Rock 'n' Roll Rebel (17 page)

Chapter Forty-One

O
n Monday, when Robbie, Olivia, and Kyra were all settled in the gym before the first bell, Tig made the announcement. “I have some potentially exciting news,” she said.

She told them all about Uncle Paul's proposition, explaining what Ad Comp was, the fake product they were charged with selling, and how they'd come up with the girl band concept and how Uncle Paul had suggested Pandora's Box play the song for the commercial. “They'll use the university's sound and video production stuff,” she said. “No cost at all. It will look and sound really professional.”

“If we sound really professional,” Kyra said.

“Hey, what happened to Miss Positive Thinking?” Tig asked. “Can't somebody else come up with a harebrained scheme now and then?”

Kyra smiled. “I'll give you that one.”

“So, what do y'all think?” Tig said. “Do we take the opportunity or not?”

“I'm in,” Kyra said. “Whatever you want. Besides, it won't be like we're playing live. We can do another take if we need to. They can edit it.”

“Well, some,” Tig said. “I think there's a limit to how much they can do. I mean, we can't stink. We've got to do it right.”

“We won't stink,” Robbie said. “I know that album. Cutting-edge. I can have it ready to go in a week. When can we practice together?”

“That's actually still an issue,” Tig said. “My mom won't relent on my punishment. We'll have to practice separately until progress reports come out. Then we'll have a week and a half to get together and practice as a band.”

“Yikes,” Olivia said. “That's not a lot of time.”

“I know,” Tig said. “But if we all promise to work really hard individually, maybe we can make it work.”

“What does Claire think about all this?” Robbie asked.

Tig grimaced. “I'll let you know when I find out.”

Chapter Forty-Two

T
ig couldn't wait.

All those times she'd waited for just the right moment to talk to Claire . . . about joining the band . . . about whether Regan had turned her against them . . . those were over. A new day had dawned for Tig, one where caution was overruled by a burning desire to play a kick-butt song with her kick-butt band. Well, they'd be kick-butt eventually, wouldn't they?

Tig couldn't wait. She had to know.

She caught Claire at her locker. No Regan, no Haley, no Sofia. Perfect timing.

“Ever hear of a band called the Sex Pistols?” Tig said, skipping any small talk or conversational niceties.

“Are you kidding?” Claire said. “My dad has a framed poster of their album cover in his office.”

Yes!
Tig thought. “Well, just imagine how proud your dear old dad would be if his daughter's band recorded one of their songs.”

“The band? That's still on?”

Tig didn't like the way Claire's voice sounded—like she'd hadn't thought about the band in some time.

“Yeah, it's still on,” Tig said. “I mean, I've been grounded for a while, but when progress reports come out, I'm good to go. We're going to record a song at the university—and make a video and everything. See, my uncle—”

“You wore it!” Tig turned around to see Regan. “I told you it was
so
your color!” Regan stroked the collar on Claire's sweater.

“Thanks!” Claire said. “I wasn't sure which earrings to wear with it.”

Regan linked her arm in Claire's. Tig could hear her saying, “Definitely the silver. Good choice,” as the two of them walked away.

Chapter Forty-Three

“S
o she just walks right off with them, talking about accessories,” Tig said. “Regan gave full approval to the silver earrings, in case you were wondering.”

“Oh, thank heavens!” Robbie said sarcastically. “Because what's more important than which earrings to wear?”

School had just gotten out, and Tig had to tell the whole story about Claire fast, before the bus or carpool took her bandmates away.

“I can't believe she asked if the band was still on,” Olivia said. “Like we wouldn't have told her if we'd called the whole thing off?”

“What color was her sweater?” Kyra asked.

Everyone stared at her.

“What? You said Regan said it was her color. I just wondered.”

“I guess this means we count Claire out, then,” Robbie said. “Man, I sure hate it. What a waste of a perfectly killer voice.”

“I hate to lose Claire, not just her voice,” Olivia said. “I really like her.”

“We all do,” Tig said. “But she's one of them now, and there's nothing we can do about it.”

“Maybe Claire can be friends with all of us,” Kyra said. “Maybe all of us can be friends.”

“Yeah, and maybe pink unicorns will sprinkle magical flowers all over the land!” Robbie said.

Tig smirked. “Give it up, Kyra. They don't want to be friends with us, and we don't want to be friends with them.” Well, the rest of them didn't. Tig still couldn't fathom why Kyra was so desperate for their approval.

“What are we going to do about the Ad Comp commercial?” Olivia asked. “Who's going to be our singer?”

“I don't know yet,” Tig said. “But we'll figure something out.”

“We have to,” Robbie said. “The gauntlet has been thrown down. The Bots want to know if our band is ‘still on'? We've got to show them it's
so
on!”

“Exactly,” Tig said. “Are we all together on this?”

Olivia and Kyra nodded.

“Good,” Tig said. “Because now, more than ever, I'm determined to make this work. Pandora's Box for the win!”

Chapter Forty-Four

“S
ubmission” had a syncopated rhythm for the backbeat. That meant that Tig had to kick the bass on
one and
, the
and
of three, and the
and
of four. She thought she'd never get used to doing three kicks in succession when it was time to start over the measure.

But she would get it.

Claire or no Claire, Pandora's Box was going to make that Ad Comp commercial.

Lee was confident about Tig's ability to play the song. “It's not all that complicated once you get the hang of the syncopation,” he said. “It's slower than ‘Gotcha.'”

“I thought we agreed we'd never speak of that song again,” Tig said.

Lee grinned. “Aw, come on. If you're going to lead a band, you're going to have to buck up,” he said. “Everybody who plays music has at least one story of complete humiliation. It gives you something to talk about with other musicians when you're up at three a.m. after a gig. It builds character.”

Tig remembered BD's “Party Doll” story and almost smiled. Almost. “I've built all the character I want to for a long time,” she said. “I can't mess this one up. You think I'll be able to get it?”

“Tig, you're a good drummer for a beginner,” Lee said. “What's more, you're determined and dedicated. With practice, you can do anything. Just take it slowly until you master the coordination, then get the tempo.”

For the next couple of lessons, Lee and Tig worked on her opening cymbal crashes (which were pretty easy, except that Tig's kit didn't have a crash cymbal, so she had to do everything on the ride cymbal), the backbeat, and the drum fill. Once she mastered the syncopation, the rest fell into place fairly easily. By the third lesson since they'd started the song, she could play most of the way through without messing up.

“Good—keep going,” Lee said. As Tig banged away on the backbeat, Lee settled down with his guitar. Almost as soon as he started, Tig lost her count and got so flustered, she had to stop altogether.

It was just like the night of Kyra's party.

“Why do I do that?” Tig said. “I was doing just fine!”

“The guitar part is on a counter rhythm,” Lee said. “Makes it a little tricky.”

“I'll say,” Tig said. “Let's try it again.”

They ran through it a few more times before Tig's lesson was over, and later that night, after she'd finished all her homework, Tig practiced it with the song playing through headphones.

“I've almost got it,” Tig told the crew at lunch. “Just in time for progress reports. How're you guys doing?”

“I'm cool,” Olivia said.

“Ready to rock,” said Robbie.

“I'm still practicing,” Kyra said.

Will was, of course, sitting by Sam, right across from Tig. He looked at her as if to say,
Good luck with that
. Tig nodded.

“Progress reports come out tomorrow,” Tig said. “I've got a solid B in science, so I'm golden. Practice at my house on Friday, then?”

“Aren't you forgetting one very important detail?” asked Robbie. “We're short a lead singer.”

Claire hadn't sat at the lunch table all week. And the few times she'd talked to the girls in class or between, she'd never mentioned the band or the video. Tig had been too proud to bring it up again. She didn't want Regan to get wind of anything, and revel in her desperation.

“I still say you should do it, Robbie,” Tig said. “I'm sure they can auto-tune you or something. Besides, it's mostly growling, isn't it?”

“I will not be auto-tuned like some cheap, no-talent pop star,” Robbie said. “If it's so easy, you do it.”

“I'm not good enough to sing and keep count,” Tig said. “If you want proof of that, there's this very enlightening YouTube video you may have heard something about.”

“What about you, Olivia?” Robbie asked. “Think you've got it in you to growl?”

“Olivia's not the growling type,” Will said. “She's way too sweet.”

Tig noticed that Olivia and Will looked at each other, then blushed and quickly looked away. What was up with that?

“He has a point,” Tig said, somewhat distracted. She forced herself to get back to the matter at hand. “What if we did an instrumental?”

Just then Claire approached their table. “Is there room for one more?” she asked.

“Um, sure,” Tig said. “It's just that . . . well, I didn't think you were sitting with us anymore.”

“Don't be silly,” Claire said. “Of course I want to sit with my friends.”

“We're still your friends?” Robbie asked. “I thought you'd thrown us over for . . . a better offer.”
Everyone stared at Robbie. “What? It's what we were all thinking.”

“I never meant it that way, honestly,” Claire said. “Regan can be somewhat—”

“Evil?” Olivia said.

“Malicious?” Robbie offered.

“I was going to say . . . exclusive, perhaps,” Claire said. “She was very kind to befriend me, and she was quite solicitous about my well-being when I was ill, but she became easily annoyed if I didn't spend all my time with her group. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, and well, you all seemed to manage without me.”

“We didn't manage,” Tig said. “The fact is, Claire, we didn't want to freak you out or seem clingy, but we miss you. We miss your friendship. And to be completely honest, we miss you in the band.”

“Then you'll still let me sing?” Claire asked.

“
Let
you?” Robbie said. “Uh, yeah. We'll allow you to do that. Like, please, please, pleeeeze?”

Claire grinned. “Good. Because I really want to. I've missed you all. And I've missed the band, even though I'm still a little scared of the idea of singing in front of people. It never seemed so bad when you guys were with me, though. It felt like fun.”

“So you're still in?” Tig could feel her cheeks getting sore from smiling so big.

“Oh yes,” Claire said. “And I especially want to sing in the video.”

“You do?” Tig said.

“Absolutely!”

“I was afraid the whole video idea had scared you off,” Tig said. “You know, with the stage fright thing. I thought maybe the idea of being recorded had you so spooked that you'd never come back.”

“Well, the video does scare me a bit,” Claire said. “But I don't have much of a choice, really.”

“What do you mean?” asked Robbie.

“You see, Regan . . . She'd already tried to talk me out of singing with the band. But then it seemed she'd overheard Tig telling me about the video. And then . . . she forbade me to do it.”

“She
what
?” said Robbie.

“Yes. So you see, I have to sing on the video. I can't let it sit, some twit telling me what I can and can't do.” Tig loved the way Claire said
cahnt
. She loved even more the way Claire had just called Regan a twit.

“Did you just call Regan a twit?” Robbie said.

Obviously, Tig wasn't the only one who'd enjoyed that part.

“Yes, sorry,” Claire said.

“Don't apologize on our account!” Robbie replied.

“It's just that it does make me angry when someone tells me I can't do something. I have this—oh, I don't know, perhaps it's a personality flaw—but I just feel that I must do the exact opposite in order to assert myself. Do you think I'm quite horrible?”

“We think you're wonderful,” Tig said. “Don't we?” Everyone agreed. “Glad to have you back, Claire. Friday night, everybody: My house. Sleepover. Lots of practice!”

After the reunited band exchanged fist bumps, Tig looked over her shoulder. Regan and Haley were staring a hole straight through the girls of Pandora's Box.