by Ginger Rue
Winner of the Tig Ripley: Rock ’n’ Roll Art Contest
Original graphic art provided by Emilie Gray, Duncanville Middle School.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2017 Ginger Rue
Cover illustration by Amanda Haley
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews and articles. All inquiries should be addressed to:
Sleeping Bear Press™
2395 South Huron Parkway, Suite 200, Ann Arbor, MI 48104
www.sleepingbearpress.com
© Sleeping Bear Press
Printed and bound in the United States.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Rue, Ginger, author.
Title: Hard rock / written by Ginger Rue.
Description: Ann Arbor, MI : Sleeping Bear Press, [2017]
Series: Tig Ripley; book 2 | Summary: “After starting an all-girl rock band with her middle-school friends, thirteen-year-old Tig Ripley struggles to maintain control as leader amid band member crises and boy trouble”-- Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016026742
ISBN 9781585369478 (hard cover)
ISBN 9781585369485 (paper back)
Subjects: | CYAC: Rock groups--Fiction. | Interpersonal relations--Fiction.
Leadership--Fiction. | Popularity--Fiction. | Middle schools--Fiction. | Schools--Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.R88512 Har 2017 | DDC [Fic]--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016026742
For Bryan and Carolyn—Long live the Weathers Mafia
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
About the Author
Chapter One
“I can’t believe your mom made you wear a dress,” Robbie said to Tig.
“I know,” Tig replied. “But she kept saying, ‘It’s not every day my daughter is on TV. You should dress for the occasion.’”
“But the occasion is that we’re rock stars!” Robbie said. “That’s why we’re on TV.”
“We’re on TV because my uncle’s advertising students won nationals with our fake commercial,” Tig said. “I wouldn’t exactly call us rock stars yet.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Robbie. She grinned, and Tig couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m pretty sure you were born a rock star,” Tig said.
Robbie nodded and smiled. “Got that right!” She high-fived Tig.
“Be quiet, y’all,” Kyra said. “Did you not just hear the guy say, ‘Quiet on the set’?”
“Mom? Is that you?” Robbie said. “You look so different these days.”
Kyra scowled and sat up straight. When the man counted down three, two, one and pointed, the show’s host said, “Good morning, Tuscaloosa! I’m Carolyn Kirk, your host, coming to you live from the College of Communication at the University of Alabama. Thanks, as always, for waking up with us today. This morning we have some very special guests with us: Paul Ripley, Professor of Advertising here at UA, and his students from this year’s Ad Comp team. The team is just coming off their latest national victory. Professor Ripley, can you tell us a little bit about what the competition entails?”
As Tig’s uncle Paul and his students explained how they’d first won regionals at the end of the last school year, followed by taking nationals barely a week ago, Tig, Robbie, Kyra, Olivia, and Claire stood to the side, off-camera, waiting to be called over.
“They’re calling us up after the clip,” Tig said. “Get ready.”
After the short clip of the fake commercial with Tig’s band playing a seventies punk song to sell ugly, high-waisted pants—a product that had been invented entirely to make the advertising students’ job difficult—Carolyn Kirk said, “Wow! That is some commercial! And I understand that these young rock stars are here with us today?”
“They certainly are,” Tig’s uncle said. “May I introduce you and your viewers to the girls of Pandora’s Box?”
“Go!” The man who had counted down a few minutes before now whisper-shouted to Tig and the other girls.
The lights were so bright, Tig couldn’t help but squint. The advertising students had given up their seats for the band and gone off-camera. Tig and her friends sat down in the chairs next to her uncle Paul.
Carolyn Kirk introduced the girls by name, along with which instrument each one played. They waved and smiled when their names were called.
“So, tell me, ladies,” said Carolyn Kirk, “how does it feel to be famous?” She looked directly at Tig.
“I wouldn’t exactly call us famous—” Tig said.
“Yet,” Robbie interjected.
Carolyn Kirk laughed. “I see you have some ambition here, huh? That’s great.”
It sounded so condescending that Tig immediately felt embarrassed, but Robbie didn’t seem to feel that way at all. Instead she held her two middle fingers down with her thumb and sort of fist-pumped.
“All right, then,” said Carolyn Kirk. “What’s next for Pandora’s Box?”
“The sky’s the limit!” said Kyra, smiling right at the camera.
Olivia and Claire never said a word. They seemed nervous.
“How exciting!” said Carolyn Kirk. “I’m sure I speak for all our viewers in the Tuscaloosa area when I say we wish you the best of luck and look forward to hearing more from Pandora’s Box in the very near future!”
Cheesy music began playing, and Carolyn Kirk said, “Coming up next, we’ll teach you how to take your grandma’s lasagna recipe to the next oh-so-delicious and cost-effective level! Don’t go away! We’ll be right back!”
“Thanks, Professor Ripley. Thanks, girls,” Carolyn Kirk said as the countdown guy whisked them off the set. The entire interview had lasted all of about three minutes total.
“We’ll be fine,” Tig said. She hugged her uncle good-bye, and the girls went outside to wait for Tig’s mom.
“‘The sky’s the limit’?” Tig said to Kyra. “What was that all about?”
“It’s called media training,” Kyra said. “My mom taught me everything she knew from being in the Miss Alabama pageant. Did I ever tell y’all she was third runner-up?”
“Yes,” Robbie said. “I believe you’ve mentioned it about eighty-seven times.”
“Well,” Kyra said, “she showed me how to look poised on camera, and she said you’re always supposed to say something energetic and fun. The judges love that.”
“There were no judges, Kyra,” Tig said. “We weren’t in a pageant.”
“At least I didn’t mumble and squint the whole time,” Kyra replied.
“Can we go get ice cream?” Olivia asked. “Text your mom and ask if we can meet her at that little place on the Strip. We could walk over there in less than five minutes.”
“Olivia’s hungry,” Robbie said. “What a shock.” The girls were always joking about Olivia’s insatiable appetite and her twiggy frame.
“Two words,” Olivia said. “Waffle. Cone. What are we waiting for?”
The girls agreed, so Tig texted her mom to pick them up at the ice cream shop.
Robbie and Tig hung back while Olivia, Claire, and Kyra walked a few feet ahead.
“‘The sky’s the limit’?” Robbie asked. “Your cousin does realize that she can play all of two songs on the bass, right? And even those not very well?”
“Don’t look at me,” Tig said. “I never know what’s going to come out of Kyra’s mouth.”
“Who knows? Maybe this will inspire her to practice more,” Robbie said. “I can hardly wait to get back to the studio and start practicing. Maybe Kyra put in some time on the bass this week. Maybe she’s about to blow us all away.”
“Maybe,” said Tig. But she very much doubted it.
Chapter Two
After ice cream, the girls piled into Mrs. Ripley’s minivan and rode to Tig’s house. They changed clothes—Tig couldn’t wait to get out of that dress and back into her usual jeans and a tee—and went to the studio, which was really just a small building on Tig’s family’s property.
“Ooh, I have something for y’all!” Kyra said. She opened her backpack and took out five file folders. Each was a different color with a different pattern. She handed one to each girl. “I took the liberty of making everyone a band folder,” she said. “Inside you’ll find a calendar for the rest of the year, with each practice date in aquamarine type, and monthly band sleepovers at Tig’s in marigold yellow. Also, you’ll find a current set list in coral.”
“Pretty!” Olivia said.
“Look, she even used a label maker for the folder tab!” Claire added. The labels said PANDORA’S BOX.
“You sure went to a lot of trouble,” Robbie said.
“I wanted them to look nice,” Kyra said.
“Thanks, Kyra,” said Tig. Everyone else did the same. “Now, let’s get to practicing, shall we?”
They were only a minute into the song before it fell apart. “Hold up,” Robbie said. “I’m sorry, but, Kyra, you’re killing me. You’re in the wrong key again.”
“No, I’m not,” said Kyra.
“Yes, you are,” Tig said.
“Should the rest of us just change the key?” Olivia asked. “Maybe that would be easier.”
“I don’t think I can sing it in that key,” said Claire. “Sorry, Kyra.”
“I don’t know what y’all are complaining about,” Kyra replied. “I am so not in the wrong key!”
Robbie put down her guitar and went over to work with Kyra on the bass. Meanwhile, Tig set down her drumsticks, and Olivia took her hands off the keyboard. Olivia, Claire, and Tig looked at one another. They were all having the same thought: What are we going to do with Kyra?
“Okay, let’s try it again,” Robbie said, putting her guitar strap back on her shoulder.
The girls ran through the song again. This time Kyra played in the correct key. But she started acting really weird, popping and slapping the bass during the chorus. “Kyra, what was that?” Tig asked.
“Isn’t it cool?” she said. “My dad was watching an Earth, Wind & Fire concert on TV, and I saw their bass player do this stuff, and I wanted to try it.”
“You do realize that we are playing music in a genre that doesn’t even remotely resemble funk, don’t you?” Robbie asked.
“So?”
Robbie sighed. “So, in other news . . .,” Robbie began. Tig was glad she’d changed the subject. Every time the band practiced, Tig feared that Robbie would finally let loose on Kyra about her lackluster bass playing. “What about my request to add a rhythm guitarist?” Ever since they’d made the fake commercial a few months before, Robbie had been lobbying to add another girl to the band. She had a point. Much of the band’s success relied on her, since she was the best musician they had—well, unless you considered Claire’s kick-butt voice an instrument, which Tig totally did.
Tig kind of suspected that one of the reasons Robbie wanted to add a rhythm guitarist was so she could have the luxury of showing off a little bit as lead guitarist. Tig couldn’t really blame her: if she had been Robbie Chan, she probably would’ve wanted to show off at least a little bit too.
“I’m not opposed to the idea,” Tig said. “But where are we going to find one?”
“Yeah, it was tough enough just to get y’all,” Kyra said.
“And we all agreed . . . no boys allowed,” said Olivia.
“Yeah, Chan,” Tig said. “There’s kind of a limited number of girl musicians in Tuscaloosa.”
“In Tuscaloosa County, yes,” Robbie said. “But I’ve got this friend from camp. She’s from Pickens County, and she’s supercool. Name’s Paris Nichols. Pickens isn’t so far that it couldn’t work. And she’d be down if we asked; I’m sure of it.”
“And she plays guitar?” Olivia asked.
“Well,” Robbie said, “she took lessons in third and fourth grade, but she didn’t really stick with it. But since she has some background, I’m sure I could teach her. Paris’s really smart and she could learn fast.”
Tig wasn’t so sure about this. It would’ve been one thing to bring in a guitarist who could already play. But to bring in someone who was practically a novice and who’d have to come all the way from Pickens County every single time? That was a half hour outside of town.
“Just meet her,” Robbie said. “She’s so awesome. You’ll love her.”
Tig was a little surprised that Robbie was so impressed with a girl from the country. As far as Tig knew, a lot of people out in Pickens County had actual farms, with actual livestock and stuff. Robbie, whose folks had moved her here from New York, was so cosmopolitan. It struck Tig as odd that Robbie was so taken with this Paris character.
“Okay,” Tig said. “Bring her to our next practice. Does she have a guitar?”
“Does she have a guitar?” Robbie laughed, then got serious. “That’s actually a good question. I’ll tell her to get one if she doesn’t.”
Great, Tig thought.
Soon the girls packed up their instruments, and the mom vans/SUVs began arriving for pickup. “Whose car is that?” Olivia asked.
The girls looked outside to see Kyra’s dad’s red Alfa Romeo, the vintage sports car he’d bought a few months ago but rarely drove.
“Uncle Nick busted out the spy mobile?” Tig asked. She’d always thought it looked like a car from one of those sixties movies with the British secret agents.
“Yeah, Mom’s had a lot going on lately,” Kyra said. “She has this friend out of town who’s been really sick, so she’s been gone a lot. Mom’s never liked the car, so Dad uses it whene
ver she’s away.”
Tig walked to the door with Kyra and waved to Uncle Nick. He waved back but didn’t make any effort to get out of the car and chat. Tig found this a bit odd, since Uncle Nick was usually so personable.
Robbie was the last one to leave. “Ripley,” Robbie said, “I don’t want to cause a family rift for you, but seriously.”
“I know,” Tig replied. “Kyra stinks. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t just boot my cousin out of the band.”
“Do you think she really even likes playing in the band?” Robbie asked. “I mean, she doesn’t seem to enjoy it at all, and she’s always complaining.”
“Oh, trust me, I know,” Tig said. Whenever Tig had to scold Kyra about not practicing, she’d launch into a whine that would completely wear Tig out.
“So, if she doesn’t like being a musician, why is she doing it?”
“You know why,” Tig said. “‘The sky’s the limit!’ Kyra doesn’t want to be a musician. She wants to be a celebrity.”
Ever since the fake commercial, Pandora’s Box had become B-list local celebrities of a sort. They weren’t exactly up there with the UA football coach, but their picture had been in the paper, and with that day’s local news show appearance, popularity-wise, they were gaining on the old guy who did the commercials for the local Chevrolet dealership.
“Well,” Robbie said. “If she’d put half as much effort into practicing her instrument as she does making cutesy little folders, she might improve. I just don’t know how much longer we can keep up this charade of her being our bass player. She’s either got to get with it or get gone.”
“You’re right,” Tig said. Of course Robbie was right. But that didn’t make it any easier. “I’ll talk to her one more time about getting serious about her instrument.”
“Good luck,” Robbie said.
“Thanks,” Tig said. And, boy, was she going to need it.
Chapter Three
Tig went back into the studio and played a little more before she went to her room. Even though she practiced every day and loved trying to pick out new beats from songs she liked, she probably played a little longer than usual so she could delay calling Kyra.
“What’s up?” Kyra said when she answered.