by Meg Haston
“Oh. My. God. I think she’s serious!” Nessa whispered. “Levi Stone!”
“Ahhhhhhhhh!” The girls scooped me into a giant hug, hooking their arms around my neck and squeezing. The scent of vanilla, amber, and brown sugar body lotions overwhelmed me.
“How did you—I don’t even—how is this possible?” Molly screeched into my neck. “This is gonna be the best dance ever! And I’m the party planner! I mean, I’ll give you credit and everything, but still!”
“I have to redo my hair,” Nessa decided.
“No time,” I argued. “You guys have to finish setting up, and I’m late for sound check.” I tugged at the hem of my dress. “Oh. And you can’t tell anyone. It has to be a surprise when he shows. Swear?”
“But—” Molly looked like she was about to pee right there on my bed.
“SWEAR.”
“Okaaaay.”
“Good.” Reaching for my bedside table, I plucked a sparkly guitar-shaped statement ring from my ring dish and slipped into a pair of sky-high black calf-hair heels. Then one last mirror check. My waves were huge, adding a sixties mod vibe to my sequined dress. For my makeup, Liv had gone with a rich, brown smoky eye, peach blush, and a hint of icy pink gloss on my lips. Everything was perfect. The only thing missing was Zander.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” I sang. “It’s time, baby!”
“Wait! Wait.” Liv crouched next to her makeup bag and pulled out three slender green glass rings. “My grandpa helped me make them from these old natural soda bottles we found in the garage.”
“Love!” I slid mine on my middle finger. It fit perfectly.
“Good. Now, it’s picture time.” Liv dragged us to my photo booth, and we crammed inside. Molly collapsed on my lap.
“Ow! Mols! You’re bending my sequins!” I smacked her thigh.
“Everybody say ‘Leeeeviiiiiiii!’ ” Liv instructed.
We held out our hands to the camera like we were flashing serious bling.
“Leeeeeeeviiiiiiiiiii!” The flashbulb exploded in a burst of gold, like fireworks signaling the beginning of a perfect night.
COUNTDOWN TO MARQUETTE AT MIDNIGHT
Friday, 7:50 P.M.
“Check. Check.” Zander’s voice boomed across the nearly empty courtyard. “We’re Gravity, and we’ll be holding it down all night. Check.”
“Why don’t we try a few bars of your new song?” I bounced next to him on the low black platform that extended from one corner of The Square and came to a point in the center. Molly had flirted one of the seventh-grade tech crew guys into painting Gravity’s logo in silver glitter paint beneath our feet. Kevin, Nelson, and The Beat hung behind us, tuning instruments and checking amps.
“Sounds good.” Zander cupped his palm over the mic. “Except you mean our song, right?” he said coyly.
“Obviously.” I nodded, instantly grateful for the low lighting in The Square. Above us, hundreds of mercury-glass votives hung from the ceiling at different levels, casting a romantic haze over the gleaming slate floors. It was as if Zander and I were standing at the edge of the universe together.
Stevie, on the other hand, was teetering on the brink of insanity. I’d never seen her this nervous. She power-paced in front of the door to Silverstein, little jet-black wisps from her messy bun tumbling around her temples. Let her freak out, I thought. I’d never been more at peace. Everything was falling into place. Finally.
“Hold on just a sec. I’m a little out of tune.”
While Zander plucked a single string on his Gibson, I took in Molly and the girls’ handiwork. Newly planted flower beds filled The Square with the fresh, green scent of gardenia and tulips. Sleek silver tables and bar stools lined the perimeter. And a long rustic table at the back was piled high with snacks, drinks, and punch bowls. The vibe was chic romance, all the way.
“You did good, Mols,” I said into my mic. “Sweet theme.” Across The Square, Liv and Nessa were hanging a MARQUETTE AT MIDNIGHT banner above the refreshments, while Molly checked her lip gloss in the reflection of one of the hanging votives.
“Thanks, Kace! And, um…” Molly released the candle into the air and hurried to the edge of the stage. She eyed Zander and let her voice drop so low, I could hardly hear her. “You should know that I kind of advertised our celeb musical guest on FB like an hour ago.”
“Molly KNIGHT!” I crouched to her level, ready to throttle her with one of Zander’s out-of-tune guitar strings. “Is this a joke?” I hissed. “I specifically told you not to say anything!” I turned around. None of the guys seemed to be paying attention to our powwow, but it never hurt to be sure.
“Hey, Beat. Can I hear that drum solo you were rocking the other day? From the Hard Rock Life piece?” I asked.
“Lady wants the drums, lady gets the drums,” The Beat agreed. “ONE! TWO! ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!” He threw himself into the solo.
“What’s going on?” Stevie popped up behind Molly in nude platform peep-toes and a white feather-skirted number that fluttered when she walked.
“Molly Facebooked about Levi!” I yelled over the drums. Sweat was starting to form under my sequins.
“Okay, I’m really hoping I heard that wrong.” Stevie took a menacing step toward Mols, who didn’t back down. “What if he doesn’t show or something? Did you bleach your brain the last time you did your hair?”
“HEY! This color is natch.”
I coughed.
“And before you freak out, you should know I didn’t post his name. I just said a ‘mystery celeb musical guest.’ That way, people are sure to show.”
“Whatever. You better hope you can deliver.” Stevie yanked her bun tight. Then she grabbed my wrist and pulled me offstage. “Excuse us for a sec.”
“Doors open in five. Where is he?” Her voice was getting more and more panicked with every second. I hadn’t seen her blink in at least ten minutes, and it was starting to freak me out.
“Relax. He’ll be here. His manager guy, Mick, called and said he’d show up a few minutes late so he doesn’t ruin the surprise. Gravity can get started, and then we’ll bring him in for his song. Easy.”
“And you called the station to request your mom?”
“ ‘Um, hiiiii,’ ” I cooed in my best bored, hot receptionist voice. “ ‘I’m calling on behalf of Levi Stoooone? He’s doing, like, a benefit concert for this dyyyyyying girl? And he’s requesting an interview with—’ ”
“Okay, okay. Got it.” Stevie scanned The Square for the umpteenth time. “Seriously, if he doesn’t—oh! I forgot to show you this!” She knelt down and pulled a small silver disc from inside her heel.
I cocked my head. “Super Jane Bond of you, but I don’t get it.”
“The battery to my dad’s cell, so when your mom calls to cancel—”
“—he won’t get the message,” I finished. I could have thrown my arms around her, but we weren’t there yet, and hopefully after tonight, we would never have to be. “Nice touch.”
“Uh, guys?” Zander summoned us via mic. “We kinda have a show to do.” He looked back and forth between Stevie and me with a hopeful, yet slightly panicked glaze in his eye. It was the same expression Mom got when she realized she hadn’t heard a peep out of Ella and the house was too quiet for comfort.
“We’re good.” I reached out and let Zander pull me onto the stage, his hand warm in mine. My legs felt wobbly, and I kicked off my heels and nudged them out of the way. “So let’s try that song once through, and then maybe Stevie can rehearse one of the Hard Rock Life numbers?” Reluctantly, I released Zander’s hand.
“You’re assuming I need the practice.” Stevie leaned against the stage. “Which I don’t.”
“Good,” Molly called. “ ’Cause it’s time! We’re opening the doors.” She and Nessa pulled open the doors to Silverstein, and The Square filled almost instantly, sending the temperature in the courtyard to packed-El-car-in-July level.
I surveyed the crowd. Quinn and his buddies hung
in the back by the refreshments, and my old Channel M director, Carlos, sauntered in wearing a pair of stiff skinnies. Molly hung by the doors while Liv and Nessa snapped shots of The Square with Nessa’s cell. Dr. Phil and Sean stood awkwardly off to the side. I wondered how long it would take them to pink-slip me for bringing in an unauthorized musical guest.
“What’s up, Marquette?” Zander yelled into the mic. “I’m Zander Jarvis—”
“And I’m Kacey Simon!” I slipped my hands around my mic. At the very back of The Square, I spotted Paige slipping through the doors. Her head was down and her shoulders were slumped.
“And this is Gravity!” Zander cheered. “We’ll be holding it down all night, and we’re here to rock!”
“Musical guest! Musical guest!” chanted a group of sixth graders in the back. “Woooooo-hoooooo!”
“Uh, thanks, guys.” Zander stole a bewildered glance at me. I shrugged. “Here we go. One, two, three, four.”
We tore into our first number, a cover of one of The Beat’s favorite Springsteen tunes. Soon, the courtyard was so full that kids were packed around the stage, dancing and singing along. A few fans lifted iPhones high in the air, recording our debut.
I sang with everything I had. The mic carried my voice to the corners of The Square, making me feel powerful. I closed my eyes and imagined a screaming crowd in a huge venue. Pritzker Pavilion, maybe. After tonight, anything would be possible.
“Zander Jarvis on guitar, guys! Give it up!” I shouted into the mic as Zander shredded an insane guitar solo. When he finished, The Square erupted in cheers, whistles, and applause. I lifted my hand, and Zander high-fived it. His chest rose and fell to the beat of the song we’d just played.
“Thank you. Thanks, guys. Awesome turnout tonight. Let’s get a hand for Kacey Simon on vocals, Kevin Cho on bass, Nelson Lund on keyboard, and last but not least… The Beat! On! Drums!”
“Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Energy from the crowd pulsed around us. I smiled and waved as some girl from sixth snapped our photo with her cell.
“And now, we’re gonna try a new song. A duet. We hope you guys like—”
At the foot of the stage, Stevie waved frantically. I recognized her flailing as the international signal for The major pop star you ordered to sing to your non-dying friend for the purpose of breaking up our parents is here.
“Uh, actually, guys,” I interrupted. “We have a special treat for you tonight. The surprise musical guest you’ve been waiting for is here!” Goose bumps prickled over my entire body. This was happening. Actually happening. I’d pulled it off.
“Huh?” Zander’s confusion was swallowed whole in the cheers of the audience. He looked to me, and I tried to send You’re gonna love this vibes. But the swinging lights above us flickered over his face, making it hard to read.
“I’m gonna let your Party Planning Committee chair do the honors, and then we’ll bring him in!” I motioned to Molly, and she hurried to the stage. Nelson, Kevin, Zander, and The Beat stood dumbfounded, but there wasn’t time to explain. I jumped barefoot into the audience and followed Stevie as she elbowed her way through the wall of middle schoolers.
“You rock, Kacey!” somebody cheered.
“WHERE IS HE?” I yelled at the back of Stevie’s head.
“HEMINGWAY,” she yelled back, without turning around. We reached the edge of The Square, and she yanked the door open. I slipped inside, and she locked it behind us.
The guy standing in front of me looked nothing like the Levi Stone I’d pieced together in my mind from the MTV cameos and iTunes album covers. He was only a head or so taller than me, and thin like Zander, with shoulder-length brown hair and dark brown eyes. The beginnings of a beard shadowed his cheeks and jaw line, and he was dressed in wrinkled jeans, a brown T-shirt, and sneakers. With the exception of the whole successful facial hair thing, he didn’t look much older than us. High school, maybe.
“L-Levi Stone?” My whole body felt like it was asleep. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Levi’s grin was adorably crooked, with one of his front teeth overlapping the other. He adjusted the guitar strap that crossed his chest. The strap was frayed at the edges, like Zander’s.
“Levi, this is Kacey Simon. She’s Sterling Simon’s daughter!” Stevie’s tone was cheerful enough to freak me out a little. “And she’s good friends with Paige. The”—she leaned in—“goner?”
“Yeah, hi.” I stuck out my hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“No worries. And, uh, sorry about your friend.”
“Yeah, well.” I lowered my head.
“And this is my manager, Mick. He’s the one who got your mom’s e-mail.”
“Hey there.” An older guy with a gray ponytail stepped out from behind Zander. He was skinny, with puckered lips and warm blue eyes.
Stevie and I nodded. “Hey.”
Outside, the kids started chanting. “Mystery guest! Mystery guest!”
“No problem,” Levi said. “So where is your mom? Does she wanna do the interview now, or…”
“We just talked to her,” Stevie assured him, while shooting me a Where is she? look over my head. “She had to get her crew together, but she’s on her way.”
Levi bobbed his head. “Cool. So maybe I could meet Paige? I was thinking if she wanted, I could bring her onstage for a song or two. As long as she’s not… contagious?”
“NO!” Stevie’s voice started to quiver. “I mean, no. Paige is über-self-conscious about her green… ness. She’ll probably be hiding in the back so you can’t see her face.”
My toes curled. “Verticopolus.” I exhaled a shuddery breath. “The silent killer.”
“Tragic.” Stevie ground her heel into my big toe.
Mick the Manager eyed us.
“Mystery guest! Mystery guest!”
Levi cracked his knuckles. “Let’s do this. Lead the way?”
“Yup. Follow us.” I unlocked the door to The Square and shoved through the doorway. The chants slowly morphed into ear-piercing whistles.
“Out of the way, people,” I shouted, clearing a path to the stage. “Levi Stone, coming through.” I wished I could freeze time, just for a second, and take it all in.
Molly exhaled into the mic as we got closer. “Marquette! Make some noise for the one and only Leeeviii Stooooone!”
I pressed my fingers into my ears to salvage what was left of my hearing, then stepped back while Levi took the stage. Molly shooed Gravity off the other side of the platform.
“What’s up, Chicago?” Levi dragged a stool in front of the mic and started tuning his guitar. “I’m stoked to be here, and I just want to give a shout-out to a super-special girl. She’s the reason I’m here, and she knows who she is.”
I scanned the crowd, looking for Paige, but didn’t see her anywhere. Phew.
“Here we go. And one, two.” Levi strummed the opening notes of his latest single. The ground beneath me shook.
“Don’t look,” Stevie yelled. “But your mom’s in the back, there. Six o’clock. By the refreshment table.”
I whipped around to see Mom powwowing with Jankowitz, her executive producer, and their entire crew. The camera guys dispersed into the crowd, filming shots of the stage and the students.
Stevie and I high-fived as she mouthed the word: Done.
LEVI WAS HERE
Friday, 8:30 P.M.
“Mom? What are you doing here?” I was going for utter surprise, with a twist of panic. I even threw in a hand to the chest, for effect. “Is everything okay?”
Mom looked relieved when she spotted us. “Girls!” I could barely hear her over the music. She’d changed into a rumpled black suit dress, and her hair was pulled back in a lopsided ponytail. “Everything’s fine. I’m here for work. To interview that kid, I suppose.” She squinted at the stage. “Apparently, he requested us at the last minute.”
“Cool.” Stevie nodded, her lips pinched into a thin line. “He’s totally a big deal.”
“And he’s doing this show for free? Charity, or something?” Mom shot me a quizzical glance. “I thought Gravity was supposed to play.”
I leaned in and gave Mom a kiss on the cheek, pretending not to hear. “So what about Gabe?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to call, but his cell’s going straight to voice mail.” Up close, Mom looked exhausted, all her sparkle from earlier gone. The tiny lines at the corners of her mouth were deeper than usual. Even her auburn bob had lost its sheen. “If we can do the interview in the next ten minutes or so, I can still make it.”
“Oh,” I said. “Good.” I eyed Stevie warily. With Levi only playing one song, there was the distinct possibility that Mom could finish the interview and get to Gabe in time for his high-altitude love proclamation. I crossed my fingers for an encore. “So let’s wait inside. It’s quieter in there.”
I nudged everyone into Silverstein and closed the door, muffling the screaming crowd.
“Oh. Jankowitz. This is Stevie, by the way.” I leaned against the closest locker. The chill of the metal sent icy shivers down my spine.
“What’s up?” Stevie nodded.
Jankowitz grunted a hello. He never really said much, but I’d always liked him. He’d produced news segments all over the world, and had met, like, thirteen world leaders. Once he told me that at a White House Correspondents’ Dinner, he’d caught Clinton picking an atomic wedgie after the salad course.
“I wonder what’s going on with your dad’s phone?” Mom looked to Stevie before she tapped her touch screen and pressed it to her ear. “Nothing.” She shook her head.
“Dunno.” Stevie shrugged. “He’s pretty irresponsible. Maybe he just turned it off and forgot about y—”
I elbowed her sharply in the ribs.
Mom turned to Jankowitz. “You’re sure he requested us specifically, Bob? Can’t we get one of the entertainment reporters out here?”
“Sorry, Sterling. Kid wants you, apparently.”
“I don’t have the slightest idea why.” Mom closed her eyes for a few beats. Her mouth turned down at the corners.