Breakout (20 page)

Something like that is what it’s like trying to sing and play guitar at the same time.

But after about five times through, things finally start to lock in. It’s like I’m able to create this space between my throat and my hands, like separate channels getting carved out in my brain, so that my hands are doing their thing and my voice is doing its thing.

When Killer G finally feels solid, we move on to Flying Aces, but then my hands and voice get mixed up again. After a couple more tries, I get them under control and then I can focus on singing, on the build to the end, to the triumphant moment … except today I have to fake it with Ms. Rosaz’s words.

I can’t quite get myself or these fake words to a scream like I did on the recording, mainly because I’m still concentrating on the singing and playing at once, but also because without the f-bombs, the song just doesn’t have that same feeling. It’s disappointing, but I remember that it
will
, when we do it live.

A few more runs and the whole song starts to work, beginning to end, and I can really see how great this will be with the
real
lyrics onstage live. We are starting to sound good and like the Rusty Soles again, like blowing that sentry post and landing on the other side of the ravine in a rain of flames and rubble.
Boom!
Victory.

When practice is over, Mr. Darren nods approvingly. “Well, I have to say, Anthony, that was very well done for your first attempt. I could feel you locking in.”

“Yeah, good job,” Keenan says, and I can tell he means it.

“Nice job, Anthony,” says Valerie, and for the first time all week she smiles at me, but it’s quick and then she’s on her way out. I want to catch up to her but I still have to pack up and she’s moving too fast.

“Anthony, I meant it,” Mr. Darren says as I put Merle away. “That was good stuff today. I’m really glad you decided to change the lyrics. It would be a shame not to play the show.”

“What choice did I have?” I mutter, and that’s mainly to play along at this point, but I also say, “Thanks,” which I mean.

“I know that meeting was tough,” says Mr. Darren. “I could probably tell you that compromise is a huge part of being in a band, or anything in life, really, but I don’t want to sound like I’m preaching. Still, though, sometimes it’s about doing what it takes for the larger goal, and in this case, that’s live playing experience. So well done. Have a good weekend.”

“Thanks, you too,” I say, and now I want to leave quick. Even though the plan is working to perfection, this conversation is waking up the guilty feeling inside, because even though Mr. Darren will be safe next week, what if he’s really disappointed in us? That might kinda suck. “Good luck with your show tonight,” I say as we’re walking out.

“Oh yeah.” Mr. Darren kinda laughs but his face falls a little too. “Just living the dream, you know.”

On the way home I think about that last thing Mr. Darren said.

Living the dream
.

“Maybe he won’t be disappointed,” I say to Keenan.

“But we’ll get kicked out of his class,” says Keenan.

“Well, that part might upset him, but I mean, maybe he’ll actually be secretly proud of us for going after the dream. He probably wishes he was in our place.”

“He did like the original lyrics when he heard them,” says Keenan.

I like that idea better than thinking he’ll be disappointed. A lot better.

Friday is a weird day because nothing really happens. I have this feeling all day like anticipation, but no one says anything to me about the song, though there are still lots of knowing smiles, and the play count climbs steadily on BandSpace. After school Keenan and I walk home just the two of us because Skye and Katie and Meron are raising money for Winky.

My parents don’t hassle me.

Everything is fine.

So why do I feel like I’m frying inside? After dinner, I don’t feel like practicing and so I just put on some SilentNoize nice and loud and get on
LF
. Keenan’s not there because his aunt and uncle are over for dinner, so I replay some old levels and try to improve my kill-efficiency stats.

I’m in the middle of this when a friend request pops up on my phone.

It’s Valerie. Her profile picture is her hand holding a really cool shell at the beach.

I pause
LF
and just stare at the request for a minute. This timing seems weird. I didn’t talk to her today, and combined with how she feels about the song, I figured that our brief whatever-that-was where we were sort of acting like we liked each other was over. Maybe not?

I accept the request, debate whether to write anything on her page, but then decide to get back to the game.

A few minutes later, a chat pops up.

Valerie again.

I pause again and stare at this too. Weird. My first thought is that maybe she’s changed her mind about the song. Maybe she just needed some time to get to know it better.

I watch the screen, but there’s no response. After a while I start scrolling through updates. I wonder if she’s gone. Or maybe writing some sort of apology?

Or not.

The pause lasts like ten seconds.

I feel like it’s sort of cool or defiant to be saying that. Also my chest feels tight.

I want to tell her that her parents are being ridiculous.

I don’t know what to say. I’ve been seeing everything that’s happened with “Breakout” as being the beginning of our dream, the one that goes all the way to New York, but Valerie is making it sound like this is the
end
of the dream, or at least the end of her version. Which means she had a version,
which is cool, except that it was different, and … Ugh!

I can’t make sense of any of this!

I feel stuck, like there’s more I want to say. Like that I’m sorry, but I’m not, am I?

But the screen blinks:
Valerie is offline
.

I sit there for a minute trying to figure out what I think. I feel mad, but I’m not sure why. I thought we’d be doing Valerie a favor because she gets her first gig and doesn’t get in trouble. But now I feel like we’re taking her band away. I’d never thought of it as her band, just as her being part of our band.

And that makes me wonder if we’re doing the right thing.

But aren’t we? And why should she get a say in my song?

Or is it our song?

A message pops up on my computer:
You there soldier
?

It’s Keenan. I jump on and together we move on to Level 22 of
LF
. The game shifts to a movie scene explaining that our GIs have been reassigned to help the 10th Mountain Division
push back the Axis in the Italian Alps. This is just an excuse for the game makers to design a skiing assault level, which I think doesn’t make a whole lot of sense with actual history, but whatever, it’s cool.

And it keeps me from thinking about Valerie. I don’t know what to do with this feeling I have that I am letting her down, disappointing her. I don’t feel like she should have a say, but also I do. But so many people like the song and believe in it. If she doesn’t, if she thinks we should change it to please others, to be safe and boring and not offend anyone, or even because of that stuff she said about the f-word, that’s her problem, isn’t it?

She’s a good drummer, though.

And a pretty cool person.

Different than me. Different than Skye.

I don’t know what to do with it.

Ski down ravines and blow up stuff, probably, and Keenan and I are up until almost three a.m. until we finally crack the level. I wonder if it’s just the action that’s keeping him awake, or if his nerves are firing too.