Girl vs. Boy Band (21 page)

Lark wanted to argue with him. She wanted to remind him that even though they still hadn't replaced Aidan, the band had a bright future. She wanted to talk him out of going back to the places and people he loved, but she knew that would make her the world's biggest hypocrite.

Because it was exactly what she wanted to do.

“I'd go with you,” she said, “if it would get me out of singing tomorrow night.”

“Stop. You're going to be brilliant.” He gave her a grin. “I used to get nervous when we started out, but I came up with the perfect cure for stage fright.”

Lark rolled her eyes. “I bet you're going to tell me you pictured the audience in their underwear, right?”

“Nope. I pictured the audience in
my
underwear. Much weirder!”

“Ewww!” Lark laughed.

“Quite. So you just go out there and imagine the whole crowd turned out in your knickers. Just be sure they wash them before they give 'em back.”

“Gross!”

“Totes. But look, you aren't scared anymore, are you?”

“Well, I'm not scared
now
,” Lark conceded. “But I can't say for sure it's going to last until tomorrow night.”

Max's eyes turned serious. “I'll tell you what. If you promise me you'll try your very best on that stage tomorrow night, I'll stick around a little longer . . .”

He held out his smartphone. On the screen was an e-ticket to Heathrow.

Lark felt tears prickle behind her eyes. “Max . . . no.”

“Sorry, Lark. I'm just not sure we're ever going to find someone to take Aidan's place.”

“But I've found someone!”

“Who?”

She smiled. “Teddy!”

Suddenly, Max was smiling, too. “You know, he might just work.”

“He
will
work,” Lark insisted. “I've just got to get Mom on board. I'm sure she'll be all for it as soon as she sees him perform.”

“Which can't happen unless you perform with him,” Max pointed out. “So let's get you inside before you catch a cold. Can't have you harmonizing with a nose full of boogers!”

“Ewww!”

“Exactly.”

As they made their way back to the house, Max took Lark's hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “You know, if I can't have my kid sister around to torture over boyfriends and boogers and dirty knickers, I'm really glad I have you to tease.”

It didn't sound like much of a compliment, but in her heart Lark knew it was one of the sweetest ones she'd ever heard.

Despite Max's advice, on Friday Lark was right back to where she'd started on the stage fright scale. She was relieved when Teddy suggested they cancel rehearsal to rest their voices for that night's performance.

At home she tried to nap, but the best she could manage was a fitful half sleep, in which she dreamed of being laughed off the stage by a bunch of strangers wearing pink camisoles and white cotton panties!

Finally, it was time to get ready for the show. Mimi came over to help Lark with her makeup. This was a treat, since Donna normally only allowed Lark to wear pastel lip gloss on the weekends. Mimi kept it simple, with just enough smoky eye shadow, blush, and lipstick to keep Lark from looking invisible onstage.

Not that she wouldn't have loved a little invisibility right about now.

When Mimi had completed what she called her “masterpiece,” they went downstairs to join Donna and the boys in the foyer.

“Blimey!” said Max.

“You look stunning,” said Ollie. “If I didn't know you, I'd think you were at least fifteen. Maybe even sixteen.”

“Which is why she's not usually allowed to wear makeup,” said Donna pointedly. Her tone was stern, but she was smiling. “You look beautiful, baby girl. Mimi, excellent job. I'll see you all in the—what do you call it? The gym-a-caf-a-brary-playground-atorium?”

“Close enough,” joked Mimi. “Your seats are right next to my parents'. Third row, center.”

“Wait,” said Lark, panicking. “Mama, aren't you driving us?”

“Mrs. Fitzpatrick will take you,” said Donna, kissing the top of Lark's head. “I've got to, um, I've got a meeting. But it's on the way. So don't worry, I'll be there in plenty of time to hear you sing.”

Hearing Lark sing had never been the point. It was Teddy her mother needed to hear. And because he'd signed up early, he'd be performing early in the show, unlike Lark, who'd be last.

Car keys jangling, Donna wished Lark good luck and hurried out the door.

Lark thought she might cry.

“Okay,” said Mimi. “Let's be sure we've got everything we need. Video? Check. Guitar? Check. Wardrobe change? Check.”

“Barf bag?” said Ollie, holding up a small pink gift bag.

“You're not helping,” Mimi scolded.

“It's not really a barf bag,” said Max, as Ollie handed the present to Lark. “It's a little something from Ollie and me. To let you know that we're up on the stage with you in spirit.”

Hands shaking, Lark reached into the bag beneath the tissue paper and removed her gift—a tiny pin of the British flag.

“Guys! This is so sweet.” Lark handed the pin to Mimi, who fastened it to Lark's sweater. “Thanks. I love it.”

“Knock 'em dead, kid!” said Ollie. “You're gonna be great!”

Then Mrs. Fitzpatrick was honking the horn in the driveway.

It was time to go!

CHAPTER

TWENTY

According to the student-council members who were handing out programs at the door, this was shaping up to be one of the most highly attended talent shows Ronald Reagan Middle School had ever had.

“Just my luck,” Lark had grumbled.

Mimi guided her to the dressing area backstage, gave her an encouraging high five, then went off to consult with the tech crew about loading up her video.

This left Lark and her guitar case alone with the ballerinas, the tuba players, the rhythmic gymnasts . . . and Howie Dornbaum, the magician. Her knees were shaking and her stomach felt like someone had fed her pterodactyls for lunch.

Principal Hardy, who was acting as emcee for the evening, was making her way to the stage.

This is it.
Lark's heart began to rapidly beat in her chest.

“Hey. Great outfit.”

She turned to see Teddy approaching across the dressing area. He looked flat-out adorable in his loose-fitting jeans, plain white T-shirt, and desert boots.

“Thanks,” Lark managed to choke out. “You look good, too.”

“Want to check out the competition from the wings?” he asked with a crooked grin. “See what we're up against?”

“Um . . . okay. Sure.”

It took a moment to get her wobbly legs moving, but Lark picked up her guitar and followed Teddy down the hall to the stage entrance. Quietly, they positioned themselves in the shadows in time to hear the principal announcing the first act.

“Please give a warm welcome to Christina Li, who will be playing ‘Ode to Joy' on the cello.”

The crowd applauded as Christina took the stage, lit only by the soft glow of the footlights.

Her performance was flawless.

As the audience cheered, Lark peeked around the curtain to scan the sea of folding chairs. She gasped when she saw that every seat—stretching from the stage all the way to the back wall of the caf-a-gym-a-torium—was filled.

Make that
almost
every seat.

She spotted Max and Ollie sitting right next to Mimi's family in the third row. But next to them there appeared to be a gaping hole, a canyon of emptiness. Two unfilled seats.

She guessed that one of them belonged to one of Mimi's many aunts or uncles, who must have slipped out to use the restroom.

The second empty seat, of course, was her mother's.

Miserable, Lark stepped aside to allow Christina and her giant cello room to pass, then watched as the next act took the stage, dressed in gauzy harem pants and clacking finger cymbals.

“Please welcome the girls' intramural volleyball team,” said Principal Hardy, “who will be performing a Bollywood-style dance routine.” She smiled. “Or perhaps I should say Volley-wood?”

A smattering of laugher rippled through the crowd.

Unlike Christina's string solo, the dancers required more than just the footlights. When the spotlights went on, flooding the stage with dazzling glare, Lark could no longer see the audience.

The music swelled and the volleyball players began to stomp their feet.

“Not bad,” said Teddy.

By the fifth act, Lark had decided that all middle school talent shows could be summed up in two words: “Who knew?”

For example, who knew that Dennis Breerly could yodel? Or that Samantha Pratt was an accomplished puppeteer? Who knew that Alex Waylon, sporting satin knee breeches and a three-corner hat, could recite the entire Declaration of Independence from memory? Mr. Saunders underscored the moment by playing a soft rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner” on the piano. Unfortunately, the patriotic music only served to remind Lark about her Fourth of July fiasco . . .

“We're next,” said Teddy. “How do you feel?”

Nauseated. Petrified.
“Excellent!”

The stage crew set up a tall stool for Lark and a standing mike for Teddy.

“Now we'll hear from Teddy Reese, singing an original composition entitled ‘Midnight,'” Principal Hardy announced. “He will be accompanied on guitar by Lark Campbell.”

Lark stepped squinting onto the brightly lit stage and took her place on the stool. She heard Ollie and Max cheering, but the glare of the spotlights made it impossible to see if perhaps, by some miracle, her mother had arrived during the previous performance. The audience just looked like a massive, writhing silhouette without discernable faces.

Terror welled up and Lark's whole body trembled.

I want to go home.

She closed her eyes.

But it wasn't an auditorium filled with underwear-clad strangers she envisioned behind her eyelids. It was her tiny backyard in Tennessee, with the slanted swing set and the rosebay rhododendron sprouting blooms like pink ruffles on a little girl's party dress. She saw her old bike propped against the dogwood tree. She saw dew on the grass and a skittering of clouds over the distant hilltops.

The peacefulness of the memory calmed her.

Her fingers settled themselves on the strings.

Just. Play.

Lark strummed, and the notes of Teddy's song—which, thanks to their collaboration, had gone from being really good to beyond excellent—rose out of her instrument like mist billowing over the Smoky Mountains. Music filled the air as Teddy began to sing. When he reached the refrain, she heard her own voice, clear and confident, blending with his.

When Teddy finished singing, the crowd exploded into shouts and cheers.

The performance had been perfect. Lark had managed to stay conscious. And Teddy had just proved that he had more than enough talent to make Abbey Road whole again.

The problem was that Donna hadn't been there to see it.

In the wings, Teddy caught Lark in a hug and spun her around. “You were incredible!”

“No,
you
were! You were amazing.”

Teddy laughed. “Thanks. But I couldn't have done it without you, Lark. It's over now, so you can relax and enjoy.” He eyed the stage, where a sixth-grade boy was making horrible noises on a bagpipe. “Well, you can enjoy whatever
that
is!”

“Actually,” said Lark, “it's not over. I signed up to sing a solo. I'm the last act.”

“Seriously? You're going to sing?”

“That's the plan.”

“I'm really impressed.” His eyes searched hers. “What made you brave enough to face your fears like this?”

“You,” Lark answered truthfully. “I wanted my mother to hear you sing because . . . because I thought you would be the perfect person to replace Aidan in Abbey Road. Telling her I was going to sing solo was the only way I could convince her to come to the show.”