Rock 'n' Roll Rebel (18 page)

Chapter Forty-Five

“I
think I may have this thing framed,” Tig said. Progress reports had just been handed out a few minutes before the last bell. Tig's had all As except for a B in science. Amazing what she could do when she was motivated.

“Your mom just might frame it,” Kyra said. “My dad said she's been checking your grades every day on the school's Web portal, just to make sure you haven't slipped.”

“Dad's going to be even happier than she is,” Tig replied. “He said that Saturday morning he'd fix us all a big brunch whenever we got up.”

“Belgian waffles?” Kyra asked.

“Depends,” Tig said. “Am I going to be pleased with your progress? And I don't mean your grades.”

“I'm doing my best,” Kyra said. “I can't practice all the time.”

Tig had already quizzed Lee on how difficult Kyra's part would be. He'd said that of all the parts, the bass was easiest, and that Kyra should be able to get it down if she practiced daily.

Before Tig could lecture Kyra about her lack of dedication to her instrument, the bell rang. The two cousins met Olivia, Robbie, and Claire out front at the carpool area. Claire had brought her overnight bag to school and was riding home with Tig, since she was the only one who didn't have to go home and get an instrument. “Come over as soon as you can,” Tig told the other three girls. “Claire and I are ready to get started.”

“Me too,” Robbie said. “Man, I love this song! Such a great riff. I can't wait to crank it out!”

“I've got to get my hair done before we make the video,” Kyra said. “Maybe some highlights right here. What do you think?”

“I think you'd do better to worry more about your bass line and less about your hair,” Tig said.

“Kyra's got a point, though,” Robbie said. “Video is a powerful medium for bands. It's not just about sound; it's about look and image, too.” Robbie got a gleam in her eye as she studied Tig. “Have you ever thought about dyeing your hair?”

“To what?”

“I don't know—pink?”

“Pink hair?” Tig replied. “As if my mom and dad are going to let me get pink hair!”

“There are worse things,” Robbie said. “Besides, now that you've got that shiny new progress report to show them, it might be the best time ever to ask.”

“I am not dyeing my hair pink!”

“Of course you're not,” Robbie said. “Not all of it, anyway.”

“We can figure all this out later,” Claire said. “Right now all I can focus on is that our band is making a
video!”

“You're still doing the video?”

It was Regan.

“Don't even start,” Tig said.

“Claire, you've got to be kidding me,” Regan said. “You're not actually going to be filmed with these losers, are you? It's social suicide!”

“I've already told you, Regan, my friends are not losers.”

“Have it your way,” Regan said. “But once you do this, Claire, I wash my hands of you. If you change your mind before you humiliate yourself, call me. There's still room for you in our group. But once you publicly associate yourself with this band, that door closes. Forever.”

“Do you realize how absurd you sound?” Claire asked. “You can't actually expect to tell people what to do.”

“That's exactly what I expect,” Regan said. “Haley and Sofia and the other girls in our group appreciate my advice.”

“Demands and advice aren't the same thing, Regan!” Claire said. “That's not what friendship is about. Friends are supposed to support one another.”

“Friends are supposed to keep their friends from turning into dorks,” Regan said. “Come on! Look at these people. Do they look like rock stars to you?” She looked each girl up and down, motioning with her hand. When she got to Robbie, with her hot-pink purse, distressed jeans, and a bandanna tied around her ankle, plus plaid high-top tennis shoes with black laces, a bright blue top, razor-layered shiny black hair with the purple streak, and cherry lips, she had little choice but to concede. “Okay, maybe this one.” Robbie couldn't help but smirk. “But look at the other ones. Rock stars? Really? Claire, you're going to look like a fool next to these fools. You already know they can't play, and if you would just watch that YouTube nightmare like I told you to, you'd know they have no stage presence to pull off a music video! As your friend, I simply
have
to intervene.”

“Rubbish!” Claire replied. “Your idea of friendship is turning people into . . . into—”

“The word you're looking for is
Bots
,” Tig said.

“Bots,” Claire said. “I'm sorry, Regan. But I'm not interested in becoming one of your Bots.”

“Suit yourself, then,” Regan said. “Just don't come crying to me when this whole thing blows up in your face. You're sealing your own social destiny.”

When Regan was gone, Tig said, “Don't let her get into your head, y'all.”

But on the car ride home, as Claire made small talk with Tig's mom, Tig did some serious thinking.

Robbie and Kyra had actually made a very good point: the girls didn't look the part yet. And they'd been so busy practicing the song, no one had even thought about stage presence.

It was one thing for Robbie and Kyra to say it, but when Regan made the same point, Tig knew the situation would have to be remedied.

Chapter Forty-Six

T
ig's palms were sweating a little bit when everyone was plugged in, tuned up, and ready to practice the song together for the first time. She had waited for this moment for weeks. Pounding out the backbeat alone day after day, she could hardly wait to hear what it would sound like when they all played together.

She counted off with her sticks, and Robbie cranked the guitar. In seconds Robbie was shredding it, and Tig was practically hopping like a rabbit behind her drum set, excitedly keeping the rhythm fast and hard. Olivia's arrangement was fierce, but Tig had practiced with Lee and with her phone enough times that she was able to keep pace without being distracted by what the other musicians were doing. Kyra kept up fairly well, even on the first run-through, and Claire didn't need any time to warm up—she brought it on the first note.

When the song was over, the girls stared at one another in silence for a moment. “Were we really just as good as I think we were?” Tig asked.

“Woo!” Robbie shouted, throwing a fist in the air. “It's good to be back!”

Not to say that there weren't a few kinks to work out. Kyra took pointers from Robbie without complaint, and they mic'd everyone but Tig to do backup vocals. Even as well as things were going, she was still a little spooked about trying to sing when the weight of keeping the tempo for the whole band rested on her shoulders. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of Kyra's party. Better safe than sorry.

The next few run-throughs were even better. The vocal accompaniment on the chorus gave their cover more depth.

“We sound good!” Kyra said.

“I know,” Olivia agreed. “But it needs something.”

“Olivia's right,” Tig said. “Technically, we've got this. I mean, sure, we've flubbed a few notes here and there, but for our first group practice, I'm beyond stoked. Another week and a half of practice and we'll have it. But like Olivia said, something is missing.”

“What, Tig?” Claire asked. “What do we need?”

“Showmanship,” Tig said.

Robbie nodded.

“One more time from the top,” Tig said. “As soon as I set this up.” She went to the door of the studio and turned her phone to record, propping it up so she could video all of them at once. Then she made her way back behind her drum kit and counted off.

After the song was over, the girls crowded around Tig and watched the video. They looked wooden. Claire was gripping the microphone as if she were hanging on for dear life. Tig could barely be seen, but she knew a close-up would reveal her counting with her mouth as she played. Kyra and Olivia stood there like cutouts. The only one who seemed to be having any fun at all was Robbie, but even she seemed inhibited. “I don't want to be the only one rocking out,” she said.

“Regan actually did us a favor today,” Tig told the girls.

“By insulting us and calling us losers?” Kyra asked.

“Yes, in fact,” Tig said. “Kyra and Robbie were making the same point about image. But when Regan said it, I guess it made me think about how harshly people judge a band based on things that have nothing to do with the music. I've been so worried about our sound that I hadn't even given a second thought to how we look. Even though Regan was just trying to be mean, she was right when she said the only one of us who looks the part is Robbie. Y'all bring your wallets with you?”

They had.

“How much money do you have?” Tig asked.

Olivia had a collection of gift cards from her last birthday, and Claire and Kyra had three weeks' worth of allowance apiece.

“Good. I've saved up a pretty good stash myself.

Let's break for tonight and head to the mall,” Tig said.

“For what?” Olivia asked.

Tig smiled. “Operation rock star, baby!”

Chapter Forty-Seven

T
ig's mom dropped the girls off at the indoor mall, giving them firm instructions to stick together at all times and meet her at the entrance by the department store's shoe department at nine p.m. on the dot.

“Come with me,” Tig said to her bandmates.

The girls followed her through the mall, stopping every few stores to try on clothes and accessories. Robbie found Kyra a white leather vest and cuff earrings with spikes and a stack of neon bracelets. “Do this with your hair,” Robbie told her as Kyra checked herself out in the mirror at the accessories store.
Robbie pulled Kyra's hair back into a big middle poof.

“Seriously?” Kyra asked.

“Do you want to look like a rock star or don't you?”

“Okay, then,” Kyra said.

They finished off her look with leopard shorts, black tights, and ridiculously tall black suede wedges.

For Olivia, they decided on purple jeans and purple heels, a shiny charcoal gray top, and a black fake leather biker jacket.

“Two down,” Robbie said. “Two to go.”

Getting Claire to give up matching scarves and cardigans took some convincing, but they finally settled on a maroon A-line velvet miniskirt with black tights, a white blouse, and a black blazer. Robbie made it rock with combat boots.

“When in doubt, go with combat boots,” she said. “We'll mess up that red hair a little bit and maybe go with a cat eye.”

“Oh my,” Claire said. “This is different, isn't it?”

“Last but not least,” Robbie said to Tig. She took her arm and began pulling her toward a clothing store.

“First things first,” Tig said.

Tig took the girls to a salon.

“I am not cutting my hair!” Olivia said. “My tennis coach can't make me, and neither can you!”

“No way,” Tig said. “Your hair's so long, it's already a statement. We'll put a knit cap or a fedora on you or—I don't know—maybe a cool headband, and you'll be perfect. So you've got the long hair, Robbie's is black and razored, Claire's is red, and Kyra's will be poofed. So the only one left without a look is mousy, little, shoulder-length me.”

“But I have a feeling that's about to change,” Robbie said.

“You guys go grab some ice cream or something,” Tig said. “I'll text you when I'm done.” Tig gave her name to the girl at the counter. There was no wait.

“But, Tig, your mom said for us to stick together,” Olivia said.

“Rock ‘n' roll is all about rebellion,” Tig said. “I'll be fine. I'll text you.”

“Tig, these mall places are hit-or-miss,” Robbie said. “What if they don't do a good job?”

“Then it'll just look all the more rock ‘n' roll, won't it? Besides, I can't afford anywhere fancy. I have a coupon for this place.”

Tig finally convinced her friends to head to the food court without her.

“I'll let you know when I'm done,” she told them. “With any luck, you won't even recognize me.”