Rock 'n' Roll Rebel (8 page)

Chapter Eighteen

A
full week had passed since Tig had kicked Haley out of the band. Tig kept waiting for the Bots to strike, but the Bots had so far been eerily quiet, showing no signs of an impending attack. That made Tig even more nervous. She was more of a hurry-up-and-rip-off-the-bandage-and-get-it-over-with kind of girl than a drag-out-the-agony type.

Robbie had suggested that the best way for Tig and the other girls to stop worrying about what the Bots might be up to was to learn a new song, and Robbie knew just the one: “Plush,” of course.

The basic beat of “Plush” was so different from “Sweet Home Alabama,” it took Tig a full hour just to get the coordination down. She could practically do the
one and, three and
bass kick for “SHA” in her sleep, but this song required the kick on
one and
, the
and
of two, and the
and
of three. And that was just the basic beat; the orchestral ruff before the lyrics started was basically a sophisticated flam that required her to hold the sticks differently than she was used to in order to bounce the left stick so that it hit the snare three times in one beat.

But Robbie was so enamored of the song, and Claire's voice singing it, Tig had vowed to try. Robbie wanted them to be able to play the song by the time Claire joined the band, which, as far as Robbie was concerned, couldn't come soon enough.

Tig was so focused on the ruff, she didn't hear Mrs. Freeman call her name three times before she snatched the pencils out of Tig's hands.

“Antigone, for the purposes of this class, pencils are for writing,” Mrs. Freeman said.

“Yes, ma'am,” Tig replied. The class giggled.

Sofia was in the class with her and rolled her eyes but made no comment. Kyra and Tig looked at each other. They'd both been on edge, waiting for Haley, Regan, and Sofia to strike.

When class was over, Claire was still zipping up her binder while the other students were filing out the door.

Tig elbowed Kyra. “Hey, Claire,” Tig said. “How's it going?”

Claire smiled demurely. “Good.”

“So, we caught your act at Pepe's a couple of weekends ago,” Tig said.

“Yeah, you were really good!” Kyra added. “We were wondering . . .”

Tig cleared her throat and gave Kyra a stern look. She'd already discussed with Kyra how this would work. First they'd make friends with Claire. Then Tig would ask her to join the band.

“We were wondering if you enjoyed yourself,” Tig said.

Claire blushed. “Oh, my brother made me do it,” she said. “I was so embarrassed!” She definitely had an accent, but whether it was Australian or English, Tig couldn't quite tell.

“Well, you shouldn't be,” Tig said. “You were great.”

“Thanks,” Claire said. “I just get nervous having all those people look at me.”

“Say, where do you sit in the lunch room?” Tig asked.

“Usually over by the outside doors,” Claire said.

“Well, if you ever want to sit with us, we have room,” Tig said.

“Really? Okay, thanks.”

As the three girls walked out of English class together, Tig saw Haley, Regan, and Sofia eyeing them from down the corridor.

“See you at lunch,” Tig said as she and Kyra turned to go opposite from Claire and away from the staring Bots.

“I still don't see why we're going to all this trouble,” Kyra said. “Why can't we just go ahead and ask Claire to be in the band?”

“Because we don't want to spook her,” Tig said. “It would be like some guy you just met asking you out.”

“You say that like it would be a bad thing.”

“Besides, Claire said she was embarrassed about being onstage. If we ask her now, she'll say no. But once we're all friends, it won't be this big, scary proposition—it'll be this cool activity good friends do together as a sort of project.”

“So we're going to manipulate her?”

“It's not manipulation,” Tig said. “Not if our motives are pure. Claire seems really nice. But she's shy. Let's get to know her, see if we all click. We know she's got the pipes, but as we've recently learned, bands need to work well as a team. Let's see if we all mesh together. We can't risk getting another uncooperative diva out front. We need someone we all actually like. Someone who's a team player.”

“With her voice, she could spit in Robbie's face and Robbie would still want her singing lead,” Kyra said.

“Claire doesn't strike me as the face-spitting type,” Tig replied.

“Me neither. She really does seem sweet.”

“Kyra, do me a favor. Keep this under your hat.”

“I won't say a word!”

“I mean it this time,” Tig said. “Just because we haven't heard from Regan's crew yet about the incident with Haley doesn't mean we won't. In fact, it worries me more that it's taking them so long to strike. Like they're cooking up something really big.”

“Maybe they're not going to do anything at all,” said Kyra. When Tig rolled her eyes, Kyra said, “I know. Wishful thinking.”

“Regan won't let a challenge to the order go unpunished,” Tig said. “Girls like her don't get to the top and stay there by letting girls like us defy them. No, something's coming. The best thing we can do right now is to be ready and make sure they don't have any new information to use against us. Got it?”

Kyra promised to be discreet.

Tig would work on wooing Claire. And on getting “Plush” figured out.

And in the meantime, she'd watch her back.

Chapter Nineteen

C
laire joined Tig and the other girls at the lunch table the next day.

Tig had already instructed the other members of the band not to pounce. “Get to know her,” Tig had told them. “Just be cool.”

“So tell us about yourself,” Tig said to Claire. “Where'd you come from?”

“Yeah, Mars or Jupiter?” Robbie said. Claire laughed quietly.

“That did sound weird,” Tig said. “What I meant was, where did you live before you moved here?”

“England,” Claire said.

“That's so cool!” Olivia said.

“We were kinda wondering about the accent,” Tig said. “It's awesome.”

“That's one nice benefit of living in the States,” Claire said. “Americans are easily charmed by any rubbish that comes out of my mouth, it seems.” She smiled.

“Have you ever been to Wimbledon?” Olivia asked.

“I'm afraid not.”

“I plan on playing there one day!” Olivia said.

“Oh, wouldn't that be lovely?” Claire replied.

“Lovely!” Olivia said with a big smile. “That sounds so . . . British! You have such a cool accent! I bet you could talk your way out of anything around here!”

“How'd you end up in Alabama, of all places, from England?” Will asked.

“My dad accepted a position at the university. He's heading up one of the English department's programs on Shakespeare.”

Kyra asked, “Do you miss England? Do you ever get to go back to visit?”

“Our plan is to go home about once a year,” Claire replied. “Over the holidays to visit family.”

“England and Alabama,” Tig said. “That's an interesting combination.”

“Yeah,” Claire said. “Should make for an odd blending of accents. Dad's already teasing me about picking up a Southern drawl. I'm probably the only person in town who says
mum
in one breath and
y'all
in the next!”

Tig loved the idea of having a new friend who was British. It seemed so exotic.

“What's your favorite part about England?” Kyra asked.

“Definitely the shopping,” Claire said. “Not to say that the old beautiful castles and such aren't wonderful to visit, but really, some of the shops back home are to die for!”

As Claire and the other girls chatted about shopping in England, Tig felt someone staring at her. She looked up to see Haley, Regan, and Sofia watching from their table. When they saw Tig look at them, they looked away and began what looked to Tig like plotting. Tig told herself to ignore them . . . at least for now.

“So what kind of music do you like?” Tig asked Claire.

“Oh, really anything,” Claire said. “I love all sorts of music.”

“Yeah, us too,” Tig said. “All of us do, in fact. You should come over sometime. The girls and I have this, well, you might call it a musical community. We get together at my house—my family has this little building on our property, and my folks let me use it as kind of a hangout, so sometimes we jam a little bit.”

“You all have a band?” Claire asked.

“Well, you could call it a band,” Tig said. “It's no big, really. Very casual. We just kind of mess around.”

“Tig's the drummer,” Will said.

“You've heard her play?” said Claire.

“Not yet,” Will replied. “But I'd like to.”

“Will just wants to make fun of how pathetic I am,” Tig said, smiling. “But he's not going to get the chance.”

“I might not make fun,” Will said. “Depends on how badly you play.”

The moment had come. Tig was just about to invite Claire over to her house Friday night when a shadow fell over the table.

“I absolutely
love
that scarf!” It was Haley. She was looking right at Claire.

“Oh, thank you,” Claire replied.

“You're in my study hall, aren't you?” Haley asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

“I'm Haley.”

“I know,” Claire said. “I'm Claire.”

“You're new, right?”

“Kind of.”

“Well, it's great to meet you. Come sit with me in study hall, okay?”

“Sure,” Claire said. “I'd like that.”

As Haley walked away, Robbie, Tig, Olivia, and Kyra exchanged a look.

Tig rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Claire. “So, as I was saying, we're getting together Friday night if you want to come.”

“Wasn't that nice of Haley to come over and introduce herself?” Claire replied.

“Sure,” Tig said.

“I wonder what she's like,” Claire said.

“I'd be happy to answer that question for you,” Robbie said.

Tig shot her a look. “We don't really know her all that well,” Tig said. “So, what about Friday night? Want to join us?”

“I'd like that,” Claire said. “I don't play an instrument, so I'd love to see you all play.”

“Great,” Tig said. “Let's make it a slumber party! We have those all the time at my house. It's tons of fun.”

“What time should I be there?” Will asked.

Robbie gave Will a playful smack on the head. “You wish!”

Will laughed. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Sounds good,” Claire said. “I'll ask my mum and let you know tomorrow.”

Tig tried not to scream
Yes!
and high-five Robbie. She could hardly wait to get home and work some more on “Plush.” Claire was going to be their lead singer. Claire didn't know it yet, of course, but Tig could just feel it.

Chapter Twenty

I
t came as no surprise that even Claire's pajamas were classic: pale pink cotton with the traditional collar and four buttons on top, and white piping along the collar, pants, and sleeves. She accessorized with small pearl stud earrings and the same baby-pink color of polish on her toes.

In contrast, Robbie wore a gray-and-white tie-dyed Pink Floyd T-shirt and boxer shorts; Olivia, Hello Kitty pj pants and a tee from a tennis tournament; and Tig and Kyra, supersoft yoga pants and tees from last year's fall festival at school.

Tig half expected Claire to pull out a satin sleep mask to complete her look—but if she had, Tig wouldn't have minded. It would have suited Claire. There was something about her Tig admired. The way she carried herself with natural elegance. Tig wondered how she learned it, or if it wasn't something that could be learned but was instead a gift from birth. Or if it was just a product of being British.

They'd had a good evening so far. They'd ordered pizza, watched a few reruns of
I Love Lucy
, and even done a few hilarious impressions of teachers and the principal (he was easy—all Tig had to do was nonchalantly throw around gigantic vocabulary words). They'd hung out for a while in the studio, showing Claire their instruments and playing “Sweet Home Alabama” for her . . . but not “Plush.” It wasn't time. Tig had warned the other girls not to “scare the fish”; and besides, Kyra and Tig still didn't have the whole thing down yet.

“So what do you think of Lakeview Heights so far, Claire?” Olivia asked.

“I like it,” Claire said. “For a while I wasn't so sure. I'm not the best at making friends, and at first no one really talked to me. But now I'm friends with you all, and I'm getting on well with Haley in my study hall, too. She's been really nice.”

Tig felt ice water speed through her veins. “Haley?”

“Yes,” Claire said. “In fact, she invited me to the movies with her group tonight, but of course, I'd already made plans with you. It was rather nice to feel socially desirable, though. Imagine . . . here I am choosing between two lovely sets of friends!”

“Isn't it funny how Haley took an interest in you just about the time you started sitting with us at lunch?” Robbie asked.

The suggestion of sarcasm was lost on Claire. “Quite,” she said. “I suppose you all are good luck!”

“Robbie, can you give me a hand with the popcorn?” Tig asked.

Once the two of them were in the kitchen, Tig said to Robbie, “Don't go there about Haley.”

“Why not?” Robbie said. “Somebody should warn Claire.”

“If we trash Haley, we'll just look petty and mean, and Claire won't want to be friends with us. Let's take the high road.”

“You and your high road. Fine, whatever you say.”

When Robbie and Tig returned with popcorn, the only lights were from the humming television and the streetlight outside the living room window. “What do y'all want to do now?” Tig asked as she picked up a skinny slice of cold pizza from the box and nibbled the crust.

“We could look at funny YouTube videos,” Kyra offered halfheartedly. No one bit.

“We could play a game,” Olivia suggested.

“Not video tennis,” Kyra said. “You'd have an unfair advantage.”

Olivia grinned. “How about a dance-off? I brought that new dance challenge game.”

“Count me out,” Robbie said.

“Yeah, me too,” said Tig.

“Got any other games?” Olivia asked.

It was quiet for a moment before Robbie said, “I know a game!” Her smile said it was going to be either really bad or really fun . . . or maybe both.

“If this involves sneaking out to TP Mrs. Freeman's yard, the answer is still no,” Tig said. “I already told you: it's too obvious, and we'd get busted in a heartbeat.”

“Besides, I like Mrs. Freeman,” Olivia said.

“I like her, too,” Robbie said. “But what's that got to do with it? She's a teacher. It's almost our sacred duty to mess with her. But Tig's right. We'd get busted. Besides, it's almost too . . .”

“Pedestrian?” Claire said.

“Yeah,” Robbie said.

Kyra said, “Whatever that means.”

Claire blushed. “You know, like banal.”

Kyra laughed. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

Now Claire really blushed and put her hand over her eyes and laughed at herself. “Sorry! I actually like vocabulary. Over the summer I look up a new word every day. I know—I'm a total nerd.”

“I don't think that's nerdy,” said Tig. “I think that's really cool. And even cooler that you told us.”

Claire smiled. “So, what do you have in mind for us, Robbie?”

“Like I always say, if it ain't broke, don't fix it,” Robbie replied.

“Fix what? And since when do you always say that?” Tig said.

“Since now,” Robbie said. “Slumber party games, I mean. Don't reinvent the wheel; go with a classic. An oldie but a goodie. How about Truth or Dare?”

Kyra clapped her hands. “Ooh! I haven't played that in years!”

Olivia said, “Sounds fun.”

“Okay by me,” said Tig. “What do you think, Claire?”

“Sure. Whatever you all want to do.”

“Let's go up to my room. The walls have ears.” Tig gestured toward the kitchen, where her mom and dad were cleaning up paper plates and gathering the garbage.

Tig's room was painted a silvery blue, which made her white wooden furniture and zebra-print bedding pop. Tig shut and locked the door, and the five girls piled onto her bed. “Who's first?” Tig asked, grabbing a pillow to hug.

“Since it was Robbie's idea, she gets to decide,” Kyra suggested.

“Okay, then,” Robbie said. “Claire, truth or dare?”

“No, don't make Claire go first,” Tig said. “She barely knows us. We can't expect her to spill her secrets.”

“Right,” Kyra said. “At least not until she has enough dirt on us to ensure our secrecy!”

“All right, all right,” Robbie said. “Olivia. Truth or dare?”

Olivia pursed her lips and looked up at the ceiling. “Truth!”

“Chicken!” Kyra teased.

“If you could date any guy at school,” Robbie said, “who would it be?”

Olivia grinned. “Promise you won't tell a soul?”

“And break the sanctity of the sleepover?” Tig said. “Perish the thought!”

“Then I'll tell you,” Olivia said. “You promise, right?”

“Just spit it out!” Kyra said, elbowing Olivia.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Olivia said. “Will.”

“No way!” Robbie said. Kyra squealed in delight.

“Will Mason?” Tig asked.

“You promised you wouldn't tell!” Olivia said. “A promise is a promise!”

Tig furrowed her brow. “Of course I won't tell,” she said. “But just . . . Will? Really?”

“He's adorable!” Olivia said. “Don't you think so, Kyra?”

“Sure,” Kyra said. “Adorable. Right, Tig?”

“I guess I've just never thought of Will as, you know, adorable or whatever,” Tig replied. “Don't you think he's kind of annoying?”

“Not at all!” Olivia said. “Have you ever looked at those eyes?” She threw herself dramatically back onto the bed. “I could get lost in those eyes!”

“Will does have nice eyes,” Claire said. “He seems like a nice fellow.” She looked at Tig. “Isn't he?”

“Well, yeah,” Tig said. “I mean, I guess so. It's just . . . Will? Really? Will Mason?”

Olivia hit Tig's arm playfully. “Yes, Will Mason!”

Tig looked at Robbie. “Will Mason is adorable?”

“I don't do adorable,” said Robbie. “Not my thing. But whatever works for you, Olivia. Okay, you're next.”

“Tig,” Olivia said. “Truth or dare?”

Tig's mind was reeling from Olivia's revelation. She could barely think straight. Olivia liked Will? Why? And how long had she been crushing on him? And why did Tig care? She didn't care. She totally didn't care. “Dare,” she said.

Olivia smiled. “I dare you to call Will,” she said, “on speakerphone! And find out what he thinks of me!”

Robbie high-fived Olivia. “Way to take the bull by the horns!” she said. “I mean, the more direct bull-and-horns method would be to just woman up and ask him yourself and then tell him to get lost if you don't like his answer, but you know, this could work, too.”

“I don't know about this, y'all,” Tig said.

“You have to do it! It's a dare!” Olivia said.

“Yeah, but what if you don't like what he says?”

“You think Will doesn't like me?”

“I don't know. I'm not saying that. Look, I'll take the dare if it's something I have to do, but it's not really fair to Will to put him on speakerphone without telling him.”

Claire said, “That's true. It would be bad form.”

“But I'm
dying
to know!” Olivia said.

“How long have you liked Will, anyway?” Kyra asked.

“Since the beginning of the year,” Olivia replied. “Did you see him when he got back from the beach this summer? His hair was so shiny, with the highlights from the sun, and his cute little legs were all brown.”

Tig hadn't noticed.

“How about a compromise?” Robbie suggested. “How about if Tig calls him but doesn't put him on speakerphone? She can make inquiries for you, get you the info you want, but not put Will in a bad position.
That's fair, don't you think, Tig?”

Tig took a deep breath. “I guess so.”

“Yay!” Olivia said. “Call him right now!”

“I don't even know his number.”

“It's on his profile page,” Olivia said. “Not that I've cyberstalked him. Much.”

Once they had the number, Olivia, Robbie, Claire, and Kyra positioned themselves on the bed around Tig and stared as she started dialing. Tig stopped. “You're all creeping me out.”

“It's just so exciting!” Olivia said. “I want to know what he says.”

“Well, I can't work under this kind of pressure,” Tig said. “I'm taking the phone into the bathroom.” The girls whined. “Don't worry; I'll give you a full report.”

Tig barricaded herself in the bathroom, sitting on a fuzzy bath mat. She took another deep breath as the number she called started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Will?”

“Yes. Who's this?”

“Tig. Tig Ripley.”

“Oh. For a second there I thought maybe it was Tig Smith or Tig Finkleheimer.”

Tig laughed. “I guess that was a bit redundant.”

“Well, Tig Ripley, what's up?”

“Yes,” Tig said. “What is up, indeed.” What? What did she just say? What in the heck did that even mean?

Will laughed. “I don't know. You tell me.”

“I just, you know, wanted to see what you were up to.”

“Just watching TV. How about you?”

“Nothing much. Just sitting here in my bathroom.”

“You don't say?” replied Will.

Tig realized how weird that sounded. “I mean, I'm not sitting in the bathroom, like, you know, using it or anything. I'm just in here because . . . my phone gets better reception in here.”

“Okay,” Will said.

“So, I just thought we could, you know, chat.”

“Sounds good. What do you want to chat about?”

Tig made small talk about the drums for a few minutes. Will seemed to enjoy the conversation.
He told her about a song he was learning and asked how her lessons were going. It was nice, and Tig kind of forgot why she'd called him in the first place . . . until Olivia opened the door and mouthed,
What?
and waved her hands around.

Tig shooed her out and this time locked the door behind her.

“Will,” Tig said. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you like anyone at school?”

“I might,” Will replied. “I might even like someone at our lunch table.”

“Who?”

“That's for me to know and you to find out.”

“Seriously?” Tig said. “That's the best you could come up with?”

Will laughed. “That was pretty bad.”

Maybe she should take a different approach. “What do you think of Olivia?”

“Olivia?” Will asked. “Great tennis player, and I think she's a nice girl. Everybody thinks so.”

“You think she's nice?”

“Yeah. Sweet girl.”

Someone knocked at the bathroom door. “Cool,” Tig said. “I gotta go.” She hung up before Will could even say good-bye.

Tig threw open the door.
“What?”

“I'm sorry!” Olivia said. “We couldn't stand it any longer! What took you so long?”

“I didn't want to seem obvious!”

“What did he say? Does he like me?”

Tig went back to the bed. Olivia followed. “He said you're sweet.”