a hot-air balloon with my dad?” Her smile was all teeth.
“Bingo.”
“Nice work, Simon.” She held up her palm.
I slapped it. “You too.”
We hurried back into the loft, a huge smile on my face. In just a few hours, Mom would get a huge opportunity, Marquette would get to see Levi Stone, and I would get my family back. Just Mom, Ella, and me. The way we were supposed to be.
A LITTLE GLOSS AND
A MAJOR POP STAR SHOULD DO IT
Friday, 5:47 P.M.
“Would you hold still? You’re gonna look like a linebacker if I don’t get this liquid eyeliner right.” Liv sat back on her heels and inspected my makeup. Palettes of organic shadows, blushes, and glosses littered the floor at the foot of my bed. Liv’s hand and the hem of her ratty I THINK, THEREFORE I AM VEGETARIAN T-shirt were smudged with shimmery swatches.
“Scalp burns aren’t too hot, either. Just sit tight a second,” Nessa said. Crouched behind me in a lavender lace miniskirt and long-sleeved black blouse, she wound a thick handful of my hair around a jumbo hot roller. Then she plucked a hairpin from the hem of her skirt and secured the last of my locks.
“I know, I know. I’m just excited.” And counting the minutes until I can call Channel 5, request Sterling Simon’s presence at Marquette Middle School, and threaten to call Channel 2 if anyone else shows up in her place.
I glanced out my tiny bedroom window. Paige’s townhouse was dark. She’d refused to get ready at my place as long as Molly and the girls were there, but had pinky-sworn to make an appearance at the dance, despite the fact that the rally had rendered her life “hollow and meaningless.”
“What about this one?” Molly popped out of my closet in a body-hugging gray silk number with an asymmetrical hem. I’d bought it for the Channel 5 holiday party last year, but then Ella chugged half a carton of eggnog before we left and the dress never made it out of the house.
“It’s yours, Madame Chairperson. Just make sure to cut the tags off.”
Molly smooched the air and disappeared again.
“Are we done here, fabulous hair-and-makeup team?” I hopped up and tightened the sash on my silky bathrobe.
“Yup,” Nessa and Liv chimed.
“Awesome. Thanks.” On my bedside table, a Lady Gaga dance mix pumped from my iPod dock. The second I reached for the volume button, Molly reappeared in a pair of gladiator-style booties.
“Don’t touch the Gaga,” she warned, waving a satin jewel-toned clutch menacingly. “Never touch the Gaga.”
“Easy, little monster.” I backed off, even though I was dying to hit PAUSE and spill my big secret about Levi Stone. But an announcement like this deserved the ultimate in perfect timing. And with Liv chasing me around with a lip brush all night and Nessa flossing for the fourteenth time, I hadn’t found the right moment yet.
A knock sounded at my bedroom door, and the handle squeaked.
“Moooom!” I knew it was her because she’d always done that: knocked and then waltzed right in. I’d explained over and over that this was as pointless as Ella yelling “EXCUSE ME!” before she bulldozed her way into a conversation.
“Don’t mind me; I just wanted to see you girls all dressed up.” Mom leaned against the doorjamb, wearing an ivory V-neck sweater, dark-wash skinny jeans, and espresso equestrian boots. Ella wriggled past her in purple flippers and a sundress with—
Stop. Rewind. Play.
My mother. Was wearing. Skinny jeans.
“Ow ow!” Molly turned from the full-length mirror behind my closet door and gave her butt a little shake. “You look hot, Mrs. Simon! Hey, Ellie Bellie.”
“Ow ow!” Ella wriggled her butt, too. “Hey.”
“You think they look okay?” Mom tried to hide her smile. And failed. “You don’t think they make me look too—”
“Young?” I offered. “Like you’re trying too hard?”
“Lemme see!” Liv leapt out of my closet in a burnt-orange backless halter dress. The silk grazed my arm as she rushed to hug Mom. “No way. I think you look amazing.”
“Agreed.” Nessa paused in her meticulous pomade-to-pixie application long enough to admire my mother. “Total ten. Eleven, even.”
“Well, you girls made my night. I just got them. I have a little… engagement tonight.”
“Wooooo-hooooo!” My friends whistled.
“Get it, girl.” Nessa grinned.
“Nessa! Ew.” I rolled my eyes. It was weird seeing Mom look so… young. But the longer I watched her, the more I wondered if the jeans really had anything to do with it. Maybe it was the natural flush to her cheeks or the sparkle in her green eyes. I was used to seeing her after a long day at the studio: crow’s feet, dark circles, and tired smile beneath layers of makeup.
“You guys look a lot alike tonight,” Nessa observed, glancing between me and my mom. “All happy.”
“Me, too! Me, too!” Ella waved her hand frantically.
“You, too,” Liv said gently, tousling Ella’s curls.
“I’ll take that as the highest of compliments.” Mom pulled Ella and me in for a quick squeeze. “Now I’ve got to finish getting ready.” She kissed me on the forehead. “Have fun tonight, baby.”
“Yeah. You, too,” I muttered as the door closed again. With my next breath, I inhaled a cloud of Mom’s gardenia perfume and swallowed hard. Was breaking up Mom and Gabe a huge mistake? I wanted my mother to be happy. I wanted her to have flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes and even skinny jeans, as long as she didn’t steal mine. But couldn’t she have all those things with Ella and me? Weren’t we enough?
“Kacey. Is she not the cutest?” Molly was saying. She whipped her hair into a high ponytail, then let it fall and started over.
“Who?”
“Your mom, duh. I wish I could find a guy who’d take me out on dates like that.”
“Ummm…” I shook my head, trying to rid it of Mom and Gabe. “Don’t you already have that? What about… Detroit?”
“Phoenix.”
“Right. Phoenix,” I s
aid as I slid the bronze sequined racer-back mini Paige and I had picked out at Nordstrom Rack from its hanger. Then I slipped the dress over my head and sat at my vanity, unwinding the rollers from my hair.
Molly’s reflection seemed to shrink in the corner of the mirror. “We kind of… aren’t together anymore.”
“Wait. What?” I ditched the rollers and jumped up. “Are you serious? What happened?”
“I don’t know, really.” Mols dropped to the edge of my bed. “He just sort of stopped FaceTimeing me and stuff, so a few days ago I texted and asked him what was up, and he texted back that he was looking for somebody who was more mature.”
“No way! I can’t believe that guy!” Nessa whacked my duvet with an open palm. “And by the way, mature is code for old. Mommy issues.”
“Oh, Mols.” I knelt in front of her. “I—boys suck,” I proclaimed. “He’s a loser.”
Liv rubbed Molly’s back in wide circles, like Mom always did mine when I was sick. “He’s so not worth it, sweetie.”
“But how can he not like me? Guys always like me.” She looked genuinely bewildered. “It’s my thing.”
I brushed her white-blond layers away from her eyes. “It’s not your only thing. What about your party-planning thing?”
“I guess.”
“You’re right, though.” I sighed semi-dramatically, realizing instantly what would make her feel better. “When you’re in the room, it’s like guys don’t notice any other girl. Like tonight. Eeeevery girl’s gonna want to talk to Levi Stone, and he probably won’t notice any of us once you hit the dance floor.” I let my shoulders slump.
“I know, but—” Molly blinked. “Huh?”
“Levi Stone,” I said casually. “Did I not—did I forget to mention?”
“Kace. Are you okay?” Liv squinted at me like she was staring through a foggy set of contacts.
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “But I’ll be better once we get to school. To see Levi Stone. Who just agreed to play a song at the dance in exchange for an interview with my mother.”
It was partly true. The part about Levi Stone playing a song was, at least.
We sat in silence for a full eight beats, while the girls studied me like we were back at Shedd and I was some exotic species of flying dolphin.