Girl vs. Boy Band (19 page)

The kitchen smelled of melted chocolate mixed with warm butter and sugar. The counters were cluttered with half-empty egg cartons and cans of baking powder, and there was a cooling rack on the center island that held at least two dozen cookies.

Lark smiled; she'd picked a good day to invite someone over.

“Mrs. Fitzpatrick?”

The housekeeper didn't look up from the counter, where she was rolling out more cookie dough. “Yes, dear?”

“Um . . . I was wondering if my friend and I could have a snack?”

“No need to be shy! Since when do you and Mimi need permission to raid the refrigerator?”

“Well, um, it's not Mimi. It's Teddy.”

This got the housekeeper's attention! Mrs. Fitzpatrick snapped her gaze up from the floury countertop and adjusted her glasses to peer at the young man standing beside Lark in the kitchen doorway.

“Well, well. Hello, Teddy. Welcome.”

“Hello.”

“This is Mrs. Fitzpatrick,” said Lark. “And you are about to have the best chocolate chip cookies you've ever tasted.” She was thankful that her housekeeper had decided to play it safe today—her basil and bacon brownies earlier in the week hadn't been a success. Even the boys had refused to eat them.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick was already selecting the most perfect cookies from the batch and arranging them on a plate. “Still warm.”

“Thanks,” said Teddy, accepting the cookies and breathing in the heavenly aroma. “Wow. These smell incredible.”

“Secret recipe,” Lark informed him in a stage whisper. “She won't tell a soul what she does to it, but I think she doubles the butter or triples the sugar.”

“My guess would be both,” said Teddy, taking a bite. The look on his face was pure joy. “And from the taste of it, I'd say she quadruples the chocolate chips!”

Lark giggled. “You might be on to something.”

“Milk?” Mrs. Fitzpatrick offered, rushing toward the fridge.

“No, thanks,” said Lark, breaking off a small piece of cookie and popping it daintily into her mouth. “We're going to rehearse, and you're supposed to avoid dairy before you sing. It coats your vocal cords.”

“Is that true?” asked Teddy.

Lark shrugged. “Well, my dad swears by it.”

“Sing?” said Mrs. Fitzpatrick. “Who's going to sing?”

“We are,” said Lark. “Teddy and I are performing in the talent show and we have to practice.”

“What's this about a talent show?”

Lark turned to see Max and Ollie coming down the back stairs from the practice room. When Ollie reached the bottom and spotted Teddy standing beside Lark, he stopped in his tracks, causing Max to crash into him from behind.

“I knew the smell of cookies would bring you rascals down here,” said Mrs. Fitzpatrick with a satisfied smirk. “Now, all of you, out of my kitchen. I have more baking to do. I'll bring some cookies upstairs for you later, to snack on while you rehearse.”

“So that's it?” asked Max, eyeing Lark. “You two are rehearsing for your school talent show?”

“Yep,” said Teddy, smiling sheepishly. “I guess that sounds pretty small-time to you guys, huh?”

“Not at all, mate,” said Ollie, giving him a friendly clap on the shoulder. “How do you think we got started?”

“We'd be happy to give you a few pointers,” Max offered. “If you're interested.”

“That would be great,” said Teddy. “I mean, if it's okay with Lark.” He turned a hopeful look in her direction. “I know you've got that whole stage fright thing, but maybe having a small audience would be good practice.”

“He's right,” said Ollie.

“Baby steps,” Max agreed. “Besides, it's just us. We're practically family, right?”

Lark bit her lip. A mild tingle of panic wound its way up her spine, but it was nothing compared to what she usually felt when she thought about singing in public. She supposed that was an improvement. Max and Ollie weren't strangers anymore. Maybe she could do it. And Teddy was right, she needed to get used to having people listen to her.

“Okay,” she said. “But go easy on us!”

“Never,” said Ollie.

“Forget it!” said Max.

“Good.” Teddy laughed. “A little constructive criticism never killed anybody.”

Lark slid a glance at Max and Ollie, and seeing the mischievous looks in their eyes, she sincerely hoped she wasn't making a huge mistake.

They performed Teddy's song just as they'd done in the music room at school.

Lark's and Teddy's voices combined flawlessly for the final “yeah,” then faded away as Lark strummed the last chord.

Silence followed. And then . . .

Both boys were on their feet, applauding!

“That was ace!”

“Wicked!”

Ollie darted across the room to give Teddy a fist bump. “You've got pipes, mate!”

“Thanks.”

“No, seriously,” said Max. “You can sing. You're as good as Ollie.”

To Lark's delight, Teddy blushed. “Well, I wouldn't say that.”

“Neither would I,” joked Ollie. “But that doesn't mean it isn't true.”

As if he suddenly remembered she was in the room, Max turned to Lark. “Oh, and you were great, too, Lark. Nice one.”

Lark smiled. It was clearly an afterthought, but she didn't mind. Teddy was the one who'd done most of the singing, after all, and she could tell this praise from the older boys meant the world to him.

“Do you play an instrument?” Ollie asked.

By way of response, Teddy positioned himself at the keyboard and played the Beatles' “Let It Be.”

Max's eyes went wide.

Ollie's brows shot up. “Okay, who are you really, and what have you done with Paul McCartney?”

Teddy laughed. “That's pretty much the best compliment I've ever gotten.”

“Seems there's no end to your talent,” Max observed.

“You should see him play soccer,” said Lark.

At this, Max and Ollie exchanged a look.

“I think you mean football,” Ollie corrected. “Doesn't matter. Just tell me there's a ball somewhere in that garage of yours.”

“Well, yeah, there is, but—”

“Come on, then,” said Max, dropping an arm around Teddy's shoulders. “Let's put that huge lawn to good use. We haven't had a decent kickabout since we got here. Oi, Ollie, where did I leave my trainers?”

“Wait!” said Lark. “What are y'all doing? Teddy and I have to rehearse. The talent show is Friday night!”

Laughing, Ollie took her face in his hands and planted a loud kiss in the middle of her forehead. “All work and no play . . . you know how that goes. Come on! You can be in goal.”

“But the song—”

“Is already brilliant. Now go change into something you don't mind getting mucky, because when Maxie and I play football, we show no mercy.”

For the next two hours, it was Lark and Max versus Ollie and Teddy. The boys were as impressed with Teddy's fancy footwork as they were with his singing and piano playing. They were quick to congratulate Lark, who'd only played two years of youth soccer back in Nashville, for holding her own.

When Teddy scored for the fourth time, Ollie gave him a high five. “I'm surprised you haven't already been signed by LA Galaxy,” he teased.

“So,” said Max, scooping up the soccer ball and tucking it under his arm, “I'm thinking that if your moves on the pitch are this good, your moves on the dance floor must be pretty slick as well.”

Teddy grinned. “That sounds like a challenge.”

They all trooped into the pratice room above the garage. The following hour was spent demonstrating Jasper's dance combinations for Teddy to see how quickly he could pick them up.
Very
quickly, it turned out.

Finally Teddy held up his hands in surrender. “This was awesome,” he said, catching his breath. “But my mom's gonna be here in a few minutes.” He looked disappointed about leaving.

“Don't forget your backpack,” said Lark. “Fitzy probably put it in my bedroom.”

As Teddy followed her out of the room, Lark prayed the boys wouldn't make any goofy remarks about the two of them going off alone together.

“They're really down-to-earth,” Teddy confided as they headed down the hall. “They don't have an attitude at all.”

“Yeah,” said Lark. “I can tell they think you're cool, too.”

When Lark opened the door to her bedroom, she felt a surge of panic, hoping she hadn't left anything embarrassing lying around. Luckily, there weren't any unmentionables dangling from the bedpost.

“Cool room,” said Teddy, glancing around and taking in the framed photo of Lark and Jackson, which she kept on her nightstand. “Is this your dad?”

“Yep. He lives in Nashville. He's a country musician.”

“That's so awesome.”

Lark smiled. “I think so, too. But I'm so used to people around here turning up their noses at country music. Like, they think every country song ever written is about some mopey cowboy crying into his beer about his cheating wife, or his lost hound dog, or the big dent in his new red pickup truck.”

Teddy laughed. “I like some country stuff,” he said. “Like Taylor Swift.”

“Taylor isn't a hundred percent country anymore,” Lark corrected. “She writes some pretty amazing songs.”

“Do you write your own songs, too?” Teddy asked.

“Well, actually . . .”

Summoning all her courage, Lark picked up a page of sheet music from her desk and handed it to Teddy.

Teddy took the page with reverence. “‘Is It Just Me?'” he read. “Great title.”

“Thanks.”

He scanned the lyrics, hummed a few bars, and then
he
began to sing the song!

Lark thought her heart might burst. Teddy's voice was perfect for her song, and hearing him sing the words she'd written practically made her dizzy.

When he was finished, he looked up from the music with an expression of admiration. “Wow. You really wrote this, huh? It's incredible.”

“You sang it perfectly.”

Teddy smiled. “The lyrics are so true. It's how I feel every day.”

He had to be kidding, didn't he? Teddy Reese had the whole school in the palm of his hand. Or so it had always seemed to Lark. “You do?”

“Yeah. I think everybody does, at least at our age, anyway. Some kids put up a good front, but inside we all feel like dorks once in a while.” He laughed. “Okay, more than once in a while. But that's what's so cool about these lyrics. They make you feel connected, less alone.”

Lark didn't know what to say. It was the best review she could have imagined. For a moment, they just stood there, smiling at each other.

Finally, the sound of a car horn broke the silence.

“That's my mom,” said Teddy, shouldering his backpack.

Lark walked Teddy to the driveway, where he introduced her to his mother through the open window of the station wagon.

“You're as cute as my mother-in-law said you were,” Mrs. Reese said, offering Lark a sweet smile. “We're all thrilled that you're going to perform with Teddy in the talent show.”

“So am I,” said Lark, hoping she sounded more confident than she actually felt.
I wonder how thrilled they'll be if I walk onto that stage and pass out from stage fright. Or wet my pants . . .

Teddy's voice broke through her gloomy imaginings.

“See you tomorrow, Lark. Rehearsal in the music room, as usual, right?”

“Right.”

Lark watched the car drive away before practically floating back into the house. Ollie and Max were waiting in the foyer, both still flushed from dancing and filthy from their soccer game. They were smiling like a couple of five-year-olds.

Lark braced herself. “Okay,” she said, sighing. “Let me have it.”

“Lark's got a boyfriend!” Ollie crooned.

Max batted his eyelashes and made kissing sounds.

“Hilarious,” said Lark.

“We heard him singing to you,” said Ollie.

“Yeah,” said Max with a wink. “You know things are getting serious when a boy serenades you with your own original song. I think it means you're heading down the aisle.”

“Stop it,” said Lark, biting back a smile. “It's not like that. We're friends.”

“Please!” said Ollie. “That boy fancies you. Trust me.”

“He does not.”

“Does too!”

“Whatever!” Rolling her eyes, Lark headed for the stairs as Ollie and Max broke into a chorus of “Here Comes the Bride.”

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

Lark was nearly asleep when she heard a gentle knock on her bedroom door.

“Lark, honey? You awake?”

“Yes, Mom.” Lark sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. “Come on in.”

An exhausted-looking Donna pushed open the door, tiptoed across the room, and dropped onto the edge of Lark's bed. “Just wanted to kiss you good night and see how your day was. I heard you had a visitor.”