“Have a good time, honey.” She tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I know we haven’t really talked about this much.” She nodded at my outfit. She’d been so exhausted after work, and with the additional strain of the press, the two of us hadn’t been able to discuss how my life was changing. My mom has always been great at carving out time for Dylan and me. Ever since my dad left, the two of us have snuggled on the couch with big mugs of hot chocolate and analyzed every little part of our lives. She’s taken on the roles of mother
best friend
therapist. But the older I got, the busier I became … and the more I couldn’t share. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really—just the way it worked out.
“You know you don’t have to do anything that feels wrong.”
I guess it must be hard to see your little girl grow up. And become an instant Internet sensation.
“I know.” I tugged the hem of the top up, not that it made a difference. “Well, except for this. Corey’ll throw a fit if I change now. I’ll be back after the show,” I promised. “My homework’s done and my cell phone is charged. I’ll be fine.”
She nodded and I slipped out of the house and into Corey’s car, fighting a mixture of excitement and nerves. Still, it was a huge relief to see that the paparazzi had lost interest in house calls. There’d only been a handful of reporters at school that day too. My updated wardrobe got some buzz, but my fame seemed to have petered out. And soon, very soon, I’d just be one more girl in a sea of loud ReadySet fans.
I figured that my backstage passes would be the last celebrity freebie, and I was way more excited about the concert than about any stupid dresses (even ones created by Valentino). I was determined to make the most of it. So I tried to play it cool when Corey, Jane, and I were led backstage by a harried-looking techie who didn’t appreciate having another duty added to her list.
Okay, I have always thought it’s stupid the way people act differently around celebrities. I’ve never understood girls who do stuff like scream “ROBERT!
OHMIGOD
,
ROBERT
, I
LOVE
YOU!” at
Twilight
movie premieres—especially since they nearly faint if Robert Pattinson smiles back. Come on: he’s a guy who claims to “sparkle” in a movie.
Lame.
Given that, I thought meeting the band would be no big deal. Well, a huge deal for
me,
of course, but I’d just play it cool. It turns out … not so much.
The assistant
tech woman rapped on a door and, after receiving a hollered response, shoved us inside and left.
The room looked like a tasteful backdrop for a photo shoot, all cream-colored walls and comfy-looking leather couches. Half-finished water bottles and beer cans littered a small wooden table next to a huge bowl of M&M’s.
“Oh, hey.” Timothy Goff nodded at us from the couch where he watched his bandmates compete on a Wii. “Glad you could make it.”
I wobbled forward on my red wedge heels. Timothy Goff hadn’t become a rock sensation just because of his music. He was gorgeous. Way more attractive than Robert Pattinson, in my personal opinion. His hair was sandy brown, his eyes a clear shade of blue, and his mouth was made for smiling. A little scar cutting through his right eyebrow kept him from being storybook handsome and added a bit of danger to the mix.
“Hey,” I replied, none too steadily. “I’m Mackenzie. Er, Mackenzie Wellesley. Um … these are my friends Jane and Corey.”
“I’m Tim,” he replied.
I fought back the bizarre urge to giggle, scream, or gush something stupid like “I know!”
“Dominic’s the one losing horribly to Chris.” He introduced them since neither had looked up from the screen. They all looked young enough to be Notables at Smith High School. I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like touring the country in a rock band at the age of seventeen. Although it sounded like it’d make for one hell of a college admission essay.
“Any of you up for Wii tennis?”
I couldn’t believe it.
Timothy Goff
had introduced himself to us as Tim. As if we could just say, “Hi, Tim!” or “How’s it going, Tim?”
Timothy Goff
was casually inviting us to play Wii.
TIMOTHY
GOFF!
I completely blanked. Words failed me. I just stood there gaping while “Tim” acted like it was perfectly normal for people to become speechless in his presence. It probably was too.
“I’m in.”
Much to everyone’s surprise, Jane moved to the couch, picked up a controller, and began to battle Dominic. Corey and I traded one startled look before we scooted over to watch the competition.
I’m not sure exactly how the tension vanished from the room, but one moment I was standing awkwardly by the couch and the next everyone was yelling, cheering, or swearing while Jane showed off her impressive backhand. And while, yes, Tim was the first real celebrity I’d ever met, he was so laid-back it felt almost … comfortable. Well, after the initial shock.
“I meant to ask,” he said as Chris challenged Jane to a game, “what you thought of the music video.”
Jane’s forehand smash distracted me into a normal response. “It’s great: artsy but not pretentious. I’d love it if it didn’t include
me
.”
He grinned, and suddenly I was worried that my legs wouldn’t support me—that I’d be one of his swooning female fans. “I know the press can be a bit much … but when I saw the video, I just couldn’t resist.”
In that moment he could’ve filmed me doing anything and I would’ve forgiven him. I was that pathetically starstruck.
“Well.” I tried to pull myself together. “It’s one of your best songs. Deep down I might even be flattered.” I paused to consider. “Eventually.”
“She listened to
Dialects of the Unemployed
about a million times when the CD came out,” Corey informed Tim. “
And
she created Rollerblade routines for each track. Trust me, she’s flattered.”
I elbowed Corey in the stomach. “I was trying to play it cool!”
“You Rollerblade?”
“Yeah,” I said, wishing I could say something cooler, like I was a skilled ukulele player … anything else. “I know it hasn’t been cool since the eighties. And let’s be honest: the eighties isn’t a good decade for inspiration.”
“I don’t know … my skintight leather pants are in.”
There was a painful moment when Corey and I just stared at him in horror before Tim burst out laughing. “I’m joking.”
“Oh, thank God, I doubt even you could pull that off,” Corey said as he surveyed Tim’s physique. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I sensed tension that had nothing to do with awkwardness. Corey quickly shook himself out of whatever he’d just been thinking and smiled. “Plus someone might throw red paint at you for wearing leather.”
“Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve had thrown at me,” Tim admitted. “Usually it’s bras from my, uh, overly devoted female fans. Still, once I was in the middle of ‘Better Off Broken’ when someone chucked a cucumber at me. It missed, but not by much.”
“Then there was the ‘Marry Me, Timothy’ sign that knocked over the microphone stand,” Dominic added. “That was memorable.”
“And remember when the watermelon exploded? Mainly it’s just water bottles and underwear though,” Chris commented, although most of his attention was devoted to the Wii. Jane scored another point. “Damn. You’re really good at this.”
Jane smiled with satisfaction as if she were complimented every day by a drummer in a rock band. “Thanks. You should see me play Robot Unicorn Attack.”
Jane proudly references her ability to play random computer games. Most people find it geeky. I find it endearing.
It shouldn’t have worked: three boring high school students (and my brush with fame aside, I was still plenty boring) should not have meshed so well with a trio of rock stars even if we were all pretty close in age. I’d initially expected a quick meeting before we were kicked out of the room. Instead, Dominic was telling Jane that he’d kick her butt at Wii bowling later, as if it were obvious we’d all hang out after the show. Tim even programmed our numbers into his cell phone in case we weren’t able to find them in the postconcert insanity. That’s right: one of my favorite rock bands had my cell phone number.
And the real show hadn’t even begun.
R
eadySet knows how to put on a seriously great concert. Corey, Jane, and I were rocking out in the wings to a beat that was pumping fast and hot. Even the air felt like it sizzled, and we weren’t among the throngs. No shoving crowds, no elbows thrust into stomachs, or claustrophobia for us. Just me, my two best friends, and a freaking awesome band who grinned at us between songs … although maybe they were just laughing at our stupid dance moves. Either way, I loved it all.
I’d just taken a sip of water when Tim started talking into the mic.
“Hey, Portland, how’s it going?”
The cheers that erupted made it clear everyone was having a great time.
Tim was sweaty from all the singing and the oppressive heat from the stage lights, but he still looked like a Greek god—if they wore jeans and plaid shirts and played guitars.
“So we just released our CD
Good to Go
last month.”
He had to pause for all the hollering to die down.
“Thanks. And we just made a music video for ‘Going Down’ that um,
features
Mackenzie Wellesley. You’ve all seen it, right?”
The answering set of cheers and hooting had my every muscle tightening. I was dreaming. Tim couldn’t be about to make fun of me
onstage
. He had seemed so nice just a few minutes ago!
“Yeah, it’s a funny video. But I was just hanging out with her backstage, and I have to say, I don’t think the press has done her justice.”
I closed my eyes. Oh, god, he was going to say, “She’s even more socially awkward than YouTube let on. This girl is a total freak!” And then I’d have to curl up in a little ball and die. Maybe I’d get lucky and a stage light would fall on my head.
“She’s not awkward at all, actually. She’s awesome.”
My head snapped up at that. “What?” I said to an equally stunned Jane and Corey. “Did he just say that I’m
awesome?
”
I jumped at the quick bite of pain in my arm. “Ouch!” I glared at Corey, who’d pinched me. Hard.
“Definitely not dreaming.”
“So we’d like Mackenzie to come out onstage and join us for her song.” He smiled and somehow looked even more like Apollo.
“Oh no! No. No,” I muttered frantically. “This isn’t happening.”
I looked past him at the sea of faces … and panicked. I couldn’t stroll out onstage in front of everyone! Not with all those people sizing me up and just
staring
. The applause grew steadily from the audience—and I was screwed.
I wasn’t given a choice. Corey grabbed my arm while I stood rooted to the spot mouthing, “What? No! Wait, WHAT?” and he shoved me past the curtains.
The audience laughed as I wobbled the first few steps in the heels that had officially begun to pinch and hurt. I really wished that my friends were more supportively silent and less throw-her-to-the-lions. My whole body was trembling, and I could feel my legs quiver like an airplane in serious turbulence. I did my best to focus just on Tim’s face, the glinting clear blue eyes, and not all the people behind him.
Dominic pounded out a rhythm as I walked over, something slow and just a little bit sexy. It distracted me enough to look over and catch an amused, cocky smile that did nothing to slow my pulse. He made me smile when he winked reassuringly.
“One, two, three,” Tim counted out, and the band burst into life.
I had absolutely no idea what I should do.
Right next to me, Tim was singing, “You fell like a girl in a looking glass,” and I realized that I did feel like Alice in Wonderland. I was in this whole new world, and I kept shifting from geeky to famous then back to loser status before shooting up once more to popularity. And the people in my life? Yeah, I had plenty of White Rabbits like my brother running around. Only instead of screeching, “I’m late! I’m late!” he said stuff like, “It’s on YouTube! It’s on YouTube!” And just when I started to think:
hmm, maybe I’m getting a handle on this situation,
I’d get quite literally thrust into the spotlight once more.
I stood there. Onstage. Motionless. In the back of my head I was screaming,
Dance, Mackenzie! Sway. Do
something
!
But I couldn’t even manage the simplest of movements. Seriously. Tim was crooning to me, the audience was shouting out encouragement, and all the attention made me blush. I was still standing there like an idiot when Corey rescued me—which was only fair, since it was his fault in the first place. He ran out and swirled me into his arms. I’ve never been more grateful to see a familiar face.
Corey and I had taken a free Argentine tango class with Jane and had quit two months later because the instructor was a creeper who joked about dating teenage girls. I never thought the lessons would actually come in handy. Corey had only convinced me to go by promising it’d be a good extracurricular to add to my college applications.
I never thought I’d
tango
at a concert. Corey led me into a series of slick dance moves as the song played behind us. My body automatically responded to his movements, and I could hear cheering as the audience ate it up. Corey’s heartbeat was erratic, but instead of panicking, he led me into a smooth dip. I was staring into Corey’s eyes and sharing his infectious smile while several thousands of people watched on. Then suddenly the world straightened and I was spun out of his arms and into Tim’s hold.
There I was, plastered against a certified rock star while he sang
my
song, as if there were only the two of us in the world. And when he tilted the microphone toward me, I joined right in. Okay, I’m never going to be on
American Idol,
but I don’t have a bad singing voice. Jane once said it was too sultry, but that was years ago and I think she was jealous because she could never hit a note to save her life.
I saw Tim’s eyes widen in surprise, then focus more intensely while he tightened his hold on me. My surroundings seemed indistinct and blurry around the edges. Those stage lights are no joke. I was practically blinded and could feel the sweat dripping down my back in a not-so-pleasant way. I was actually glad Corey had prodded me into wearing a top that showed more skin, since I was already so boiling hot I expected steam to roll off me in waves.