Moving Neutral (20 page)

Covering the distance between us in a few steps, she threw a magazine down on the grass next to me. I knew it, she hissed. You thought I was overreacting, but I knew this would happen. She said it directly to Blake, ignoring me for the moment. For an instant, she looked like she might cry. How could you? she whispered, and then stormed away in the direction of the bus.

I looked down at the magazine she’d left behind.

Madison was right -- it was obviously me. It was a photo of me and Blake on the balcony of his hotel room in Chicago, arms around each other, obviously kissing. I was barefoot, wearing an oversized tee-shirt, my brown hair spilling down my back, visible in the light from the room behind us.

It was strange, looking at a photo of a moment I’d thought was so private. It was like looking into a mirror and having no idea who was on the other side.

The photo was blurry, obviously zoomed in to the extent of the camera. And next to me and Blake, there was a photo of April, this one crisp and brightly colored, taken at the pier in Chicago while we were standing in line. But it wasn’t one of the ones she had posed for -- in it, she looked distracted and sad, staring out from the cover with an expression that was full of hurt.

APRIL S HEARTBREAK, the headline read. And then below it: Blake Moves On with Mystery Girl, April Left Abandoned and Alone.

I didn’t want to flip open the story, knowing what it would contain. Photos of Blake and me in line, his arm around me while we waited. April looking at us as if she might drive a knife into Blake’s back at any moment.

We had assumed that we’d seen the photographer before he’d seen us.

I couldn’t imagine what my face must have looked like, but when I glanced over at Blake, he looked stunned. Sophie was staring down at the magazine like she couldn’t believe it, and Jesse was looking in the direction that April had walked away.

Shit, Blake said quietly.

What are you going to do? Sophie asked, her eyes wide.

This is not cool, Blake, Jesse said, looking annoyed. You know how much April cares about this stuff -- it’s humiliating.

I looked at him, realizing he was right. I was worried about my parents seeing the magazine and recognizing me, but April had the whole world recognizing her, thinking she was some jilted lover. But how were we supposed to know that someone could take a picture of the balcony of Blake’s hotel room in the middle of the night?

I threw the magazine into a trash can as we walked back to the bus, no one saying another word until Savannah trailed away behind us.

Derek spent the next day on our bus, huddled with April out of earshot of the rest of us, doing damage control to her ego or devising a plan, I couldn’t tell which. When we got to Jacksonville, the band was scheduled to do a radio interview before the show, but Derek cancelled it from his cell phone when we were half an hour outside of the city.

When we pulled up to the venue, there were a dozen photographers waiting in the parking lot for our bus, and Derek shielded April from the cameras as she walked inside. I wore one of Blake’s hooded sweatshirts and Sophie’s oversized sunglasses, hiding my face with my hands as we walked, hoping that they wouldn’t get me in a photo. But the paparazzi didn’t seem too interested in me -- as soon as April was inside the doors, they seemed to stop paying attention, letting me pass in between Sophie and Jesse without much harassment.

Blake, though, they were interested in. He got off the bus last, and by the time he’d made it inside, he looked exhausted.

They’ll get tired of us in a day or two, he said to me, attempting to sound reassuring. Let’s hope Lindsey Lohan gets arrested or something.

I tried to smile.

That night, after the show, April came into the green room with a determined look. I was unwrapping a jolly rancher, and as she started to speak, my hands paused on the wrapper to stop it from crinkling.

There’s something I want to talk to you guys about, she said. I looked at Blake, as if to ask if I should leave, but April stopped me. Stay, Casey, she said. You’re part of this too, now.

Derek appeared at the door, watching us without saying a word.

What is it? Sophie asked, her voice sounding nervous.

April took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. Since my public image is a big part of this band, I think after today, it’s pretty clear that something needs to be done.

No one said anything for a moment, and then Blake spoke up. What can we possibly do? he asked. Besides just wait for this to blow over?

I want us to do the television show, she said seriously, as if she’d given it some thought. I want some control over how I’m being talked about.

So do an interview, Blake said, his teeth clenched. Tell them we were never dating in the first place -- it’d be nice if someone finally would.

April, Sophie said quietly. This isn’t that big a deal, everyone’s going to forget all about it in a couple of days.

It’s not just about that, April said. The show is what’s going to take the band to the next level, not the next album or another tour.

The next level of what? Blake said, sounding annoyed. You want us to get famous for doing nothing, is that it? Forget about the music, right?

April looked at him coolly, ignoring his question. Think about it, guys. This is a major opportunity. I want a decision when we get back to L.A.

She left the room without another word, and Derek left behind her. No one said anything for a while. I wanted to let Blake, Sophie and Jesse talk about it in private, but I didn’t want to call more attention to my presence by moving.

She’ll calm down, Jesse said, not looking certain at all. I mean, what’s she going to do if you guys won’t do it?

Blake turned to him, surprised. You want to do it?

I haven’t decided yet, Jesse said. It could be a really good move, you know? Those shows get a ton of attention. But listen, he said, looking at Blake. Don’t do it just because of this magazine thing, okay? We all know that’s going to blow over. You should do it because you want to go in this direction, not because April is guilting you into it.

Jesse said in this direction like it was something that was already settled.

Everyone else left to get changed before we got back on the bus, and Blake and I sat alone in the room, on opposite sides of one of the couches.

She wants to be famous just for the sake of being famous, Blake said. Do you think Bob Dylan ever cared whether or not he was famous? Do you think Jimmy Page would have done a reality show?

Well, Bret Michaels did one, I joked, trying to lighten his mood. Actually, I think he did four.

Gee, he said. Thanks, Case. Now I feel a lot better.

I wanted to tell Blake how much I believed in him, how I’d loved their music ever since I’d played their album for the first time sophomore year of high school, how I got to the last song and started the whole thing over again, listening to it again and again for days until I’d learned every word. But I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I’d lied to him from the moment we’d met.

You’ll figure it out, I said, but it sounded hollow, even to me.

Blake was right about one thing. By the time we got to New Orleans, two stars of a popular television show had eloped in Vegas, and there were only a couple of cameraman waiting for the bus as we pulled into the venue.

It was funny, to watch firsthand how fast and fleeting their moment in the limelight was, something I barely would have noticed in magazines if it hadn’t involved my favorite band. Or if it hadn’t involved me.

My parents didn’t call Madison, so I assumed they hadn’t seen the photos. But each time I checked my email, I expected to see a response from them, and it didn’t come. Maybe they were still angry, now that they knew I was okay. Maybe they’d just stopped caring by now.

April was barely talking to Blake or to me. The moment the crew finished adjusting the vocals for the show, she left through a side door to check into the hotel.

We were in New Orleans for two days, and then Austin. I hoped she’d cool down before we had several more days stuck in the bus on our way to Los Angeles.

We had a few hours before the show, and Jesse, Sophie and I decided to walk around the French Quarter. One of the roadies told the photographers that April had already left, and Jesse happily reported that they gave up waiting for us soon afterwards. We walked out the front door without any attention, into the hot and muggy Louisiana air. By the time we were a block or two away from the theater, none of us were thinking about April or the show.

We walked down the street, hearing loud music drifting out of most of the bars we passed, every building’s doors and windows open wide. All the people we passed seemed to be about college aged, and no one gave us a second look.

What do you want to do, birthday boy? I asked Blake.

It was July twenty second. My first day of freshman orientation was almost four weeks away. And it was also the day that Blake turned twenty.

He shrugged, stopping at a street performer to listen for a minute. Whatever, he said, reluctantly drawing himself away.

We passed a drunken looking group of guys in their twenties, hollering across the street to each other as they sipped from brightly colored plastic cups in the middle of the road. They called hello to Sophie and me as we walked past, and we ignored them.

Gross, she said under her breath, and I nodded.

Let’s just go somewhere and sit down, Blake suggested, not paying attention to them.

We picked a restaurant with outdoor tables and sat down, ordering sandwiches from a hefty waitress in her thirties with jet black hair. Blake and Jesse asked for beers, and I wondered if he would be annoyed if we sang happy birthday at the end of the meal.

It took a long time for the sandwiches to come, and after a few minutes of sitting in near-silence, Jesse brought up April’s ultimatum.

What are you going to do? he asked Blake, fiddling with the napkin dispenser in the center of the table.

Blake sighed. I guess you’ve made up your mind? he said to Jesse.

I mean, April’s right that if we want to break out, this is a quick and easy way to do it, Jesse replied. It’s a big opportunity.

Well, it’s quick and easy, I’ll give you that, Blake said, hiding his grimace by lifting the glass to his lips. Soph? What do you think?

I don’t know, she said. It could be fun, I guess.

Jesse looked relieved. Right, he chimed in. And we’d all be doing it together -- it could totally be fun.

No one had asked my opinion, and honestly, I didn’t really care. If Blake wanted to do the show, I would have been all for it -- but it didn’t seem like he wanted to do it, so I didn’t see why everyone was trying so hard to talk him into it.

The waitress returned with four enormous sandwiches, each big enough for two of us. The bread was crunchy on the outside, and they were filled with heaping portions of fried shrimp and catfish. Blake and Jesse ordered two more beers.

Casey, Jesse said suddenly, as if remembering I was there. When do you start school?

I don’t know if I’m even enrolled, I thought to myself. But that was the last thing I wanted Blake to know about -- he’d drag me, kicking and screaming, to the airport, thinking it was best for me that way. I figured I’d add it to the rapidly growing list of things I’d lied to him about.

Thanks, Jesse, I said sarcastically. That’s my second favorite discussion topic, right after the reality show. You’re on a roll today.

Blake laughed, breaking the tension for a moment.

Four weeks, I said, not even.

Sophie looked like I’d just told her there was no Santa Claus. I would miss her almost as much as I’d miss Blake. It was so easy to forget that this summer wouldn’t last forever.

Do you have to pack and all that stuff?

I guess, I said. I’ve been trying not to think about it. I don’t even have, like, bedsheets. And I’m sure the first thing my parents are going to want to do when I get home is take me shopping.

Blake looked at me with a guilty expression, and I rubbed his knee under the table. I was nothing but grateful for this summer -- even if it meant I had to show up for the first day of college without a toothbrush. If I even showed up at all.

Sophie responded, her voice sympathetic. They will, though. I’m sure it’ll be fine. How long can it take to buy sheets and some towels, anyways?

I nodded, trying to think of a way to change the subject. Scanning the restaurant, I noticed a jukebox in the back of the dining room. Fumbling in my pocket for quarters, I announced that I was going to put on some songs.

Walking inside, I noticed a table full of the same guys we’d seen out in the street. They stared at me as I walked past, and I looked down at the floor until I was well beyond their table. When I got to the jukebox, I deliberately turned away from them, pressing the button to flip through the album covers.

Still, I wasn’t surprised when one of them tapped me on the shoulder. Turning around, I realized the guy was about eight inches taller than me, and probably eighty pounds heavier. He was looking at me with an excited, drunk-looking expression on his face.