Diary One: Dawn, Sunny, Maggie, Amalia, and Ducky Read online

  I tuned out after awhile because I was worried I’d be late for class.

  “Would you be interested?” Amalia asked.

  I thought she meant, would I be interested in seeing them. So I said sure.

  “Great!” Amalia exclaimed. “Show them a ballad and something really raw.”

  “Huh?” I said.

  “For the audition.”

  “You want me to audition?”

  “Duh,” Sunny muttered.

  “The backup singer just quit,” Amalia explained. “They’re going to need a new one.”

  I told Amalia no way. Politely.

  “If you change your mind, let me know,” Amalia said.

  She ran off, and I headed toward class with Sunny and Dawn.

  They were both mad at me. Dawn said I should be proud of my voice.

  Sunny wasn’t as gentle. She accused me of being too worried about homework. She thought that was the reason I’d said no. “Bring your homework to rehearsals,” she said. “Get James to help you. He’s pretty cute.”

  (Honestly, that girl is possessed. Isn’t Justin enough for her?)

  “You wanted another after-school activity, right?” Dawn asked. “This would be perfect for you.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. I could just see how Dad would react to that. He would freak.

  Which was almost enough to make me consider it.

  I mean, I love Dad and all, but I am not his little puppet.

  Still.

  You really have to sing to be in a band.

  “I meant a school activity,” I said. “Something that goes on your record.”

  Sunny let out this little scream of frustration. “What has happened to you, Maggie? You are so … straight! Girl, you need to loosen up!”

  I did not smack her.

  But I wanted to.

  The weird thing is, I’ve been daydreaming ever since then about being Aretha Franklin. Singing in front of a huge crowd at the Kingdome.

  It’s ridiculous, I know. But it would be fun.

  In another life.

  Thursday

  4:33 P.M.

  POSS. NEWSPAPER ARTICLES/(COLUMNS?)

  Interview with Mr. Pearson. His education and what he really wanted to do before becoming a

  Polling Place—Student polls on issues of the day

  Screenings—Movie reviews (maybe title too obscure?)

  Music Muse—CD reviews

  Confessions of a Movie Brat. An inside look at the film industry. Start with coverage of the Fatal Judgment premiere?

  I hate these.

  Well, maybe the last one’s okay. I can take notes at the screening.

  It’ll keep me from being bored to death.

  Thursday

  9:27 P.M.

  Horrible, horrible night.

  Dad is at the studio.

  Mom is all upset.

  Pilar may have quit working for us.

  Zeke is in the dumps. He’s also in the doghouse.

  When Dad called, Zeke picked up the phone and started yelling at him. Apparently Dad had forgotten he was supposed to take Zeke out for ice cream.

  After Zeke hung up, he accidentally-on-purpose knocked a bowl and a glass onto the floor. Pilar was not happy.

  Big fight. Zeke called Pilar all kinds of names and stomped outside.

  I was doing homework when Mom let out a scream like I’ve never heard before.

  She’d found Zeke floating in the pool facedown.

  He has played this trick a million times already. Not with Mom, though, I guess.

  By the time I got downstairs, Zeke was swimming around, laughing. Mom looked as if she’d had a heart attack. She screamed at Zeke. Then she yelled at Pilar. She complained that Pilar should be keeping an eye on Zeke.

  “He is eleven years old,” Pilar said. “He is not a baby.”

  Well, Mom and Pilar started arguing. Pilar said housekeeping is taking too much out of her and she needs her energy for acting class.

  Mom told Pilar she needs money for acting class. That is such a Dad thing to say. I was shocked to hear it from Mom.

  Pilar must have been shocked too. She walked out in a huff.

  I holed up in my bedroom and finished all my homework before dinner—which I had to cook because Pilar did not come back. (Mom wanted to order take-out pizza, but I’m sick of that.) I did not dare ask Mom whether Pilar had quit. I could tell that subject was off-limits.

  I hate when Dad’s schedule gets busy like this. My family turns into such a soap opera.

  Things are quieter now. Still tense, though. I can hear Mom’s voice. She’s in her room, talking angrily on the phone with Dad.

  I think Zeke has fallen asleep in front of the TV.

  He’s lucky. I’m wired. Not sleepy a bit.

  You snap your fingers

  Pick up the phone

  A word or two

  What you want is done.

  I hear you say “Jump.”

  Someone says answers, “How high?”

  Tell me, are you happy

  In your Corner of the Sky?

  ’Cause life can change

  When you least expect it.

  It ain’t a movie

  And you can’t direct it.

  And someday soon,

  You’ve gotta make room,

  ’Cause there’s space up there,

  For my own share

  In Of that Corner of the Sky.

  © Maggie Blume

  Friday morning

  11/14

  I hardly slept.

  Dad did not come home last night. Mom said he camped out on his office sofa.

  Zeke is sick. Mom’s angry because she has to stay home with him.

  And Pilar has quit.

  I cannot wait to go to school. Anything to get out of this house.

  Friday

  math class

  She thinks she knows me. But she doesn’t.

  Sunny thinks that by digging into me, she’ll make me change. She’ll make me be more like HER.

  That’s why she wants me to sing in that band. It has nothing to do with what I want. It has nothing to do with what would be best for me.

  No. Sunny thinks only about Sunny. She wants to live through me.

  I’m sorry, I’m in no mood for her today. At our lockers she had the nerve to tell me I needed to “take a walk on the wild side.”

  I wanted to say, “Yeah, when pigs fly.”

  She can walk on the wild side. She can drop out of school and run away. She can do whatever she wants.

  Where’s she going to end up? What’s she going to do for a living? What’s she going to put on a job résumé? “Many years experience, wild-side walking”?

  I’ve got other things to do with my life.

  WHEN PIGS FLY

  I WILL DO WHAT YOU WANT

  WHEN RATS SING

  I’LL BE YOUR EVERYTHING

  YOU DON’T KNOW ME

  YOU DON’T WANNA

  IF YOU DID YOU’D RUN AWA

  Friday

  home, after school

  Ms. Sevekow snuck up behind me while I was writing that. I had my journal onscreen too. I had to slam both my notebook and my laptop shut.

  Ms. Sevekow made a big deal out of this. “MAGgie BLUME, could that POSsibly be YOU?” she said. As if I were some angel who’d just lost her wings.

  Everyone laughed at me.

  I have to be more careful in the future.

  Okay, today’s big news: The day was not a total washout.

  I think I have a new friend. Maybe three.

  Amalia Vargas is cool. I saw her as I was leaving school. I was alone, because Sunny had to run off somewhere and Dawn was still in school, in some deep conversation near the lockers with Ducky McCrae.

  Amalia was with Cece deFarge and Marina Kodaly. I’ve never really known them well, but they were both giving me big smiles.

  “Amalia told us you have a great voice,” Marina said.

&nbs
p; I could not believe Amalia had done that. My face must have turned three shades of red.

  Well, we got to talking, and it turns out that Marina’s brother is James, the guy Amalia likes. And all three girls are planning to go to Vanish’s practice on Saturday night, in Rico Chavez’s garage. And they invited me to come.

  I smelled a rat. I told Amalia I was not going to sing.

  “No one’ll force you,” she said. “Just hang out with us.”

  We stopped at the corner of Elliot Road. Since I had to go off in another direction, we stood there for awhile to talk.

  And who should come walking toward us but Justin Randall.

  Smiling.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” replied Marina. “You coming Saturday?”

  Justin shrugged and said okay.

  As he walked away, I must have been staring, because Cece said, “Cute, huh?”

  “I guess,” I replied.

  “He’s free,” Amalia said with a smile. “In case you’re having any ideas.”

  Cece nudged me. “Now will you come to the rehearsal?”

  Here’s the weird thing: If Sunny had said something like that, I would have gotten angry.

  But the way Amalia and Cece were talking, I couldn’t.

  And I had to admit something to myself.

  I was relieved.

  I mean, Justin Randall is nice-looking. And he might be fun to get to know. And I know he noticed me at that awful party at Ms. Krueger’s, after I was thrown into the pool. Well, maybe he just noticed what was under my soaked shirt. But still.

  Anyway, I said I’d check with Mom and Dad about Saturday night.

  I’m sure I have nothing planned.

  Friday 11/14

  7:45 P.M.

  It just doesn’t make sense.

  Why doesn’t Dad want me to go to the rehearsal?

  He lets me go to rock concerts in other kids’ cars. He once let me see The Rocky Horror Picture Show on a Saturday at midnight without a parent chaperone.

  I know. This is all because of his focus group. 50 people saw a screening of Fatal Judgment and only 8 of them rated it “excellent.” Which means the film has to go back to the editing room and some scenes may have to be reshot and the director is already shooting another film and the company’s over budget, etc., etc., etc.

  Dad is frustrated. And so his first response to anything is no.

  And Mom just goes along with him.

  I’ll have to work on her. Deep down, I know she really doesn’t mind. She’s just frustrated too. Pilar isn’t answering her phone calls and Mom’s desperate to hire her back.

  It’s Friday. VCR night. She rented Hail the Conquering Hero. Preston Sturges movies always put her in a good mood. I’ll ask her again after we finish watching.

  Friday

  11:53 P.M.

  Good news.

  She said yes.

  I told that to Dad when he called a few minutes ago. He’d forgotten I’d ever asked him at all.

  So he agreed.

  Thank you, Preston Sturges.

  Saturday 11/15

  12:01 P.M.

  Amalia came over this morning. She is just great. Really down-to-earth.

  She complimented me about the house, but she didn’t go overboard. She didn’t read all the autographed photos on the walls.

  She even knows how to handle Zeke. When he first saw her, he asked me, “Who’s the dork?”

  She answered, “I was about to ask the same question.” Somehow, within minutes they were laughing at each other’s jokes.

  I was impressed.

  Anyway, she had a tape of Vanish and we listened to it.

  I guess they’re pretty good, for high school kids. It’s hard to tell, though, because the backup singer is kind of dull (and way out of tune).

  Was kind of dull. Amalia reminded me the singer had quit.

  But she insists she will not make me sing. James is doing the backup vocals until they audition someone else.

  The other headline of the day: Dad now thinks I should learn the cello. He knows someone who knows someone who taught the great cellist Yo Yo Ma. And Yo Yo Ma went to Harvard. This means a lot to Dad.

  So, at the moment I’m listening to a Schubert cello sonata. But I’m thinking about rock tunes.

  Amalia had to go home, but she’s picking me up tonight.

  After Schubert’s over, I’ll put on the Vanish tape again.

  Saturday

  sometime past midnight

  How can I sleep? I am totally juiced up. It feels like noon.

  Just got back from Rico’s house. What an evening.

  It started at 6:00. I was waiting for Amalia to pick me up, when a red Taurus rolled up our driveway. Amalia was waving at me from the front seat. Marina and Cece were in the back.

  I figured it was the Vargas family car, but I was wrong. In the driver’s seat, staring goggle-eyed at our house, was none other than Justin Randall.

  As I climbed into the backseat, Zeke came to the front door. He shouted out, “Is that your boyfriend?”

  Everyone in the car laughed. (I will kill him tomorrow.)

  After what Sunny had said about Justin, I half expected him to ask all about Dad and the movie business. But he didn’t. He just said, “Cool house,” and that was that.

  We listened to the Vanish tape all the way to Rico’s. We could not stop talking. Amalia and Justin both know a lot about music. They had all kinds of suggestions about how to improve the group’s sound.

  Rico’s house is in a pretty funky part of town that I don’t know very well. As we got out of the car, Justin and I were in the middle of a conversation, so we walked across Rico’s lawn together.

  Justin is a really sweet guy. Funny too, and a lot smarter than I thought he was. Even though I shouldn’t assume that someone isn’t smart just because he looks the way Justin does, which is really really handsome.

  We talked about Vanish. We talked about rock music in general. We talked about male singers versus female singers. We even talked about guitar fingerings (he takes lessons). I didn’t want to stop talking.

  The group was already tuning up in an enormous garage that had been converted into a performance/recording space. An older guy with a salt-and-pepper ponytail was adjusting sound levels, while a woman played keyboard riffs.

  They introduced themselves as Rico’s parents. I was amazed. They were so cool. Relaxed. They treated Rico as if he were a buddy, joking around and talking music. Then, after they finished setting up, they left. So unlike Mom and Dad.

  Justin wandered off to talk to a couple of other high school guys, visitors like us. Amalia introduced me to James, Rico, and the other band members, Patti and Bruce. I liked them all.

  As rehearsal began, Amalia, Cece, Marina, and I sat in folding chairs. James announced that the band’s looking for a backup vocalist but he would fill in. He warned us not to laugh.

  After a couple of songs, laughing wasn’t the first thing that came to my mind. Cringing, maybe. James doesn’t have much of a voice.

  Which is too bad, because in person the band sounds even better than it does on tape. Rico and James are fantastic guitarists (and Rico’s not a bad lead vocalist), Patti drums like a pro, and Bruce’s bass playing is solid.

  On the third time through “Calico Rat Love Blues,” James seemed to lose interest in the vocals and dropped out. Amalia, Marina, and Cece began singing along softly. I joined in too.

  Rico looked our way and smiled. “Louder,” he said.

  We started wailing. The music was cranked up so high, we could barely hear ourselves.

  At the first break, Rico’s parents brought in doughnuts and soft drinks. As we all gathered around them, Justin smiled at me and said, “You have some set of pipes.” (I didn’t know what to make of that, but Amalia assures me that set of pipes is another way of saying voice.)

  I couldn’t believe he could hear me.

  Well, he started urging me to try
out for the band. I told him Amalia had already asked. He said, “She has good taste.”

  Right in the middle of our conversation, Patti, the drummer, walked up to Justin and started flirting. Heavily too. Putting her arms around his shoulders, feeding him hunks of doughnut, the works.

  I just turned away.

  Amalia caught my eye. She came toward me, smiling, but when she saw my face she grew really serious.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I replied. “Why?”

  “You look upset.”

  I shrugged. “Nope. Fine.”

  But I was upset.

  Upset at Patti for interrupting my conversation. Upset at Justin for turning away from me.

  Upset at myself too.

  For caring.

  I did care. I cared that Justin was more interested in her than me. I cared that he liked my voice.

  I cared about a guy who is at least three years older than me and wouldn’t have the slightest interest in me.

  He should go out with Patti. She’s closer to his age.

  Well, the flirtation didn’t last long. The band had to start up again. This time they played a ballad, “Fallen Angel.” The notes were way out of Rico’s range. And he’s clearly much more comfortable singing fast songs.

  Marina nudged me. “You should go up there.”

  I shook my head. But as I sat there, my legs felt all twitchy. Part of me wanted to run up and grab the mike. I could definitely sing it better than Rico.

  I stayed put, though. I’m not crazy.

  Besides, I wouldn’t feel comfortable singing those words. The lyrics need work. Too many bad rhymes.

  At around 11:00, the rehearsal broke up. James looked depressed. He told Amalia the group needs at least another couple of rehearsals this week.

  “What’s the use of rehearsing if we don’t have a backup vocalist?” Rico asked.

  “We’ll get one,” James insisted.

  “In time for the Battle of the Bands?” Rico said.

  Amalia volunteered to post an audition notice on-line. I said I’d type up a flyer to put around the school.

  We all kept reassuring the band how good the rehearsal was, but they didn’t believe us. Their good-byes were kind of glum.