Rock 'n' Roll Rebel (6 page)

Chapter Twelve

“T
he more I think about the name Pandora's Box, the more I like it for our band,” Robbie told Tig the next day at lunch. Robbie had taken to sitting at what had now become the band's table. Well, minus Haley, of course, and plus Will and Sam, who took the edge seats next to the guys' table.

“Your band's name is Pandora's Box?” Will asked. “I dig that.”

Tig didn't respond. She felt embarrassed but couldn't say why. She just did. Lately everything Will said or did made her feel . . . What was it she felt? Tig wasn't sure. But every time Will was around, she felt it.

“So, how's Haley working out?” Will said.

Tig looked at Olivia, Kyra, and Robbie. No one said a word.

“I take it that means not so good,” said Will. “What? She can't sing?”

“Of course she can sing,” Robbie said. “Haley's the best singer ever. Just ask Haley!”

Tig grinned. “She's all right.”

“No, Tig,” Robbie said. “What you mean is, she's all riiiiii—iiii—iii—iiight!” Robbie pulled her hand down in a fist while singing the word in twenty different notes and about ten syllables.

Will laughed. “No way! She's a warbler?”

“Is Haley a warbler?” Robbie laughed. “Was John Locke an influential thinker during the Enlightenment?” Robbie laughed some more, but everyone else just stared at her. Robbie stopped laughing. “The answer is yes. Yes, he was. Man, don't you people know your basic historical references? Sheesh.”

“Haley's a bit of a diva,” Olivia said. “Except that she can't really sing.”

“Olivia!” said Kyra.

“Well, she can't,” Olivia said. “I mean, I'm just sayin'.”

“Aww, man,” said Will. “There goes your edge. You can't have a pop-soul diva front a rock band. Especially one who can't really even sing.”

“Did you hear that, Kyra?” Tig asked.

“Oh, so now we're listening to Will all of a sudden?” said Kyra.

“What are you going to do?” Will said. “Give her the old heave-ho?”

“I don't know,” Tig said. “I've got to do something, but I'm not looking forward to the confrontation.”

“Oh,
I'm
looking forward to the confrontation!” Robbie said. “Can I have the confrontation? Please? I would savor it. Let me kick her out. I'll totally do it.”

“Give her one more chance,” Kyra said. “Please? Everyone will think we're mean if we kick her out now.”

“Everyone who? Regan and Sofia? Who cares?” Robbie said. “I'm not scared of them.”

“Me neither,” Tig said. But deep down, she was a little bit scared. What drama would result in kicking Haley out of the band? Regan and Haley and Sofia may have been annoying Bots, but Tig had a feeling they knew how to bring it when crossed. Running the school social hierarchy wasn't the kind of thing that happened by accident.

“One more practice,” Kyra said. “Please, Tig.”

Tig sighed. “Okay. One. But that's it. We'll see how it goes. We'll practice Friday after school, before the sleepover. Then we'll discuss.”

“Can I come?” Will asked.

“To the practice?” said Tig.

“Or the sleepover. I'm not picky.”

Tig elbowed him. “In your dreams.” She didn't want Will anywhere near practice. She didn't need him critiquing her drumming. She was still too green.

“I'll go ask Haley if Friday works for her,” Kyra said. Everyone stared at her. “What? You already said I could invite her to the sleepover! And she needs to be at practice.” Before anyone could say anything else, Kyra was on her way to Haley and Regan's table.

Tig, Olivia, Robbie, and Will watched from across the lunch room. Kyra's posture showed her nervousness, and the smile plastered on her face was forced. Regan looked at her with revulsion, and Haley barely looked at her at all. Haley waved her hand in dismissal, and Kyra returned to Tig's table.

“She said she'll think about it,” Kyra said.

“Did you hear that, Tig?” Robbie asked. “Haley's going to think about it! Oh, joy! Oh, happy day! To think that peasants such as ourselves should be so honored!”

“What's so bad about thinking about it?” Kyra said.

“Nothing,” Tig replied. “Let's just see how it goes on Friday.”

Chapter Thirteen

T
ig didn't think it was possible for Haley to be more obnoxious, but on Friday she outdid herself.

When she got to practice, she announced, “You've got thirty minutes of my time. Make it count. It's Friday, and I have plans.”

“You're not staying for the sleepover?” Kyra asked.

Haley laughed. “Did you miss the part where I said I have plans?”

When they began practicing, Haley was all over the map. First there was the tempo issue. Even though the rest of the band had told her at the last practice that they wouldn't slow down the song, Haley sang it the way she wanted to. She dragged and put in vocal flourishes as she saw fit, paying no attention to what the other band members were doing.

“Haley, part of being in a band is listening to the other members,” Tig said. “If we all just do our own thing, we're not a band. We're just a bunch of people making noise in the same general area.”

“Does the term
lead
singer mean anything to you people?” Haley asked. “Lead. As in, get your act together and start following me.”

“Listen, Haley . . . ,” Tig began.

“From the top,” Haley said. Then she counted off and cranked the song through her phone, which she'd hooked up to a speaker. Tig couldn't believe she'd actually counted off! And Kyra fell in on bass with the recording. Tig, once again too shocked to think straight, fell in behind Kyra, and Olivia started in on the keyboard.

Then Robbie jumped in.

But what Robbie played was nothing at all like “Sweet Home Alabama.” Her guitar was squealing and whining all over the place, her hand running up and down the frets at a speed none of her bandmates could've matched, even if they had known what in the world she was playing.

Haley clicked off her phone, put her hands over her ears, and shouted, “What are you doing?”

Robbie played a couple more licks before stopping. “Oh, I'm sorry. Was I supposed to wait for the rest of you? Were we supposed to be playing something together? I mean, I am
lead
guitar, so I figured you'd all just, you know, follow me. Or wait . . . was that completely self-centered?”

Tig couldn't help but smirk. “Okay, Robbie. You've made your point.”

“Have I?” Robbie asked. “Haley, do you think I've made my point?”

“Here's
my
point,” Haley said. “My mom's going to be here any minute. And then I'm out of here because I have more important things to do than hang around with a bunch of people who don't appreciate what I have to offer. While you're having your little sleepover, you can work out how you're going to deal with this. Because frankly, Robbie, I don't like your attitude. So you have a choice: either fix it or find another band.”

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

A
t 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.