by Ginger Rue
Tig had had it. “Wait just a minute! You don’t get to go around kicking people out of my band!”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Haley said. “This may have been your idea, and this may be your pitiful little building to rehearse in, but make no mistake: this is my band. The only reason we’d ever get booked would be because of me. The only reason anyone would come hear us play is because of me. In short, this band is nothing without me. You don’t even exist without me. So you either fix her or get rid of her. And those are my final words.”
They heard a car pull up in the gravel and the horn honk. “Later,” Haley said.
The other girls watched in silence as her car pulled away.
Finally Tig said, “There are no words. Just . . . no words.”
“You wouldn’t really kick me out of the band, would you?” Robbie asked.
Tig started laughing. Olivia did too. Even Kyra couldn’t help but join in.
“Well, at least somebody likes me,” said Robbie. “And to think, after I tried so hard to be nice to her!”
“This is all my fault,” Kyra said.
No one said anything.
“Isn’t anyone going to disagree with me?” Kyra asked. “Someone’s supposed to say, ‘No, Kyra, it’s not your fault.’”
Tig shrugged, and even Kyra sort of laughed before continuing. “Okay, okay, it’s my fault. Look, I know she’s got to go, but what do you think she’ll do if we kick her out? And where are we going to find another lead singer?”
“I’m worn-out,” Olivia said. “I’m too tired and too hungry to process this. Let’s go grab some supper, and then we can obsess.”
It was agreed. They wouldn’t think about the Haley problem until after dinner.
Tig couldn’t help but worry, though. It was her band, and she’d be the one who’d have to get rid of Haley. Why did Kyra have to get her into this mess? There was no telling what Haley, along with Regan and Sofia, might do to get back at her. Plus, if the band failed once Haley was out, the Bots would tell everyone it was because Pandora’s Box couldn’t make it without Haley.
Tig couldn’t let that happen. She’d have to find a lead singer who would bring something special to the band, somebody who could front like nobody’s business, somebody with a special something that would bring in an audience and attract a following.
If she was going to kick Haley out, she’d have to replace her with someone amazing.
But where in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, in her realm of middle-school girls, was she supposed to find this person?
Chapter Fourteen
At Pepe’s Grill, Tig’s mom and dad sat with her sibs at a separate table in the back so Tig wouldn’t have to be seen with them, which Tig thought was pretty decent on their part. Robbie, Olivia, Kyra, and Tig sat in a booth next to a raised platform made out of plywood. There was a microphone on a stand and a screen in front of it.
While the waiter took their drink orders, Tig asked, “What gives with the little stage?”
“You didn’t see the sign?” the waiter asked.
“What sign?”
“Karaoke Fridays! You going to sing for us?”
Tig laughed. “I don’t sing.”
“That’s what makes it fun,” he said.
“Ooh! We could do a duet!” Kyra said. “Want to see what songs they have?”
“I’ll pass,” Tig said. “But, Olivia, feel free.”
Olivia smiled. “I’ll stick to the keyboard.”
After a few performances, the hostess took the mic. “Come on! Who’s next?” she asked.
A family in the back shouted, “Right here! This one!”
The hostess said, “Oh, I think we have someone who’s a little shy! Let’s give this young lady a little encouragement, huh?” Everyone clapped and hooted. Eventually a small, thin middle-school girl emerged. Her light auburn hair fell partially over the pale hand that shielded her face. She was wearing khaki pants, a buttery-yellow cardigan, and a white T-shirt, as well as a silk scarf with pinks and the yellow of the cardigan. She looked shy and embarrassed.
“That’s Claire Roberts from school!” Olivia said. “She just started at Lakeview at the end of last year. She’s from Australia or somewhere. She’s so sweet.” Olivia waved, but Claire was too busy hiding to see her.
“Claire Roberts doing karaoke?” Robbie said. “I don’t think I’ve ever even heard her voice. She never speaks in class.”
“She doesn’t have to; she already knows everything,” Tig said. “She’s, like, a genius or something. A real brain.”
“She’s sweet, though,” Olivia repeated. “Don’t you think she’s sweet?”
“Yeah, she’s nice,” Tig said. “It’s just that nobody really knows her. She’s so quiet.”
“What’s she going to sing?” Robbie asked. “Man, I almost feel bad for her. She looks so embarrassed.”
The music started.
It wasn’t what they expected.
Heavy guitar and drums. A distinctive riff.
“‘Plush’!” Robbie shouted to Tig. “She’s going to sing ‘Plush’?”
Claire didn’t look at the audience but kept her eyes glued to the screen. She started off quietly, her voice a little shaky. But as the song went on, she got louder.
And gravelly-er.
And rocking-er.
Robbie, Olivia, Kyra, and Tig looked at one another in utter disbelief.
No way! Robbie mouthed to Tig.
Claire Roberts—shy, quiet, little Claire Roberts, who was as delicate as expensive china and seemed like she might break into a million pieces if you looked at her the wrong way—was belting out Stone Temple Pilots as though a rock goddess were trapped inside her tiny body, screaming to escape. Claire seemed to have forgotten that anyone else was in the room and, infected by the music, she belted out the lyrics from a dark, secret place. Never in a million years would Tig or anyone else have guessed that a voice like that—a voice so raw and fierce and commanding—could come out of the cutesy little package all tied up with a yellow-and-pink scarf.
When Claire went back to her seat to the sound of thunderous applause, Robbie stared at Tig. Her eyes were insistent.
“Way ahead of you,” Tig said to Robbie.
Chapter Fifteen
“We should’ve asked her to sit with us,” Robbie said as soon as the girls piled into the minivan.
“Not the right moment,” Tig said. “Not yet.”
“Well, when is the right moment?” Robbie asked. “We’ve got to get her. We’ve just got to. I can already picture the five of us onstage together!”
“First we’ve got to get rid of Haley,” Tig said.
“Who’s got Haley’s number?” Robbie said. “Kyra, you’ve probably got it in your phone, right? Gimme.”
“Cool your jets, Chan,” Tig said. “We can’t just call her and blurt out, ‘You’re out of the band.’”
“Sure we can,” Robbie replied. “It’s easy. Repeat after me: ‘Haley, you’re out of the band.’ See? Simple.” Tig just looked at her. “Well, it’s easy for me. Tell you what . . . I’ll be glad to do the honors.”
“I just bet you would,” Tig said with a smile.
Robbie grinned. “Granted, I might be prone to a bit of elaboration. How’s this sound? ‘Haley, because you’re a horrible, spoiled tyrant none of us can stand, we hereby kick you, with great pleasure, out of Pandora’s Box. Go forth and stink somewhere else.’”
Even Kyra laughed. But then she added, “If we don’t handle this just right, Haley, Regan, and Sofia will go on the warpath.”
Robbie scoffed. “They can just bring it, then. I’m not scared of them.”
“Oh, I am,” Olivia said. “I’m terrified of them!” No one said anything. “What? I’m the only one?”
“Of course not,” Tig said. “Robbie, I’d love to be as brave as you are, but the truth is, these girls are vicious, and I’m just not a fighter by nature. I don’t like conflict. I’m going to avoid it if I
can.”
“You’re going to let the Bots walk all over you?” Robbie said.
“I didn’t say that,” Tig said. “Look, I’ll break the news to Haley. On Monday. And I’ll do it as nicely as I can to try to keep the peace. I don’t want it to look like we’re dumping Haley for someone else.”
“But we are,” Olivia said. “We’re dumping her for Claire.”
“That doesn’t mean it has to look like it,” Tig replied. “And besides, we were going to dump Haley anyway. It just so happens we found her replacement earlier than we’d anticipated. But if the Bots think we kicked Haley out because of Claire—man, just think what they’d do to poor Claire! And she’s so nice. I don’t think it would be fair of us to put her in that position.”
“It’s kind of, like, let’s say you were dating this guy who you decide is totally wrong for you,” Kyra explained. “And you’re planning to break up with him. But before you get a chance, you meet this other great guy who’s totally right for you. But you can’t go out with Right Guy immediately after you dump Wrong Guy because then it looks like you dumped Wrong Guy for Right Guy, even though you knew you were going to dump Wrong Guy before you even met Right Guy. Right?”
“Yes,” Tig said. “As ridiculously confusing as that was, yes. That’s it exactly.”
“So we’re going to all this trouble to prevent a Botpocalypse from raining down, not only on all of us, but also on Claire?” Robbie asked.
“Yeah,” Tig said.
“I guess I can see your point,” Robbie replied. “I mean, they can bring it all day long as far as I’m concerned, but Claire does seem fragile. She’s so quiet. She might curl up and die if they pick on her. I wouldn’t want that. The only part I hate is that we have to be nice about it all to Haley. She certainly doesn’t give a rip about being nice to us.”
“I know,” Tig said. “Haley doesn’t deserve it. But my mom always says the people who need kindness most are the ones who deserve it least.”
“Gag. Did she read that on a poster?” Robbie asked.
“I know,” Tig said. “But even so, we’ve got to be smart about this. Staying out of a war with Haley is a matter of survival. Getting on the wrong side of the Bots would be a real Pandora’s box that I do not want to open if we can avoid it.”
“Okay, I can respect that,” Robbie said. “It’s less fun this way, but I respect it.”
“What if Claire says no?” Kyra asked. “I mean, she seemed pretty nervous just getting up for karaoke at Pepe’s. What if she doesn’t want to be the lead singer for an actual band?”
“It can’t hurt to ask,” Olivia said. “All she can say is no, and then we’re no worse off than we were before.”
“Oh, but Claire just has to say yes,” Robbie said. “Her voice will haunt my dreams until the day I die!”
“She is amazing,” Tig said. “I don’t think she realizes how amazing she is. You’re right, Robbie. She has to say yes. She just has to.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tig had rehearsed her speech to Haley a thousand times over the weekend. She was going to go with the old it’s-not-you-it’s-me routine: Your voice is really special, Haley, but we’re just not the best band for it. We’re more of a rock band, and really, your voice is so much better suited to ballads and pieces where you can really showcase your range. Sure, it was a snow job, but it was a snow job of kindness and restraint . . . and self-preservation. Tig was sure any reasonable person would appreciate how delicately she handled the situation and would bow out gracefully, self-esteem intact, and not start a war over it.
But, of course, Haley was not known for being a reasonable person.
Tig approached the Bot Spot in the gym Monday morning before school.
In her peripheral vision, she could see Kyra, Olivia, and Robbie sitting together, trying to pretend they weren’t watching.
All the Bots in the radius eyed Tig’s intrusion into their space with curiosity. No one had to say a word; the knowledge that an outsider had encroached upon their space was instantly telegraphed to them all, and they sat alert, as though awaiting their cue to attack and defend their territory.
“S’up, Haley?” Tig said, trying to sound casual, trying to act as though she didn’t feel all those pairs of eyes burning holes through her.
“I suppose you’ve come to tell me you’ve gotten rid of that loser who was playing guitar in my band?” Haley said.
Tig felt her face flush. Loser? Her band? There were so many things to be angry about at once, Tig almost couldn’t process them. Keep your head, Tig, she told herself.
“Actually, I did want to discuss something with you about the band,” Tig said. “Could we talk somewhere privately?”
“Anything you have to say to Haley, you can say to our whole crew,” Regan said.
Who asked you? Tig wanted to say. “Well, it’s kind of a sensitive matter.”
“Like Regan said,” Haley replied, “whatever you’ve got to say, spill it.”
“Okay, then,” Tig said. “About the band. We think your singing is really . . . something. Really something . . . special.” Tig wasn’t exactly lying. Special could mean many things. Like, out of the ordinary. And Haley’s singing was definitely out of the ordinary.
Haley beamed and looked at Regan for affirmation.
“So, based on that,” Tig continued, “we feel that our band isn’t really showcasing your . . . specialness.”
“Finally!” Haley said. “It’s about time you came to your senses. So, here’s the plan. From now on, I pick the songs, I pick the tempo and the key, and the rest of you basically just do what I tell you. It’s going to be a lot better this way.”
“That’s not exactly what I . . . what we . . . had in mind,” Tig said.
Regan bristled. She actually sat up straighter and inclined her face toward Tig. “Then what did you have in mind?”
“Well, I . . . we . . . were thinking that maybe Pandora’s Box isn’t a good fit for Haley’s voice. We sort of want to go with more of a rock ‘n’ roll format, and Haley really needs . . .” Suddenly Tig couldn’t remember anything she had rehearsed. She desperately wanted to either erase the entire conversation or end her last sentence with a lobotomy, but she knew neither was a viable option.
“Wait,” Regan said. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” She put her hand up and her head down. When she looked back up, she was laughing. But not in a good way. More like an evil villain way. “Are you trying to say that you . . . that your pathetic little bandmates and you . . . are kicking Haley out?”
“It’s not really like that,” Tig said. “‘Kicking out’ sounds so harsh. It’s more like, I don’t know, a parting of the ways, you might say. We’re just going in different artistic directions.” That sounded pretty good, Tig thought. Not bad.
But Regan and Haley weren’t buying it.
“I cannot believe what I’m hearing!” Haley said. “Who do you think you are? How dare you! How dare you kick me out of your crappy little excuse for a band when I am the only one with any actual talent!”
That was it.
“Look, Haley,” Tig said. “I was trying to be nice about this, but . . .” Tig let out a growl of frustration. “You just can’t let anyone be nice, can you? Okay, then, fine. Gloves off. The fact is, you can’t sing. You can’t! I wish you could, but you can’t!” Tig had completely lost her cool, and people all over the gym were looking at her. She saw several girls from different cliques whispering to one another. Tig wondered if they thought she was a psycho or if they admired her for standing up to the Bots.
Haley didn’t yell, though. She was quiet. Calm. She said matter-of-factly, “You are an idiot. An ugly, reject, loser idiot. I’m a great singer.” She even had a smile on her face when she said it. Anyone watching might have thought Haley had said something nice to Tig. That only made Tig angrier.
“No, you’re not!” Tig said. “Maybe these fake friends of yours say you are, maybe your mom and your grandma or w
hoever says so. But guess what? They’re totally lying! You stink! Maybe if you weren’t so arrogant, you could learn how to actually sing . . . take some direction from somebody . . . but that’s never going to happen! You’re condescending and mean and impossible to get along with! So that’s it—you’re out. Good-bye and good riddance!”
As Tig walked away, adrenaline surging through her body, Regan got up, grabbed Tig’s arm, and whispered, “Watch your back!” before returning to her seat.
Olivia, Kyra, and Robbie were staring, open-mouthed, at Tig as she walked up. “I think it’s safe to say that didn’t go as well as I’d hoped,” Tig said.
“We couldn’t hear, but it seemed to escalate pretty quickly,” Robbie replied.
The four of them looked back at Regan and Haley’s stronghold. They were all huddled together in a strategy session.
“This is bad,” Kyra said. “What are they going to do to us?”
“I don’t know,” Tig answered. “But whatever it is, it’s not going to be pretty.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ugly.
The word kept rattling around inside Tig’s head for the rest of the day and into the evening, taunting her even as she tried to fall asleep that night.
Haley had called her ugly.
Idiot, loser, reject—whatever. She’d expected those. She didn’t take them personally. They were just words. Tig knew she wasn’t an idiot. She made good grades and was obviously bright. And loser and reject, well, those were just middle-school categories she knew she had it in her to break free from.
But ugly? That stung.
Tig looked in the mirror after supper that night. She examined everything about herself. Her skin was sallow, not radiant. Her nose was kind of a blob. The braces didn’t do much for her smile. Her hair was brown and a little on the frizzy side, nothing lush and beautiful about it. She wasn’t overweight, but she wasn’t skinny. Her legs were thin but not shapely; she disliked her ankles. Her arms were too hairy, her feet too big, her stomach too round.