by Ginger Rue
“Since now,” Robbie said. “Slumber party games, I mean. Don’t reinvent the wheel; go with a classic. An oldie but a goodie. How about Truth or Dare?”
Kyra clapped her hands. “Ooh! I haven’t played that in years!”
Olivia said, “Sounds fun.”
“Okay by me,” said Tig. “What do you think, Claire?”
“Sure. Whatever you all want to do.”
“Let’s go up to my room. The walls have ears.” Tig gestured toward the kitchen, where her mom and dad were cleaning up paper plates and gathering the garbage.
Tig’s room was painted a silvery blue, which made her white wooden furniture and zebra-print bedding pop. Tig shut and locked the door, and the five girls piled onto her bed. “Who’s first?” Tig asked, grabbing a pillow to hug.
“Since it was Robbie’s idea, she gets to decide,” Kyra suggested.
“Okay, then,” Robbie said. “Claire, truth or dare?”
“No, don’t make Claire go first,” Tig said. “She barely knows us. We can’t expect her to spill her secrets.”
“Right,” Kyra said. “At least not until she has enough dirt on us to ensure our secrecy!”
“All right, all right,” Robbie said. “Olivia. Truth or dare?”
Olivia pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling. “Truth!”
“Chicken!” Kyra teased.
“If you could date any guy at school,” Robbie said, “who would it be?”
Olivia grinned. “Promise you won’t tell a soul?”
“And break the sanctity of the sleepover?” Tig said. “Perish the thought!”
“Then I’ll tell you,” Olivia said. “You promise, right?”
“Just spit it out!” Kyra said, elbowing Olivia.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Olivia said. “Will.”
“No way!” Robbie said. Kyra squealed in delight.
“Will Mason?” Tig asked.
“You promised you wouldn’t tell!” Olivia said. “A promise is a promise!”
Tig furrowed her brow. “Of course I won’t tell,” she said. “But just . . . Will? Really?”
“He’s adorable!” Olivia said. “Don’t you think so, Kyra?”
“Sure,” Kyra said. “Adorable. Right, Tig?”
“I guess I’ve just never thought of Will as, you know, adorable or whatever,” Tig replied. “Don’t you think he’s kind of annoying?”
“Not at all!” Olivia said. “Have you ever looked at those eyes?” She threw herself dramatically back onto the bed. “I could get lost in those eyes!”
“Will does have nice eyes,” Claire said. “He seems like a nice fellow.” She looked at Tig. “Isn’t he?”
“Well, yeah,” Tig said. “I mean, I guess so. It’s just . . . Will? Really? Will Mason?”
Olivia hit Tig’s arm playfully. “Yes, Will Mason!”
Tig looked at Robbie. “Will Mason is adorable?”
“I don’t do adorable,” said Robbie. “Not my thing. But whatever works for you, Olivia. Okay, you’re next.”
“Tig,” Olivia said. “Truth or dare?”
Tig’s mind was reeling from Olivia’s revelation. She could barely think straight. Olivia liked Will? Why? And how long had she been crushing on him? And why did Tig care? She didn’t care. She totally didn’t care. “Dare,” she said.
Olivia smiled. “I dare you to call Will,” she said, “on speakerphone! And find out what he thinks of me!”
Robbie high-fived Olivia. “Way to take the bull by the horns!” she said. “I mean, the more direct bull-and-horns method would be to just woman up and ask him yourself and then tell him to get lost if you don’t like his answer, but you know, this could work, too.”
“I don’t know about this, y’all,” Tig said.
“You have to do it! It’s a dare!” Olivia said.
“Yeah, but what if you don’t like what he says?”
“You think Will doesn’t like me?”
“I don’t know. I’m not saying that. Look, I’ll take the dare if it’s something I have to do, but it’s not really fair to Will to put him on speakerphone without telling him.”
Claire said, “That’s true. It would be bad form.”
“But I’m dying to know!” Olivia said.
“How long have you liked Will, anyway?” Kyra asked.
“Since the beginning of the year,” Olivia replied. “Did you see him when he got back from the beach this summer? His hair was so shiny, with the highlights from the sun, and his cute little legs were all brown.”
Tig hadn’t noticed.
“How about a compromise?” Robbie suggested. “How about if Tig calls him but doesn’t put him on speakerphone? She can make inquiries for you, get you the info you want, but not put Will in a bad position. That’s fair, don’t you think, Tig?”
Tig took a deep breath. “I guess so.”
“Yay!” Olivia said. “Call him right now!”
“I don’t even know his number.”
“It’s on his profile page,” Olivia said. “Not that I’ve cyberstalked him. Much.”
Once they had the number, Olivia, Robbie, Claire, and Kyra positioned themselves on the bed around Tig and stared as she started dialing. Tig stopped. “You’re all creeping me out.”
“It’s just so exciting!” Olivia said. “I want to know what he says.”
“Well, I can’t work under this kind of pressure,” Tig said. “I’m taking the phone into the bathroom.” The girls whined. “Don’t worry; I’ll give you a full report.”
Tig barricaded herself in the bathroom, sitting on a fuzzy bath mat. She took another deep breath as the number she called started ringing.
“Hello?”
“Will?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“Tig. Tig Ripley.”
“Oh. For a second there I thought maybe it was Tig Smith or Tig Finkleheimer.”
Tig laughed. “I guess that was a bit redundant.”
“Well, Tig Ripley, what’s up?”
“Yes,” Tig said. “What is up, indeed.” What? What did she just say? What in the heck did that even mean?
Will laughed. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
“I just, you know, wanted to see what you were up to.”
“Just watching TV. How about you?”
“Nothing much. Just sitting here in my bathroom.”
“You don’t say?” replied Will.
Tig realized how weird that sounded. “I mean, I’m not sitting in the bathroom, like, you know, using it or anything. I’m just in here because . . . my phone gets better reception in here.”
“Okay,” Will said.
“So, I just thought we could, you know, chat.”
“Sounds good. What do you want to chat about?”
Tig made small talk about the drums for a few minutes. Will seemed to enjoy the conversation. He told her about a song he was learning and asked how her lessons were going. It was nice, and Tig kind of forgot why she’d called him in the first place . . . until Olivia opened the door and mouthed, What? and waved her hands around.
Tig shooed her out and this time locked the door behind her.
“Will,” Tig said. “I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you like anyone at school?”
“I might,” Will replied. “I might even like someone at our lunch table.”
“Who?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
“Seriously?” Tig said. “That’s the best you could come up with?”
Will laughed. “That was pretty bad.”
Maybe she should take a different approach. “What do you think of Olivia?”
“Olivia?” Will asked. “Great tennis player, and I think she’s a nice girl. Everybody thinks so.”
“You think she’s nice?”
“Yeah. Sweet girl.”
Someone knocked at the bathroom door. “Cool,” Tig said. “I gotta go.” She h
ung up before Will could even say good-bye.
Tig threw open the door. “What?”
“I’m sorry!” Olivia said. “We couldn’t stand it any longer! What took you so long?”
“I didn’t want to seem obvious!”
“What did he say? Does he like me?”
Tig went back to the bed. Olivia followed. “He said you’re sweet.”
Olivia’s face lit up. “Sweet? He used the exact word sweet?” Tig nodded. “Oh, my gosh, y’all! Will Mason thinks I’m sweet!” Olivia squealed and hugged Kyra.
“What else did he say?” Kyra asked.
“That was pretty much it.”
“All that time on the phone and that’s what you got?” Robbie asked.
“Did you ask him if he likes her?” Claire said. “You know—likes her, likes her?”
“Not exactly,” Tig said.
“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?” said Olivia. “Did you ask him or not?”
“I was trying, but I didn’t get that far before you banged on the door!”
“Right,” Olivia said. “Shoot. I should’ve been more patient.” She pondered the news a moment. “Sweet is good, isn’t it?”
“Of course sweet is good,” Robbie said. “I mean, for you. Not for me, of course. I don’t do sweet.”
“Or adorable,” Claire reminded her.
“Precisely.”
Olivia’s demeanor suddenly changed. “No, no, no, no, no,” she said. “This isn’t good. Sweet isn’t good.”
“How can sweet not be good?” asked Kyra.
“Sweet is bland. Sweet is baby kittens or your grandmother. Sweet is not pretty. Oh, this is awful. It’s just like last year when all the guys signed my yearbook the same way.”
“What way?” asked Claire.
“Every guy in the sixth grade wrote the same thing in my yearbook: Olivia, you are the nicest girl in school. Good luck with tennis!”
“That’s so sweet!” Kyra said.
“Kyra,” Olivia said. “Don’t you realize that’s guy code for ‘You will die alone’? No one wants to date sweet. Guys want to date hot. Like Regan.”
“But Regan’s . . .” Tig was going to say something mean but stopped herself because of Claire. “Self-assured. Most guys we know wouldn’t even approach her.”
“They still all want to date her,” said Olivia.
That was true. What was it about guys that drew them to mean, stuck-up girls like Regan?
“Let’s face it,” said Olivia. “I’m doomed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Claire said. “You’re quite fetching, Olivia. You have beautiful hair and cute freckles. And there’s nothing wrong with being sweet. Nothing at all.”
“I guess so,” Olivia said.
“Hey, if Will doesn’t like you, someone else with better taste will,” Robbie said.
“I don’t want anyone else to like me,” Olivia said. “I just want Will.”
“Enough about Will,” Tig said. And really, she’d had enough. Since when was Will so important? He sat with them every single day at lunch, and she’d never thought a thing about him. She’d certainly never thought any of the other girls had. She’d have to process this information later, when she could be alone with her thoughts. “I believe it’s my turn! Kyra! Truth or dare?”
“You already know all my secrets,” Kyra said. “So how about a dare?”
After much deliberation—and suggestions from the other girls—Tig dared Kyra to eat a tablespoon of mayonnaise. Kyra absolutely hated mayo, so this was a big dare. It took about fifteen minutes for her to choke down only about a teaspoon, and the girls finally just called it even, not wanting Kyra to barf all over them.
After she rinsed the mayo taste out with a glass of sweet tea, it was Kyra’s turn. “If Claire’s going last, then I guess I’ll pick Robbie. Truth or dare?”
“Have we met?”
“What do you mean?” Kyra asked.
“It means,” Tig explained, “that Robbie always tells the truth about what she thinks—even when she maybe shouldn’t—so there’s no reason to ask for truth, and she’s fearless enough to do anything, so you might as well give her a dare.”
“You complete me, Ripley,” Robbie said. “Have I ever told you that?”
“All right, then,” Kyra said. “I dare you to . . . I don’t know. I can’t think of anything.”
“I can,” Tig said.
“What? What?” asked Kyra.
“She’ll kill me if I tell you.”
“What is it?” Olivia asked. “Is it a good one?”
“Oh, it’s a good one, all right.”
“What is it, Ripley?” Robbie said. “Come on. I can take it.”
Tig went to her closet and pulled out a printed dress with a lace collar.
“That’s the dress your mom bought you for that wedding last year,” Kyra said.
“What do you think of it, Claire?” Tig asked.
“It’s very, um . . .”
“Go ahead. You can say it,” said Tig.
“It’s horrible,” Claire said.
Tig replied, “Exactly.”
Kyra broke into a huge grin. “Oh, that is good!”
“What?” said Robbie. “What’s good? You’re not suggesting I wear that, are you?”
“Tig did say you were fearless,” said Olivia. “Are you that fearless?”
“Of course I am. Here, give it to me. I’ll put it on.”
“Not now,” Kyra said. “I dare you to wear it to school on Monday.”
Tig started laughing. “Kyra! You are evil! I was just going to say for right now!”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Kyra replied. “How about it, Chan? Are you really fearless?”
Robbie walked tentatively to the dress Tig held up. She stroked the brushed cotton and the lace collar, then looked defiantly at the girls. “I’d say this really brings out my purple streak.”
Robbie put the dress on top of her overnight bag so she wouldn’t forget to take it home with her the next day. “As if I could forget something that ugly,” she said. “Good thing I have no reputation to destroy. And good thing for Kyra and Tig that I have a remarkable sense of humor.”
“We’ve got one person left,” said Kyra. “But who gets to ask Claire? Robbie’s already done one—she did Olivia’s truth.”
“May I do the honors?” Tig asked.
“Sure,” said Claire. “Fire away.”
“Truth or dare?”
“Hmmm . . . dare I say dare?” Claire asked. “How many more hideous dresses do you have in that closet of yours?”
Tig smiled. “Robbie took the last one.”
“Lucky me,” Robbie said.
“Then dare,” Claire replied.
“This wasn’t how I’d planned to do this,” Tig said. “But since we’re in the mode, I’m going to go for it.”
Robbie, Kyra, and Olivia nodded.
“What are you up to?” Claire asked.
“Claire, that night at Pepe’s, we were totally blown away. You’re amazing. We invited you to sit with us at lunch and to hang with us tonight because we wanted to know if you were as amazing as your voice. We think you are. You’re smart and talented and nice and just all-around supercool.”
“Wow,” said Claire. “Thanks. What’s this all about?”
“I dare you,” Tig said, “to join our band as the lead singer.”
Claire let out a tiny gasp. “Really? But I don’t really have a pretty voice.”
“That’s right,” Robbie said. “Your voice isn’t pretty. It’s primal. Gritty. It’s rock ‘n’ roll, baby!”
“We love your voice,” Tig said.
“And we love you!” Olivia added. “Don’t we, girls?” Everyone nodded.
“Please say yes,” said Kyra. “It will be so much fun! And Robbie will cry if you say no.”
“She’s right,” Robbie said. “I will totally boohoo. Right here, right now. You don’t want that, do you?”
“Say yes!” Tig said. “It will be killer fun! All of us together, rocking out! It will kick so much butt, it’s not even funny! And we’ll help you with the stage fright. We’ll work on it with you. Claire, once you got going that night at Pepe’s, you owned that stage. You just have to practice. And believe in yourself. And we believe in you so much, you won’t be able not to believe in yourself.”
“Well, it might be fun,” Claire said. “How about we give it a try and just see how it goes?”
“Fair enough,” Tig said. “If you don’t like it, you can quit. No hard feelings. We’ll still be your friends.”
“Then I say yes,” Claire said.
Robbie put her arm around Claire’s shoulders and said, “Welcome to Pandora’s Box!”
Chapter Twenty-One
First practice was, of necessity, the following morning. It just made sense given that everyone was already there. And besides, Olivia had to leave for tennis before noon.
“Do you know the lyrics to ‘Sweet Home Alabama’?” Tig asked Claire once everyone was settled in the studio that morning.
Claire smiled. “How could I live in Alabama for nearly a full year and not know those lyrics?”
“Good point.”
Robbie strapped on her guitar, Tig climbed behind the drum set, Olivia adjusted all of her buttons, Kyra fixed her amp settings, and Claire positioned herself behind the mic. “Here goes nothing,” Claire said.
From the moment Robbie began the first riff, Tig could feel the magic in the air. Oh, not to say there weren’t a few slipups here and there; there were. But Claire growled out the lyrics from the first note to the last with ferocity. And without a touch of a British accent.
After the first run-through, the five girls stood staring at one another for a minute before anyone said anything.
“Wow,” Tig said.
“Was I okay?” Claire asked.
“Were you okay?” Tig repeated. “Were you okay? Um, yeah! If everything were as okay as you, we’d be on the cover of Rolling Stone next month!”
“You nailed it,” Robbie said.
“So did you, Chan,” Tig said.
“Thanks,” Robbie replied. “It’s just—I don’t know. It’s tough for one person to match Lynyrd Skynyrd’s three-guitar force.”