by Meg Haston
Zander nodded and adjusted the volume. “Roz. She’s a trip.” He ambled across the room to the kitchen. “You want something to drink?”
“Water would be good.” I dropped my bag on the leather couch in the living area, my voice bouncing off the exposed pipes that snaked in a maze around the ceiling. “How many photographth are in here?” By my count, each wall held at least one hundred.
“I know, right? Mom’s a photographer. Mostly for ad campaigns and stuff.” He jerked open the stainless-steel fridge door and pulled out two bottles of water. “Her passion’s people, so she shoots a lot of the fam.” He kicked the door shut with his heel. “Heads up.”
I caught the water bottle as it sailed toward me. “Thankth.”
He nodded. “We rehearse back here,” he said, leading me into a tangerine sponge-painted breakfast nook next to the kitchen. A drum set, two acoustic guitars, and a keyboard were set up behind a few microphone stands.
“Your mom and dad don’t care?”
“Nah. They’re at work. Plus we’re the only loft on the block. We can totally let loose and nobody cares.” Zander took a seat on a metal stool behind one of the mics and adjusted its height.
“Cool.” I picked up a drumstick and tapped a beat on my thigh.
“So. Straight up. How come you changed your mind about the band?” Zander caught my gaze and stared directly into my eyes. He had an annoying way of doing that, just like Paige.
Before I could inform him that staring was rude, the rest of the guys herded through the side door, backpacks slung over their shoulders. They dumped their gear next to the couch and headed straight for the fridge. I dropped the drumstick.
“I’m saying, though,” argued The Beat. He was holding a small, blinking camcorder, which he shoved in Kevin’s face. “It’s like you haven’t experienced music till you’ve heard the acoustic version. Disagree?”
I cracked open my water bottle and took a swig.
“Exactly,” chimed the keyboardist with the blond curls. Nelson. He tugged off his army-green cargo jacket and slung it on the ottoman in front of the couch. “That track, like, changed my world.”
Kevin shook his head. “No way. They sold out, man.” Even with a metal bar through his lip, he had no lisp. Unbelievable.
“You think everybody’s a sell-out, Cho,” laughed Zander, sliding off the stool.
“Yeah.” Kevin shrugged, then stopped to look directly into The Beat’s camera lens. “ ’Cause they are. You all are.”
“Dude.” The Beat dropped his camcorder on the kitchen counter. “How am I supposed to get any good publicity footage for the website if you keep badmouthing our fans?”
“It’s controversy, man,” Kevin argued. “Controversy sells.”
“Whatever.” The Beat ducked into the refrigerator and emerged with a plastic bottle of orange juice. Then he unscrewed the green plastic top and chugged straight from the bottle.
”Dude!” Zander exclaimed. “My mom drinks from that.”
“My baaaaaaaad,” The Beat belched.
“Dithguthting,” I muttered into my water bottle. Wait. Did that qualify as drama? I zipped my lips.
The guys turned to look at me in surprise. It was the longest anyone had ever taken to notice me, ever. Maybe I really was becoming invisible. I scratched the back of my neck, not knowing where to look.
“Oh. Hey.” Nelson pulled a box of granola from the pantry and stuffed his hand inside.
“Hey, guyth.” The plastic water battle crinkled beneath my grip.
“Cool accent,” Nelson said over a mouthful of cereal. “Where you from?” A dried cranberry shot out of his mouth and pegged Kevin in the cheek.
“Lincoln Park,” I said flatly.
Kevin wiped his cheek and lifted his hand in a semi-wave. “What up.”
The guys convened in the breakfast nook and took their places behind their instruments. I stayed pressed against the wall, unsure where to go. Unsure of my place.
“You ever sung lead vocals before?” The Beat asked.
Did the shower count? “I, uh, wath the lead in the play.” My glasses were starting to slip. I shoved them back into place.
“Oh, yeah. The musical.” Kevin didn’t even try to hide his disdain. He glanced meaningfully at Zander, who was fiddling with his mic stand. “The middle school musical.”
“Yeah?” I said defensively.
“Pretty mainstream.” When he bent over his bass, I swear I heard him mumble “Sellout.” I cut my eyes to Skinny Je—Zander, to see if he’d heard. How did that not qualify as drama? Or just plain mean?
“She’s really good,” Zander said quickly, tuning his guitar. “Awesome range.” He plucked the same string over and over, twisting the silver knobs at the top of the instrument until he seemed satisfied.
I swallowed, my cheeks burning. The ripped skinny jeans and fishnets were doing nothing for me, other than making my sweaty thighs itch like crazy.
“So we’re working on some original material for the album.” Zander strummed a few chords. “I just started this one. Not quite done yet. You sight read, yeah?”
What? I blinked as Zander thrust a few pages of sheet music into my hands.
“I wrote it in triple, but we’re slowing it down to four-four.”
“Uh, great.” Even my eyelashes were starting to sweat.
“Okay, so just jump in whenever.” He nodded his head toward the mic stand on his right. “You’re over here. By me.”
I took my place behind the mic, suddenly feeling faint. Too bad I was about to make him look terrible in front of his friends. He didn’t deserve that, even with his blue hair and girl jeans. I felt a stabbing pain in my stomach. I never should have swiped Paige’s cupcake.
The Beat counted off. “One, two, three, four.”
While the band rocked a guitar-heavy intro, I stared at the music in my grip. I may as well have been trying to read Japanese. Sure, we were supposed to learn the sheet music for Guys and Dolls. But downloading the soundtrack on iTunes was faster.
This world spins round and round
The sun goes up and down
They said this would get easier
But it keeps getting harder… somehow
I actually kind of liked the lyrics. They had feeling, without being sappy or dramatic.
“Whenever you’re ready, Mainstream,” The Beat said into his mic.
No drama. No drama. No drama. I cleared my throat, instead of pummeling him with my mic stand.
“This world spins round and round.” Stunned, I whipped away from the mic and stared at Zander.
“Told you,” he said without looking up. “You don’t have a lisp when you sing.”
“The sun goes up and down.” Sweaty shivers ran up and down my spine. Even without my lisp, this sucked. Standing in the middle of a group of guys I didn’t know, staring at music I didn’t understand. Every note bringing a brand-new chance for me to humiliate myself.
But nobody was laughing, or making snotty comments into the mic. The band just kept playing. Was it possible that…
… I didn’t suck?
I leaned a little closer to the mic, feeling the vibrations in the music buzz from my hands through the rest of my body. “They said this would get easier.” My voice was getting stronger, bolder. “But it keeps getting HAAA—”
Without warning, my voice cracked like a sixth-grade boy’s. Horrified, I slapped my hand over my mouth. Pain reverberated through my gums.
“Hold up,” Zander instructed, shaking his head. “Let’s take it back.”
The band trailed off, and Kevin let out an exasperated sigh.
“Thorry.” I stared at the floor, seized with the urge to take my glasses off. To make everything in my world blurred around the edges again.
“No problem,” Zander assured me. “But maybe you can try it a little more from the diaphragm this time?”
“Thure,” I mumbled, my cheeks burning. Why had I ever thought I could do this?
I belonged onstage, or on the air. Not here. I was an imposter. A poseur.
The Beat counted down again.
“Here we go,” called Zander over the opening chords. “You got this.”
I stepped toward the mic. “This world spins round and round. The sun goes up and down.” I closed my eyes and visualized a dark stage with velvet curtains. Opening night. Kacey Simon, unplugged, in front of a spellbound audience. “They said it would get easier…”
“DO IT, MAINSTREAM!” yelled Nelson.
This was it. My last chance. No holding back.
“But it keeps getting HAAAARDER, SOOOMEHOW!” I belted. My voice echoed throughout the loft, clear and strong.
“Yeeeaaaah!” Zander cheered. “ROCK! ON!”
I gripped the mic, fresh energy pulsing through my body in time to the beat. It felt like my sixth sense, only amplified. As I sang, everything but the lyrics started to melt away. Molly’s snide comments, my plummeting approval rating, the recast: For just a few minutes, nothing mattered. Nothing but the music.
THREE’S COMPANY, SIX IS A CROWD
Tuesday, 12:06 P.M.
I rode my hard rock high all the way into lunch period the next day.
“And after we were done, we tried out a few trackth from the Bob Dylan album I borrowed,” I told Paige. “No lithp there, either. Can you believe it?” I cracked open my açai berry smoothie and surveyed The Square from my new lunch spot: an ivy-infested iron loveseat shoved in the corner between Silverstein and Hemingway.
The Square was starting to fill, but the old stone bench I used to share with the girls was deserted. Directly diagonal from our corner, Quinn, Jake, and Aaron were lounging next to the sixth graders’ dead Earth Day garden, playing paper football.
“Sounds fun.” Paige bent over with her head between her knees, digging for something in her backpack. “Wait ’til you see this.” Her voice was muffled.
“Mm-hmm,” I said absently, momentarily hypnotized by the way the sunlight seemed to pour through the greenhouse ceiling and land in a perfect halo around Quinn’s head. He leaned against the brick wall and flicked a field goal, laughing at something Jake had just said. His teeth were so white, I had to close my eyes for a second. I fantasized that Quinn hadn’t laughed at the YouTube spoof the week before. I imagined that instead, he’d told off the entire class and we’d stormed out together, then headed to Sugar Daddy for our first official date.
Paige snapped her fingers in front of my nose. “It took a little bargaining with the features editor, but…” She produced a folded newspaper and rattled it excitedly.
“Wait.” It took a few seconds of staring into Paige’s giant, unblinking eyes to jog my memory, but our conversation at Sugar Daddy finally came flooding back. “We made the front page?” I lunged for the Gazette, but Paige leapt up, holding it just out of my reach. “I can’t believe you waited to tell me!”
“I can’t believe you forgot to ask!” Paige laughed, making the paper dance just inches from my glasses.
Well, I wasn’t completely sure you were gonna be able to pull it off. I managed to swallow the words.
Paige cleared her throat. “Marquette’s Broadcast Queen Down with Gravity.”
“No way!” I stashed my smoothie under the bench and commandeered the paper before she could stop me.
“Read the part about how you overcame hardship!” Paige screeched. “That’s my favorite line.”
“Hey! It’s Gravity’s newest supah-stahhh!” I glanced up from my promo to see Zander slinking across the courtyard. He was wearing slouchy brown cargos, a thin waffled orange hoodie, and a T-shirt with icons of a baby chick and a horseshoe magnet on it.
I waved, then went back to the piece.
“What’s going on?” When Zander raised his palm, his leather cuff bracelet peeked out from beneath his henley.
“Hey. I’m Paige.” Paige gave him a high five.
“Yeah. I’m voting for you.” He grinned. “Zander.”
But Paige had already refocused on the promo. “Let me read it. Nobody can understand you with that lisp, anyway.” She snatched the paper and smoothed it against her thigh. “It says… ‘Although public humiliation has been haunting the journalist since she lost her looks to braces and glasses last week, she’s not crawling under a rock and dying, like this reporter would do. Instead, she’s working to overcome her hardships, taking a brief hiatus from the stage and the airwaves to conquer an entirely new industry: rock music.’ ”
“Sweet!” Zander punched my shoulder, making my glasses bump down my nose.
“Keep going!” I squealed.
“Simon confirmed to the Gazette: ‘I’m joining forces with Marquette’s newest musical powerhouse, the band Gravity. I’m way pumped about this new phase of seventh.’ ” Paige surfaced and took a huge breath. “No. Wait. This is my favorite part. ‘And I was happy to ask my friend Molly Knight to take my part in Guys and Dolls. Even understudies deserve a chance.’ ”
I snorted. “Nithe TOUCH, Paige!”
“Here at the Gazette, we suspect Miss Simon might just be making a COMEBACK. And THIS reporter—” Paige’s eyes fluttered shut and she recited the rest from memory. “Wants front. Row. Seats.”
“Ahhhhhhhh!” I ignored the saliva sprinkler spritzing from my mouth and threw my arms around Paige’s lanky frame. “No way!”
“Nice work.” Zander nodded his approval.
“Wait.” I pulled away. “How’d you get the reporter to print it? I hadn’t made the band by then.”
Paige folded the paper gingerly and slipped it back into her portfolio case. “So Zander,” she said brightly. “She was really good last night, huh?”
“Yeah, she was,” Zander took a swig of his lemon Honest Tea. “Awesome. The rest of the guys thought so, too.” He lifted his palm to shade his face and smiled at me.
“Thankth.” Back to the point. “Paige. Come on.” I whacked her pilled black sweater.
“Ow! Fine.” She patted her bangs self-consciously. “It’s possible… that I swore to double the paper’s budget when I get reelected.”
“Paige!” I snorted, impressed. “You can’t do that! Hello, corruption?”
“What if you don’t get reelected?” Zander squinted, looking genuinely concerned. “I mean, you probably will. You did great in that debate on Channel M last month. But—”
“Oh. I’ll get reelected.” Paige shot me a meaningful look, then winked. “Quid pro quo, beh-beh.”
I burst out laughing, reaching under the bench for my smoothie. Instead, I found my messenger bag. “Oh! I wanted to give you thith.” I pulled out the album I’d tucked in my bag and flung it at Zander like a Frisbee.
He caught it. “Elton John. ‘Rock and Roll Madonna.’ ” He inspected the worn sleeve. “This is killer! Where’d you get it?”
“Home. It wa… well, my dad had it.” I chewed at the inside of my cheek.
Paige pressed her lips together.
“Awesome. Thanks. I’ll take a listen tonight.” Zander tucked it carefully under his hoodie. “Which reminds me. We’re doing rehearsal a little later today. I’m taking you someplace after school.”
“Where?”
“You’ll like it,” he promised evasively. “And it’s a surprise.”
“Ooh. Tell me!” Paige begged. “I love surprises. As long as they don’t happen tomorrow night. We’re working on my campaign speech.” She glanced at me for confirmation. “Right?”
I nodded.
“Okay.” She bent over in her seat. Zander cupped his hand around his mouth and bent to whisper something in her ear.
“Heyyy, Kayth—uhh, Kacey.”
I looked up in surprise to see Jake Fields standing over me and holding a plastic Gatorade bottle. Aaron and Quinn were right behind him. “How’s it going?” He bit his lip, looking down at the ground. His hunched shoulders were shaking slightly. It reminded me of Molly’s posture during the mock trial.
“Hey,” I said tersely.
>
Next to me, Paige tensed.
“We were just headed to the auditorium.” Aaron nodded, stealing a quick glance at Quinn. “Sean called a quick cast meeting. You coming?”
“I quit the play, duh.” I looked over at Quinn, who was studiously avoiding my gaze. An uneasy feeling sloshed in the pit of my stomach. I told myself it was just the açai berry.
“Oh. I forgot!” Aaron smacked his forehead.
“Guys.” Zander stood, his eyes turning to steel. “We’re kind of in the middle of something, so—”
“Hey. Easy, dude.” Jake lifted his hands in surrender. “We’re just trying to help out.”
“Come on,” I said tightly to Zander and Paige. “Let’th get out of here.” I stood.
But Jake blocked my way. “Hold up. Thought you could use this.” He extended the Gatorade bottle in my direction. “Seems like you’re losing a lot of fluid with… all that spitting.”
“Ohhhhhh!” Jake punched Aaron and Quinn in the shoulders, and Quinn finally looked up. And cracked a smile, which turned into a slow, easy laugh. His light blue eyes seemed to illuminate and his cheeks lifted. Like…
… like I was nothing more than a punch line to him. Standing at the edge of the packed Square, I’d never felt so alone.
Zander and Paige jumped up.
“Come on, Kacey,” Paige said quietly. She gripped my arm and squeezed. “Let’s go.”
“Yeah.” Zander rolled his eyes. “These guys aren’t worth it.”
I glanced up at Zander and Paige’s determined faces, and just like that, something inside me snapped. I wasn’t alone. I had Zander and Paige, and they had my back. My embarrassment melted into anger as the guys nudged one another and laughed. Quinn was such a coward. He couldn’t even look at me while he was dissing me.
“Hey, Quinn,” I said, my voice surprisingly confident. “Could you alert Dumb and Dumber here that they’re about a week too late on the lithp joke? It aired on YouTube, if they didn’t catch it.”
“Whatever, Simon.” Jake chuckled uneasily.
“Oh. And while we’re on the topic of YouTube, I’ve been meaning to mention.” I amped up my volume, snagging the attention of a curious group of girls just a few feet away. “I wath in the Channel M tape room the other day? And I found really great uncut footage of the three of you in the auditorium, getting ready for rehearthal. Makeup, and everything.”