Girl vs. Boy Band (13 page)

“Decorating, hmm?” Lark grinned. “Can I see?”

Mimi sighed and rolled her eyes. “Okay . . . go ahead.”

Lark opened the locker and wasn't surprised to see that Mimi had printed out one of the pictures of Ollie she'd taken over the weekend. It was a great shot of him holding his guitar. “I had a feeling,” she said, giggling. “It's an awesome photo.”

Mimi smiled. “Well, it would be hard to take a
bad
picture of Oliver. He's gorgeous. But it's more than just his looks. He's so funny. And so talented! And that accent is adorable. He's, like, the perfect guy.”

Lark gave her friend a serious look. “You know he's fifteen, right?” she said gently. “I mean, it's okay to have a crush and all, but he's a lot older than you are.”

“Oh, I know,” said Mimi lightly. “But it's fun to . . . ya know . . . daydream.”

Lark certainly couldn't argue with that. She'd been daydreaming about Teddy Reese since the day she first laid eyes on him.

“How's Oliver's cheek?” Mimi asked. “Is there a mark? And Aidan's nose? Is it still swollen?”

As the girls made their way toward their first-period classes, Lark filled her friend in on Aidan's latest escapade. Mimi was appalled, although pleased to hear that a blogger was sharing her footage of the band.

“That could have been a disaster,” she said as they reached the junction of the science hall and the foreign language corridor. This was where they parted ways every morning, Mimi heading off to French class and Lark to chem lab. Ordinarily, they'd meet up again at lunch, but today the whole school would enjoy an abbreviated schedule to accommodate the International Fair festivities.

“Meet me at the origami booth,” Mimi said, dashing off down the hall. “Trevor Yoshida promised me his grandma would teach me how to make a tiny movie camera out of folded paper.”

“I think he might be pulling your leg!” Lark called after her. “But okay!”

The first three classes of the day were basically useless. Everyone was either excited to get to the caf-a-gym-a-torium to sample the tacos and eggrolls and baklava, or else they were worrying about the presentations they had to deliver
about
those tacos and eggrolls and baklava. Emma DiGiorgio, Lark's lab partner, was slated to give a talk about how to make the perfect antipasto, and the thought of it had her so distracted, she nearly burned off the end of her ponytail with the Bunsen burner. “What if I mispronounce ‘prosciutto'?” she whispered to Lark. “What if I forget to mention that the anchovies are optional?
Always
optional!”

Finally, it was time for the International Fair to begin. As Lark filed into the space with the rest of her classmates, she caught an image of Alessandra Drake . . . wearing a tiara!

“What's that about?” she whispered to Emma.

“Alessandra claims she can trace her ancestry all the way back to fourteenth-century British nobility.”

Lark frowned. “Does that make her a royal?”

“Yeah,” said Emma with a grin. “A royal pain in the butt.”

“Hey, Lark!” came Mimi's voice from across the room.

Lark wished Emma luck on her presentation, and headed through the crowd to where Mimi was waiting at the Japanese origami exhibit.

“Wow,” said Lark, taking in the magical sight of miniature paper cranes and swans. “These are amazing!”

“Turns out there's no such thing as an origami camera after all,” Mimi huffed. “You were right. Trevor was just joking with me.”

Lark smiled. “Maybe he just wanted to be sure you stopped by his booth. Maybe he likes you.”

“Ya think?” Mimi beamed. “Well, he's no Oliver Wesley, but he
is
kinda cute.” She picked up two squares of paper and handed one to Lark. “Let's give it a shot.”

Taking their cue from Baba Yoshida, the girls carefully folded the sheets of colored paper into delicate angular designs. Mimi, ever the creative one, produced a perfect pink horse, but Lark's neon-green bunny rabbit was hopelessly lopsided.

Their next stop was Emma's booth, where they sampled delicious little cannolis from her nonno's Italian bakery. Then they enjoyed a brief demonstration of Indian dance, performed by Alia Chopra and her two older sisters.

“Her costume is beautiful,” Lark whispered, admiring Alia's jangly bangles and wristlets, and her shimmering satin pants embroidered with golden thread.

“She's so graceful,” Mimi noted. “And their dresses look amazing when they spin around.”

Lark knew her friend well enough to know that Mimi was already planning to ask Alia if she could film her doing one of these traditional dances.

When the dance performance was over, Lark and Mimi moved on, following their noses toward the most delicious aroma in the whole gym.

Gingerbread!

“Whose stall is this?” Mimi wondered aloud, sidling up to the table that held platters piled high with gingerbread cookies. Some were cut in the shapes of little boys and girls, others were heart-shaped, but all of them looked equally yummy.

Someone's grandma, a pretty, white-haired woman in glasses, sat primly behind the gingerbread table, offering tubes of squeezable icing to her many eager cookie samplers.

“Do we really have to waste time decorating them?” Mimi joked. “Can't we just go straight to eating them?”

“It'll be fun,” said Lark, accepting a tube of pink icing and choosing a large, heart-shaped cookie.

Mimi chose a gingerbread man and got busy icing his head with a sugary mass of yellow hair. Next, she dotted the face with two blue eyes.

Lark giggled. “Did you seriously just decorate that cookie to look like Ollie?”

Mimi nodded. “Not that I had to. The real Oliver is sweet enough.”

Lark positioned her icing tube over her cookie. She willed herself not to inscribe it with the initials “L.C.” and “T.R.” Instead, she wrote her name in pink loopy script. Then she nibbled off the pointy bottom and let out a sigh of absolute delight.

“How's it taste?” asked Mimi, unable to bring herself to chomp into cookie-Ollie's head.

“It tastes . . . ,” said Lark, letting the spicy sweetness fill her mouth, “like a Christmas carol.”

“What a wonderful compliment,” the grandma said. “I've never had my baking compared to music before.” She peered through her glasses at the pink writing on Lark's cookie.

“Lark?” she read. “Are you Lark Campbell?”

The question took Lark by surprise. She'd never met this woman before, so there was no reason for her to know Lark's last name. But she answered with a polite, “Yes, ma'am,” before taking another bite of her cookie.

“Oh!” cried the woman, reaching out her dainty hand to shake. “I've heard so much about you from my grandson.”

Lark wanted to ask who her grandson was, but her mouth was filled with cookie. She didn't have to wonder long, because in the next moment, a voice behind her was saying, “Hey, Gran. Looks like your cookies are going down well.”

Lark turned to see Teddy Reese approaching the gingerbread booth. He leaned down to kiss his grandma on the cheek. Then he turned back to Lark, who was discreetly attempting to brush the cookie crumbs from her lips and chin.

“Eat up,” he advised with a grin. “You need plenty of energy for our rehearsal this afternoon.”

Lark desperately wanted to offer a cute response, but if she attempted to gulp down her enormous mouthful of cookie, she'd probably choke to death. Fortunately, she was saved from having to speak by the squeal of feedback over the caf-a-gym-a-torium's loudspeaker.

“May I have your attention, please,” boomed Principal Hardy's cheerful voice. “Boys and girls, family and friends, attention, please.”

It was a moment before the din died down. Lark took the opportunity to swallow hard and offer Teddy a shy smile. Then she turned to the stage at the far end of the room, where the principal stood holding a portable microphone. Behind Principal Hardy, the stage curtain opened and Lark saw that there were three mike stands, an electronic keyboard, and a drum kit.

A feeling of dread shot through her.
Oh, no. OH, NO
 . . .

“In addition to all the wonderful food and fascinating cultural exhibits you've been enjoying,” the principal announced, “we have a big surprise for you. Thanks to one of our students, today, for the first time ever on American soil, a brand-new British rock band is going to perform their as-yet-unreleased new song. Isn't it fitting that on this day when we celebrate different nations around the globe, we get to enjoy a true
world
premiere!”

Immediately, murmurs filled the gym. Kids were whispering, making guesses as to who might be performing. And, of course, wondering which of their classmates had been cool enough to bring in a rock band for the International Fair.

Lark, of course, didn't have to wonder. Because she knew.

To her horror, the principal stepped aside and suddenly Donna Campbell was at one of the microphones. Lark's stomach flipped over, threatening to bring up her gingerbread cookie.
No! No, no, no. Mama, why?

“Are you okay?” Teddy asked.

“Not really,” Lark replied.

“Hello, everyone,” said Donna, beaming around at the curious crowd. “I'm Lark Campbell's mother.”

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Hundreds of pairs of eyes began to search the room. Lark heard a few students asking, “Who's Lark Campbell?” while others whispered, “Never heard of her,” which made Lark want to crawl under the gingerbread table and hide.

“I am very happy to present,” Lark's mother continued brightly, “all the way from London, the hottest new British export . . . Abbey Road!” She turned to the wings and waved the boys onto the stage. Aidan slunk to the keyboard, looking moody. Max seemed friendly and focused as he took his place at the drum set. And Ollie, ever the front man, was working the crowd—waving and smiling before he'd played a single note on his guitar.

The mood in the caf-a-gym-a-torium shifted from mildly interested to full-on anticipation. Girls were gasping and giggling, boys were hollering and clapping. Everything about the three Brits on stage said “cool,” and it didn't hurt that they were gorgeous.

“Hello, Ronald Reagan Middle School!”

A cheer went up as what seemed like the entire student body rushed the stage. Lark saw Ollie throw Max a grin; they were totally in their element!

“We're Abbey Road,” Ollie said, “and it's awesome to be here! We're going to play our soon-to-be-released new single ‘Dream of Me,' and we really hope you like it!”

There were more shouts and applause as Ollie counted his bandmates in. The infectious intro had everyone bouncing, and eight counts later, Ollie's voice filled the gym.

“
Do you dream of me when the nights are long? When the world is dark, do you hear this song
 . . .”

Mimi, who had probably listened to “Dream of Me” a zillion times since Saturday, was singing along at the top of her lungs. She knew every word by heart. Lark did, too, but she wasn't exactly in a sing-along mood.

Suddenly, Alessandra Drake was at Lark's side. “You
know
them?” she demanded.

“Um . . . well . . .” Lark had to blink against the glare of Lady Drake's tiara.

“Oh, she doesn't just
know
them,” Mimi interjected smugly. “She
lives
with them.”

“You
live
with them?” Alessandra said incredulously.

“You live with
them
?” Teddy repeated.

But whereas Alessandra's tone had been one of complete and utter disbelief, Teddy hadn't sounded as if he doubted it at all. If anything he sounded a little . . . 
jealous
, as if he didn't particularly like the thought of these three guys being around Lark twenty-four/seven. This sent a shiver up her spine, and for a moment Lark forgot her anger at Donna for springing this very unwelcome surprise on her.

“Lark's mother is their manager,” Mimi explained. “So they're living in Lark's house, which means she gets to eat all her meals with them and even rehearse with them. And I'm sort of the unofficial in-house videographer, so I do, too. And they even asked us to be their backup dancers.” The unspoken
Take that, Alessandra
seemed to sizzle in the air.

The song had reached the chorus, and kids were singing along. When “Dream of Me” ended, the whole gym erupted into raucous applause. All except Teddy and Lark, who clapped politely.

And then, Alessandra Drake—tiara and all—turned to Lark with the broadest, chummiest smile Lark had ever seen.

“O-M-G,” she gushed, placing her hand on Lark's arm as if they'd been best friends since birth. “You totally should invite me over to your house so I can meet them.”

Mimi let out a snort. “Fat chance,” she grumbled, but in the tumult of cheering and screaming, the comment went unheard. In the next second, Alessandra had dashed off to join the starstruck mob.

“Was it my imagination,” said Mimi dryly, “or was she actually drooling?”

But Lark wasn't in the mood for jokes. Her stomach had begun to roil again as her mother returned to the stage.
What next? A PowerPoint presentation of my baby pictures?

“So, what do you think, kids?” her mother asked. “Have we got a hit on our hands?”

The crowd roared, then roared even louder when Max made a dazzling show of twirling his drumsticks. He looked like some old-time western gunslinger spinning his pistols before a shoot-out. Lark's mom allowed the thunderous ovation to go on for another full minute, then motioned for the crowd to settle down.

“Does anyone have any questions for the boys?” she asked.

Hands shot up all over the room.