Rock 'n' Roll Rebel (9 page)

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?”

Claire smiled, and her fair skin blushed pink again. “I really don't think I'm much of a singer. Getting up in front of people, having them look at me, listen to me . . . I don't know what to say.”

“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

F
irst 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.”

“True,” Tig said. “But where are we going to find two other girls who can play guitar like you?”

“I don't even want to try,” Robbie said. “We had enough trouble just getting a lead singer.”

“You got that right,” Olivia remarked.

“We'll make it work,” Robbie said. “Olivia, you tore up that keyboard. Great job.”

“Claire's got the lead vocals,” Tig said. “But we need somebody besides Olivia to back her up. Olivia can hit those high notes on the chorus, but we need more volume, more depth. We need two voices at least.”

The girls looked at one another. Nobody volunteered. “Listen, I'm not much of a singer, especially with high parts,” Tig said. “But I can probably do a little bit if Robbie and Kyra do it with me. That way we don't have to have a lot of power behind the backup vocals; we can make up for it with layering the voices.”

They agreed to give it a try, even though Kyra, Robbie, and Tig weren't the best singers. They played the song on Tig's iPhone and sang the backup part together a few times before playing the entire song again from the top with the new vocals.

“That wasn't bad,” Tig said. “But you can hardly hear our voices. We're going to have to get more microphones and stands. I've got some money saved up. I could get one of those boom mics and hang it over the drums on a stand with a scissor arm.”

“I'll spring for one,” said Robbie. “Kyra and I can share it.”

“Sounds good,” Tig said. They agreed to purchase the mics before the next practice. “Let's run through it once more. We'll just have to sing as loud as we can.”

They played the song through again. When they finished, they heard someone clapping from outside the studio. They'd left the door open, and Tig's uncle Paul, her dad's brother, peeked through. “Bravo!” he said, still clapping.

“Uncle Paul,” Tig said. “What're you doing here?”

“Just stopped in to borrow some pool toys.”

Pool toys? “It's too cold for swimming,” Tig said. “You're going to make the kids sick.”

“It's for a campaign one of my students is doing,” Uncle Paul explained. “He needs props for the shoot.” Uncle Paul was an advertising professor at the university and often had odd requests for items his students needed in their ads. “Anyway, I heard there was a rock band in concert out here, so I had to check it out. Y'all sound great!”

“Thanks,” said Tig. “We've been working on this song for a while.”

“Play it again,” said Uncle Paul.

The next time through was better still. Kyra dropped the bass line only once and Tig messed up a couple of times on the drums, but they recovered quickly. When it was over, Claire's smile was so big, her eyes nearly disappeared.

“You guys!” she said. “That was so much fun!”

The five of them hugged and high-fived.

“Hey, how'd you like to play your first gig?” Uncle Paul asked.

“Gig?” Tig asked. “This is the only song we know.”

“Yeah, but your aunt Kate would love it if you played her surprise party.”

“But Aunt Kate's surprise party is tonight!” Tig said. “And you've already hired a band.”

“I'm sure they'd stand aside long enough for you girls to perform this one song. What do you say?”

“Claire?” Tig asked.

“This is all happening so fast,” Claire replied. “How many people will be there?”

“It's nobody you'd know,” Tig said. “Just a bunch of old people.”

“Thanks,” said Uncle Paul.

“What's the pay?” Robbie asked.

Uncle Paul grinned. “I like your style,” he replied. “How about ten bucks apiece?”

Tig looked at the other girls. Their wide smiles told her they were in.

“I guess I could try,” Claire said.

“You've got yourself a deal,” Robbie said, shaking Uncle Paul's hand. “Joke's on you, though. We would've done it for free.”

“Joke's on you. I would've paid you twenty apiece.”