Indigo Blues (8 page)

I haven't even acknowledged his presence when Eli
bounds toward me.

"Oh, my God, Indigo." He hops from one foot to the
other. His now-spiked hair teeters back and forth. "You'll
never guess who just called!"

This is not my idea of mindless entertainment. Although
he does look a bit ridiculous. "Grandma again?"

"No." He shakes his head. "Take another guess."

"The president?" I push past him to grab a Diet Coke
from the fridge.

"I wish."

I turn around and stare at him. "I've got an idea. Why
don't you just tell me?"

"Candi Campbell from Blitz News Magazine. Can you
believe it?"

My face feels flush and my eyes narrow to small slits.
"Why?"

"She wants to interview you about the song!" Eli circles
me in a happy dance.

I'm standing frozen in the kitchen. "I hope you told
her I took a pledge of celibacy and became a nun. Convent
unknown."

"She said she'd even get a clip of me."

"I'll get a clip out of you, too, if you talk." I grab one
of his sticky gelled chunks and pretend to snip, snip, snip.

He shakes me off. "That's a threat."

"Please, this is my life we're talking about. Have you seen
the way that lady can spin an interview around in seconds?
Sure, she comes on all sugary sweet. Her name is Candi, but
then vroom, she's in your face, digging up dirt faster than an
armadillo."

"I think you mean `anteater.' They eat like thirty thousand ants a day."

"An overdose of the Discovery Channel can severely
impact your mental capabilities." I pull hard on his hair. My
fingers stick to the spikes. "You're missing the point here,
detective. She's going to grind me into the ground until I
break down. And there's no way you're going to see me cry
on national TV. Remember what she did to that Betty Glad
lady?"

"Who's she?" Eli rolls his eyes at me.

Betty's husband "accidentally" drowned in the bathtub.
She was billed as the poor, distraught housewife until word
surfaced about the million-dollar life insurance policy she
had on him.

"Well?" Eli asks.

I look him straight in the eye. "Betty killed her annoying brother."

"Yeah, right." He cranes his neck and matches my
stare.

"She started by plucking out his hair. One by one." I
grab Eli again. My hands are so sticky and nasty-feeling.
"What did you put in here?"

"Gelatin."

"Jell-O doesn't stick like this." I pull my hand free
from his head and sniff. "Glue?"

"Yeah, and a couple other ingredients that I read about
online."

My eyes widen. "Like?"

"Egg yolk and soap. Supposed to be easier on the scalp."

"Sounds delicious. Have fun getting it out." I walk
past him back to the kitchen, and grab a bag of chips to go
with my Diet Coke.

"What about Candi?" He follows behind me.

"You don't talk to her about me and I won't tell her
about the glue."

"So how do I get this crap out?"

"A little late to be thinking about that now." I leave
him at the bottom of the stairs and book it up to my room.
Let Mom deal with him. I just want to watch TV and tune
out.

Okay, life's so unfair. There's this pimped-out rapper's
pad on MTV Cribs and his master bathroom is bigger than
my bedroom, Eli's bedroom, and my parents' office put
together. What's up with that?

There's a knock on my door.

I ignore it, hoping he'll go away.

Second knock.

"Okay, what do you want?" I shout, but I don't get up
from my bed.

"Excuse me?" Mom opens my door. She's wearing the
matching baby blue crystal earrings and necklace that I
made for her last Christmas. At the time I thought blue
was cool and calming, but now it screams DEATH TO
INDIGO.

I sit up and mute the TV. "Oops, sorry. I thought you
were Eli."

Mom sits on the edge on my bed. "Do you want to
talk?"

"I had nothing to do with the glue."

"Glue? Did he break something?"

"No, just forget about it. I had a long day."

"Too many chocolate pretzels to make?" Mom smiles,
and two little lines extend from each corner of her mouth.
In an instant they fade.

"No, the shop was slow. It's all this other crap."

She nods her head as if she just made a fascinating discovery. "Don't worry about Candi. You don't have to speak
to the media. I'll deal with her."

"Thanks, Mom."

She gets up to leave, but stops. "Did you see her interview with the mayor last week? I thought she did an excellent job."

"Mom." I eyeball her. "Not happening."

"I was just saying..." She laughs, trying to hold herself
back. "Anyway, Dad's running late at the office but dinner
should be in half an hour. Lasagna tonight."

"Cool." I nod and she leaves me to the TV.

Ugh, why doesn't my family see how humiliating this
all is?

Indigo Blues, when she sees me up on the big stage, her
eyes are gonna glaze and she'll wish she had me then ...

No, I won't. Never. And can't anyone see how pig-headed
those words are?

Geez. I put my hands up to my ears and shake my
head. Song, get out of my brain. Quick, I need to focus on
something else. I pick up the remote and flip the channels.
VH 1 is showing some old videos. I blast the song "Girls
Just Want to Have Fun." You're right, they do, pink-haired
'80s lady.

I call Cat. She'll understand.

She picks up right away. "Hey, girl. What's up?"

"Crap day, got crappier."

"Don't even worry about Tripp. I'm sure he'll be humming a new song in a few days."

"Actually, I wasn't even thinking about him until you
brought it up." I run my finger over a poster on my wall
of the movie Music and Lyrics. Why can't real life be cheesy
and romantic like that?

"Oh, sorry."

"Candi Campbell called my house today and spoke to
Eli."

"What did she want?"

I reach down next to my bed and pull my beadbox up
onto the comforter. I need to do something with my hands
before I go crazy. "To interview me about Adam."

"Maybe if you talk to her, you'll be able to set everything straight."

I take out a broken strand of pearls that Mom once gave
me. I told her I could do something with them. "I can't trust
someone whose teeth are whiter than my dad's bleached
undershirts."

"Okay, that's an image I can do without."

"Just trying to make a point." I tug at the pearls, but
they don't budge.

"About Candi's teeth?"

"No, about this whole thing. With Adam."

Cat lets me whine for a few minutes before she has to
go to an aerobics class with her mom.

I put the pearls back in the jewelry box and sit down
at my computer. I know I'm not supposed to care about
Adam, but I Google the band anyway. I might as well find
out what happened at the end of his interview this morning, even if I'm setting myself up for mega embarrassment.

This first site I pull up is the band's official website. I
click on Adam's profile. Wow, what the ... ? He has a faux
hawk and I swear he's wearing eyeliner. I know it's a band
Pic, but still. I might have thought he looked cool if I didn't
know him. But now he just looks freaky. His light brown
eyes are zombie-like and with his hair cut short, his ears
stick out a bit. But I would notice those dimples anywhere.

I guess anyone that becomes famous alters their appear ance in one way or another. I'm sure you get sucked into
that world very fast. New haircut, makeup, wardrobe.
Heck, I'm sure a lot of people even go under the knife. Perhaps Adam could get a lobotomy and they could take out
the obsessive part of his brain. Maybe just move a nerve
sensor or two and presto, he's normal.

I open the next hit. His MySpace page. Dang, he has
over a thousand friends. Why oh why is he stuck on me
when he could have hundreds of other girls? Surely, one of
them will do. Maybe he just enjoys torturing me.

I try to think of the exact moment when I stopped
liking Adam. I mean, I thought he was a cool guy, but I
wasn't in love. I enjoyed watching the band play. Adam was
always so intense on stage. He really got into the music.
The others guys were like that, too, but Adam's passion
seemed to reach a deeper level. That's what scares me most
about "Indigo Blues"-that he didn't write it on a whim,
or on one drunken night. That he really thought about
it before he put pen to paper. What if these are his real
feelings, like he said? Still, it's so unfair. There were some
things about him that seemed over-the-top, like how he
kept better track of me than my mother. Maybe I should've
noticed the warning signs earlier.

He was always sticking to me whenever we were somewhere together, like Swedish fish stick to my teeth. Almost
like he was afraid I might disappear. I could feel his eyes on
me. At first it was flattering, but after a while it was really
annoying. He just needs to forget about me and move on.

I search some more on the web. My last stop is the Wake Up, America site. There's so much happening, like
a caffeine-overload. Still, it doesn't take me long to spot
the bright red blinking link to the Blank Stare interview.
I launch the video. It starts out with a Pepto-Bismol commercial. How did they know I was watching?

I catch a glimpse of Zach first. He's uber cute as usual.
All the guys are dressed really nicely, in bright crisp shirts
and dark blue jeans. Adam looks a little nervous, but he
still manages to answer all Allie and Harry's questions
about "Indigo Blues," about me. The interview isn't as
damaging to me as I thought it would be. I can't believe
they told Allie the true meaning of Blank Stare, though.
It's kind of funny to see her blush on national TV, but still,
she keeps her composure and moves right along to the next
question. I'm sure she's had more difficult moments, like
the time a few years ago when she interviewed a serial killer
who had a crush on her.

Ugh, enough. I click off the computer and scoot my
chair away from the desk. Maybe I'm being too harsh on
Adam. Maybe he clings to me because he doesn't have
enough love in his life. I know he had a hard time growing up and his dad is so stiff. But still, I don't know how I
could fill that void.

I pick up my phone and scroll through my recent text
messages. There's one that Adam sent on Thursday night
when I was up late beading. I didn't even bother reading it.

Indigo sorry for hanging up on u.

He's apologizing. Maybe that's a start. I don't see any
harm in texting him back.

Ok. Been busy. Heard you spilled stuff in
the big interview.

pilled stuff? Is Indigo upset? All I did was say something nice about her in the interview. I said there's
always a place for her in my heart. She makes me out to
be some kind of monster. I give her space. I haven't tried
to contact her in days. Doesn't she realize how hard this all
is for me?

Is this what you get when you open your heart up to
someone? To the entire nation? Now I feel like a fool. People all over the country are going to think of me as some
sap who keeps drooling over the same girl, year after year. I
can't end up a twisted soul.

I grab at my throat and pull on the necklace that Indigo
made for me last year. I wish Mom was still alive. If she hadn't gotten in the car with her dentist, she would still
be here. It's already been eight years since her death, but I
know I would've been able to talk to her. She had a way of
getting me to open up, even if she practically had to pry my
jaw open. I used to think all her questions were annoying,
but not now.

My fingers trail down the front of my neck. Did Mom
feel her neck snap when the Mercedes hit the tree at eighty
miles per hour? Did Dr. Clemens have time to call his wife
and apologize before he died two hours later?

I rub the smooth stones. This is really the only piece of
Indigo that I have. I can just picture her sorting the beads
and then stringing them one by one. Her fingers so delicate. Her skin so smooth. Some people used to call her
Snow White. I always wanted to be her prince, the one to
rescue her, but maybe she didn't need rescuing.