Rock 'n' Roll Rebel (5 page)

Chapter Ten

I
n news that shocked no one but Kyra, the Bots did not sit with them Monday at lunch. Or Tuesday. Or ever. This suited Tig just fine but confused Kyra, who'd thought she'd done so well at Saturday's run.

The band's first practice was set for Tuesday after school. Tig had told the other girls to work on “Sweet Home Alabama.”

They met at the green house at four p.m. Haley was the last to arrive. Her mother didn't so much as wave as she pulled away; she was too busy scrunching her face into a look of disdain as she turned around on the gravel driveway. “I have to be done by the time my mom's manicure is over,” Haley said.

Robbie shot a look at Tig. Kyra said, “I'm sure that will be plenty of time. Ooh, I love your blush!” Kyra herded Haley into the house.

“I've got a bad feeling about this,” Robbie said to Tig and Olivia.

“That makes two of us,” Tig replied.

Once everything was set up—amps plugged in, Haley's microphone hot, all that stuff—Tig suggested a run-through first on the instruments, no vocals. Haley protested until she could see that Tig wouldn't give in to her.

“Whatevs,” Haley finally said.

Tig counted off on her sticks, and Robbie began playing the guitar intro. As soon as Tig and Kyra joined in, it occurred to Tig that the two of them should probably have practiced together before everyone else showed up. They had to start over a few times to get the beat right, playing at an embarrassingly slow count for an embarrassingly long time. Tig found that her coordination was shot with that many people watching and waiting on her. Eventually she got it right, but not without saying, “Wait, let me try that again,” about fifty times.

Robbie and Olivia were both good. Tig felt embarrassed that she and Kyra were so obviously light-years behind them in skill level.

“I'm sorry, y'all,” Tig said. “Kyra and I are pretty green.”

“Everybody's green at first,” Robbie said. “It's all good. We'll get there.”

“Can I sing now?” Haley asked with obvious frustration.

“Yeah, sure,” Tig replied. “Let's take it from the top, this time with vocals.”

They somehow managed to start the song at almost the right rhythm, and Haley began singing the first verse.

Tig looked at Robbie, then at Olivia. They were both grimacing. Tig looked next at Kyra, who smiled and shrugged. It wasn't just that Haley was off-key much of the time. It was that everything about her singing was wrong.

Tig waited until the end of the song. “So, Haley . . . ,” she began.

“You're welcome,” Haley said.

Tig fake laughed to be polite. “Yeah, that was . . . You really, um . . . enunciated.”

“That's what they teach you to do in professional singing classes,” Haley said. “Crisp diction. And, of course, volume, so that the back of the theater can hear you.”

“Or, you know, you could kind of let the microphone help with that,” Robbie said.

“Yeah, maybe Robbie's got a point. You might want to take it down a notch on the volume, and since this is sort of a Southern anthem, maybe loosen up the diction a little bit. Give it some flavor, know what I mean?”

Haley scrunched up her face. “You want me to sing badly to match your drumming?”

Before Tig could launch into Haley, Kyra interrupted. “Ha, ha, ha! Good one, Haley! Oh, don't you
love this girl-band banter?”

“Let's take it from the top again,” Haley suggested.

“Yes, let's do that,” Tig agreed, neglecting to add,
Even though it's my band, and I'm the one who says when we take it from the top. But whatever
.

They ran through the song three more times, each time with the same result as the first, before Haley's mom drove up. “Later,” Haley said. “And maybe you could practice on your own before next week. You know, to try not to stink quite so much.”

Kyra waved as Haley jumped into the car and it pulled away. Robbie, Olivia, and Tig just stared in a sort of daze. Had Haley really just said that? And had practice really been as bad as they thought?

Robbie broke the silence. “You do realize you're going to have to do something about that?”

“Yeah,” Tig said. “Definitely.”

Chapter Eleven

B
y the next practice, Tig and Kyra were better on their instruments. Kyra had spent the weekend at Tig's, and they'd practiced together nonstop. Tig was becoming enough of a musician to realize that the bass and the drums walked hand in hand, and that together they were the foundation of the band's sound. A little scary considering that they were the two least experienced members of the group, but Robbie's guitar and Olivia's keyboard were held up by what Tig and Kyra put down.

Each musician was improving separately, which made the band sound a little better together.

Except for Haley. And not just in the area of musicianship. Haley was becoming harder to take every time Tig was around her.

“What's the name of this band?” Haley demanded at the third practice.

“Good question,” Tig said. It was something she'd wanted to address with the girls; she just hadn't planned on doing it on Haley's timetable. Still, she tried to be diplomatic: no sense in becoming a Bot target if she could avoid it. “Does anyone have any suggestions?”

“I've got one,” Robbie said. “How about Blood Lust?”

“Ewww,” Olivia said.

“Ewww what?” Robbie asked. “The blood or the lust?”

“Both,” Olivia said. “I'm squeamish. And my mom would
freak
if I told her I was in a band with
lust
in the name. She does
not
approve of lust.”

“Okay,” Robbie said. “You got a better idea, then?”

“I was thinking, something cute and fun,” Olivia said. “How about the Kittens?”

Robbie laughed. “Did you run that one past your mom?”

“No. Why?”

“The term
kitten
is a provocative way to describe females,” Robbie explained. “I doubt your mom would like it. And I'd be right there with her. I refuse to be part of anything that objectifies women and girls.”

“Ewww,” Olivia repeated. “I didn't know. So, that's definitely out. Anybody got something better?”

“What about something concepty . . . simple . . . like, the Five?” Kyra said.

“Two words,” Haley said.
“Bore. Ring.”

Although Tig kind of agreed with Haley, she didn't like the way she'd dismissed Kyra so rudely. “And what do you suggest, Haley?” she asked.

“Call it what it is: Haley and the Other Girls,” Haley said.

“You're not serious,” Robbie replied.

“Of course I'm serious,” said Haley.

“Why stop there?” Tig said. “Why not just call our band Haley and the Sycophants?”

Robbie laughed. “While I actually find that ironic and attention-getting, and I do love the way the word
sycophant
rolls off the tongue, I will agree to that when it snows in Alabama in August.”

“What's a sycophant?” Haley asked.

“Forget it,” Tig said. She looked down at her mythology book sitting on top of her backpack in the corner. Another decision Tig needed to make was which myth from English class to write her essay about. Now she was ready to make two decisions at once. “I've got it,” she said. “How about Pandora's Box?”

“I like it,” Robbie said. “Cool. Dangerous. So cool it makes me wonder why I've never heard of a band using it before. Did you do an Internet search?”

“Not yet,” Tig said. She grabbed her phone and typed in the search terms. “It says there was a female band in the '80s who called themselves Pandora's Box, but they only had one album and it didn't get much attention.”

“Never heard of them,” said Robbie. Neither had anyone else.

“I'll ask an expert.” Tig texted both her parents, who replied almost immediately. “My mom and my dad both say it doesn't ring a bell, and those two know '80s music like nobody's business. If they don't know who they are, probably no one else does, either.”

Robbie, Kyra, and Olivia also texted their parents, who also had never heard of the band.

“Just so long as we're not derivative,” Robbie said. “I say we snag it!”

“Pandora's Box? What does it mean?” Haley asked.

“You know, the myth,” Tig said. “It's this box full of all the trouble in the world, and they aren't supposed to open it, but when they do, whammo!”

“That's stupid,” Haley said. “Just close the box. Problem solved.”

Tig and Robbie looked at each other and shook their heads.

“I like it,” Olivia said. “What about you, Kyra?”

Kyra looked at Haley. Tig could tell she didn't want to cross her. “I guess we should pick something we all like,” Kyra said.

“Simple question,” Robbie said. “Do you, Kyra, like the name Pandora's Box?”

“I mean,” Kyra said, “I do, but—”

“Then it looks like it's four to one,” Robbie said. “Don't you just love democracy?”

“But I don't like that name,” Haley said.

“Maybe we should just get back to practicing,” Tig said. “We can all let the name sink in for a little while. You might like it better after you sleep on it.”

“No, I won't,” Haley said. But Tig just counted off for the next run-through of “Sweet Home Alabama” to end the conversation, and everyone started playing.

In the middle of the song, though, Haley stopped singing and barked out an order. “Write this down,” she said to Tig.

“Excuse me?” Tig replied.

“Hurry . . . grab some paper before I lose my train of thought.”

“What are you—” But before Tig could finish, Haley interrupted again.

“Paper!” She actually snapped her fingers.

Tig was too taken aback to know exactly how to respond, but Kyra quickly pulled a notebook from her backpack. “I've got it,” Kyra said. “Go ahead.”

“Octave change after the bridge, and slow it down on the chorus.”

As Kyra wrote, Tig said, “No. Absolutely not.”

“I beg your pardon?” Haley said.

“No octave change. No slowing down the chorus.”

“But that's the way I want to sing it,” Haley said.

“But that's not the way we want to play it,” Tig replied. She looked at the rest of the band. “Am I right?”

Olivia and Kyra looked like frightened deer and said nothing.

“You're right,” Robbie said.

“Last time I checked, I'm the lead singer,” Haley said.

“Last time I checked, this was Tig's band,” Robbie shot back.

“Says who?” Haley asked.

“Says all of us,” Robbie said. “Or in case you hadn't noticed, this is Tig's rehearsal space, and the band was her idea.”

“Look, it doesn't really matter who's the leader and who's the singer,” Tig added, thinking,
Of course it matters
. But being brought up in the Deep South, Tig had been trained to believe that good manners were the only thing that kept society from complete collapse. Manners, Tig had been taught, were the grease that turned the wheels of the social machine, and they were the duty of every Southern girl. Her mother had taught her that being nice, even when she didn't feel like it, wasn't being fake, as Tig had supposed; instead it was being “gracious.” Tig wanted to be gracious and lovely like her mother and grandmothers, but she wondered how they managed it when people like Haley were so downright awful. “The point is what makes the song work best for our group,” Tig continued. “And slowing down the chorus makes it drag too much. Remember, this is a crowd favorite. They're going to want to hear it played the way they know it.”

“That's only because they haven't heard me sing it better,” Haley said.

“Are you actually suggesting that you sing this better than—” Robbie was cut off by a horn honking outside.

Kyra looked out the window and said, “That's your mom, Haley.”

“Good,” Haley replied. “You'll have time to think about it when I'm gone. And I suggest you think about it long and hard. I'm the only thing this pathetic excuse for a band has going for it.”

Kyra actually said, “Bye, Haley!” as Haley stormed out of the studio. Well, it was the same old concrete house, but the girls had taken to referring to it as “the studio.”

“She's got to go,” Robbie said.

“She is pretty horrible,” Olivia added.

“Tig, no!” Kyra said. “Give her a chance!”

“For Pete's sake, Kyra, we've given her a chance!
More than one!” said Tig. “Even Olivia thinks she's horrible, and Olivia's nicer than . . . than Winnie-the-Pooh!”

Everyone cracked up. “Winnie-the-Pooh,” Robbie repeated. “Nice.”

“I'm spent,” Olivia said. “I can't think about this anymore today. I've got to work on my mythology essay for English.”

“Me too,” said Robbie.

“Look,” said Tig, “what's say we get together this weekend and have some downtime as a band? A band retreat, if you will. Slumber party at my house Friday night? Complete with stupid movies and lots of snacks. What do y'all say?”

“I'm in,” said Robbie. Olivia and Kyra said they were too, if it was okay with their moms, but Olivia would have to leave early Saturday to make a tennis lesson.

“I'll invite Haley tomorrow,” Kyra volunteered.

“Who said anything about Haley?” Robbie said.

“Well, she's in the band,” said Kyra. “I can invite her, can't I, Tig?”

Tig sighed. She was tired of fighting and didn't want to get into it with Kyra at the moment. “I suppose so.” She suspected—and hoped—that Haley would refuse the invitation.

“I just remembered I've got a home improvement project this weekend,” Robbie said.

“Oh, no, you don't,” Tig said. “We're in this together. Hey, thanks for having my back—you know, with the chorus and octave thing.”

“No problem.”

“Band party at Tig's Friday night,” Olivia said as she typed a note into her phone. “It might be fun.”

Tig knew what Olivia was thinking.
It might be fun . . . if Haley doesn't show up.