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“Yes, he
is
a good kisser,” I said out loud, my eyes on Andy's.

He looked down. “Who's asking?”

“Don't worry, it's not your dad,” I said. “But the answer would have been the same.”

Andy and I were the last kids waiting outside the school after the dance was over. We sat on the steps after we'd said good-bye to all of our friends. (Alex got a lift with Fiona to give me and Andy some more alone time. She's really good that way. AND I think she was kind of happy to get away from Sean, who'd tried to kiss her using his tongue. Needless to say, they were
so
over.) It was almost nine o'clock, but I knew Dad and Andy's mom were both on their way because at 8:40, I had texted Dad with WHERE R U? and he texted back SRY IM ON MY WAY.

“They must be having a good time,” I said to Andy. He was still holding my hand. That meant we were official.

“I guess,” he said. I think he still wasn't sold on the idea of our parents dating, but I knew that once he really got to know my dad, he'd be okay with it. I mean, it was kind of weird because if our parents got married, we'd be stepbrother and stepsister, but I tried not to think about that.

Mr. Robertson came out of the school behind us. “Hey, kids, are you okay out here?”

I nodded, discreetly letting go of Andy's hand. “Our parents are coming, they're just a bit late.”

“You sure?”

“Yep. Oh, there's my dad now.” I pointed at the car pulling up to the school.

“And my mom's right behind,” Andy said in a strange voice.

Mr. Robertson nodded. “Okay, have a great weekend!”

Andy and I both stood up. “C'mon and meet my dad,” I said to Andy, resisting the urge to take his hand. I mean, I didn't need Dad having a coronary right there.

Dad got out of the car and Andy's mom got out of hers. It was kind of weird, but I worked quickly to try to diffuse the weirdness.

“Dad, this is Andy Finkel.”

Dad glanced over at Andy's mom. I could tell he was trying to figure out what to do. But being the polite guy he is, he stuck his hand out toward Andy. “Hi, uh, Andy. Nice to meet you.”

I held my breath, but then Andy shook my dad's hand like a pro. “Nice to meet you also, Mr. Bloom.”

“Hi, honey,” Mrs. Finkel said as she walked up to us. “And this must be Lilah?”

I looked from her to Dad, whose face was a little
green. I guess he forgot to tell Andy's mom that they were supposed to be dating on the down low.

“Hi, Mrs. Finkel.”

“Please, call me Rachel.”

She was really pretty up close. I could totally see why Dad was smitten. And he was. He was watching her with googly eyes. I wondered if they'd kissed on their date.

Ew. TMI.

“So we should get going, Dad,” I said.

His head snapped toward me. “What's that, Lilah?”

I didn't laugh, but I wanted to. “I said we should go.”

“Oh, right.”

I turned to Andy. “I guess I'll see you on Monday.”

“Actually,” Rachel said, “the four of us are going to go out for dinner tomorrow night. If that's okay.”

If that's okay?
Of course
it was okay. I sighed in relief. Finally one of Dad's dates went well!

“That would be great,” I said. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow then, Andy.”

He seemed happy about that. “Great, see you then.”

Then he and his mom got in their car and Dad and I got in ours.

“So…,” I said.

He didn't say anything.

“Are you going to tell me about what just happened?” It was an open question that either my father or my dead grandmother were welcome to answer.

While Dad chewed on his lower lip and pulled the car from the curb, Bubby decided to fill me in.

“Oh, Lilah, it was wonderful. They got along so well from the second they sat down. And isn't she pretty? And she's smart, too. I'm so pleased!”

I tried not to smile, but it was hard. I was so happy that Dad finally met someone he really liked, AND it was Andy's mom!

“Dad?”

“Huh?”

“Come on, Dad. Obviously the
coffee with a friend
was with Andy's mom.”

He glanced over. “I didn't want to make you feel awkward.”

“I don't feel awkward at all. I think it's great.”

After a few quiet moments, he said, “Thanks, kid.”

“You like her, don't you?”

He did a double take at me, but then sighed. “Yeah, I think I do.”

That was good enough for me.

And apparently my grandmother, too. “Lilah, thank you so much. I'm so proud of you for helping your father like this.”

Which was kind of funny of her to say because I had nothing to do with this date at all, unless you count forcing him to go to the fashion show against his will. I guess that counts a little.

“So, Lilah,” Dad said in his fatherly voice. I knew what was coming.

“Yeah?”

He cleared his throat. “You and Andy?”

“Yeah?” I knew what he was going to ask. He was going to ask if Andy and I were official. I figured there was no point lying, since we were putting all our cards on the table.

But instead he said, “Is he a good kisser?”

ACK! MY FATHER KNOWS ANDY KISSED ME!

I held my breath, not sure what to say. But the way dad glanced over and smirked, I figured it out.

“Yeah, but don't worry, he doesn't use his tongue.”

Dad did another double take.

“Oy,” said my grandmother.

“Oy,” said my dad at the same time.

But it was all good. Yup, everything was very all good.

One day, a surprise FedEx envelope showed up, addressed to
me
. Inside were tickets and backstage passes to the hottest concert of the year.

Dad said getting tickets like that meant we had to rent a limousine for the night. I wasn't about to argue; limousines are way cool.

The limo let us out in front of the stage door. I was so pumped that I could barely contain myself as I dragged Andy up to the huge security guy who stood guard at the door.

“Come on!”

“Lilah, we're coming,” Alex said as she piled out of the limo, leaving only Dad and Andy's mom to climb out behind her. Dad and Rachel were our chaperones, but they were such a fun couple, it wasn't so bad.

I showed the security guy the badge that hung around my neck, and he checked my name against the list on his clipboard. He was pretty diligent about checking all of our badges, but in only a few minutes, he waved us all in. “You'll want the fifth door up on the right,” he said as we filed past him.

I grabbed Andy's arm. “Do you believe we're here? This is SO cool!”

He peeled my fingers off him. “Ow, Lilah!”

“Oh, sorry! I'm just SO excited.”

“I'm not sure why you're getting so worked up.”

“Are you kidding me, Andy? This is
everything
. This is a dream come true.”

He leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on my cheek, keeping his eyes on my dad. “Have I told you lately how incredibly cool you are, Lilah Bloom?”

I smiled up at him. “
You
are the epitome of cool, you know that, Andy Finkel?”

“Epitome? Good Scrabble word,” he said. “Anyway, come on.”

We got to the green room and I knocked hesitantly on the door. Even though we had the passes, it still felt odd.

The door opened into a room full of people.

“Uh, hi, I'm Lilah Bloom,” I said, holding up
my badge and suddenly feeling a lot smaller than usual.

The man who'd opened the door stuck out his hand. “Phil Rivers, the band's producer. Nice to meet you, Lilah.”

“Is that Lilah?” a voice yelled from the back of the room. And then before I knew it, I was being hugged by my music teacher. Excuse me, my
former
music teacher.

“Hi, Mr. Robertson,” I said, my heart pounding with excitement.

“Oh, Lilah, I'm not your teacher anymore. You can call me Frankie.”

It felt weird, but I nodded. “Okay, Frankie. Um, well, you know Andy and Alex.” I pointed over my friends' heads. “And back there, that's my dad and Rachel, who's Andy's mom.”

“Hi,” he said, smiling at everyone in turn.

“Yeah, uh, thanks for the tickets,” Andy said, sounding a bit funny. I wondered if he was starstruck all of a sudden.

Even
I
was totally starstruck!

Like the polite guy he was, Mr. Rob… Frankie invited everyone into the room and introduced us all to the band.

Right after that, I cornered him at the fridge. “I just wanted to thank you for the passes. You totally
didn't have to do this. I mean, we really appreciate it, but when I opened the envelope…” My throat closed up around my words.

“Lilah,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “If it wasn't for you, Jet Black Wig wouldn't exist. You
made
this happen.”

I looked down, fighting tears. You weren't supposed to bawl at a rock concert, and here I was on the verge of blubbering like a two-year-old.

“Lilah?” he said, his tone making me look up at him. “Did she ever come back to you? I would have thought she would have wanted to thank you.”

I knew he meant Serena, his former bandmate and girlfriend, the one who had died.

I shook my head. “Sorry. Just the one time.”

He didn't hide his disappointment, but nodded before he said, “How's everything going for you?”

I shrugged. “Okay, more or less. I mean, I hear dead people, but that's same-old, same-old for Lilah Bloom, right?”

He snorted. “You've got a great sense of humor, Lilah. I always thought you were something special.”

“Yeah, and not an ounce of drumming talent.”

“That's not true. I hope you've been practicing.”

“Yeah, although I'm not sure what good it's doing.”

“I'm sure it's doing a lot of good. Keep at it. Skill
doesn't come overnight, you know. So, what's the name of your band?”

“We're not exactly sure. Maybe Medium or Psychic Phenomenon. But I think we have lots of time to figure it out before we're actually good enough to play any gigs.”

He gave me a huge smile. “Well I look forward to hearing about Medium or Psychic Phenomenon hitting it big. Please keep in touch, Lilah. Maybe down the road we can send you to Phil over there at Sony.”

And he seemed to really mean it, too. I looked over at Phil and the rest of the band. “I should let you get back to them. You go on soon.”

“Thanks again, Lilah. For everything.” He gave me another hug. “And I hope the seats are okay.”

“Uh, are you kidding, Mr…. Frankie? These are front row.”

He smiled and handed me the drumsticks out of his back pocket. “Here. Keep these.”

How cool is that? Frankie Robertson's drumsticks.

He turned to join his bandmates.

But there was one last thing. “Hey, Frankie?”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“She's really proud, you know. I don't have to hear her say it to know it's true.”

Frankie smiled and nodded before returning to the rest of Jet Black Wig.

The crowd screamed for the band to come out for a second encore. And I'm pretty sure my screams were the loudest. It wasn't even just because the drummer used to be my music teacher, either. The truth was Jet Black Wig was an awesome band.

It was no mystery why they were at the top of the charts and selling tons of records. And I had listened to their songs so many times, I knew every one by heart.

So when they came back out, picked up their instruments, and began to play, I was surprised to not recognize the tune as one of theirs.

The lead singer, Stella King (Serena's replacement), leaned into the mic as the guys behind her looped the opening bars of the song.

“We'd like to play a special song to end the show tonight,” she said, her voice reverberating through the huge amps.

The crowd cheered.

“This song,” Stella said as she strummed a chord on her guitar, “is by a little band called Oasis and it's called ‘Lyla.'” She looked down into the audience right into my eyes. “And it's for you. Thank you, Lilah.”

I swear, I almost passed out from the shock. I looked up at Frankie behind his drum kit, and he was looking right at me. He smiled and winked and then started drumming like the rock star he was.

Yeah, being a medium was going to be all right, after all.

They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, if that's true, this baby took an enormous metropolis to feed, change, discipline, educate, and dress to get it ready to go out in the world. It's been a long journey and I know I'm going to miss thanking people who helped shape me and this book, so if you are reading this and think you should have been mentioned here, but weren't, you're probably right; please accept my apologies AND my thanks.

My first thank-you goes to Lynda Simmons and Rachael Preston—two great authors and writing teachers who helped me realize even at the very beginning that maybe I could do this.

I've had the good fortune to have had many readers for this and my other works. Thank you for your honest feedback, encouragement, and support:
Christine Carleton, Sarah Goodhope, Amanda Morgan, Carrie Grosvenor, and Kay Chornook.

To the excellent writer friends who read, encouraged, picked me up and dusted me off, and have been endless founts of support, help, and love: Lisa McMann, Eileen Cook, A. S. (Amy) King, Robin Brande, Bev Katz Rosenbaum, Danielle Younge-Ullman, Maureen McGowan, Lauren Baratz-Logsted, and Jenny Gardiner. Thank you!

Thank you to Janet Reid for your ongoing support and education of writers. Cupcakes are always on me.

A big shout-out to the groups of which I'm a member—you are filled with awesome: The Debutante Ball (
http://www.thedebutanteball.com
), The Class of 2012 (
www.classof2k12.com
), The Apocalypsies (
http://apocalypsies.blogspot.com
), and Backspace (
www.bksp.org
).