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I wish Sweet T were here. She would ask him to the prom, and the sad thing is, he'd
probably say yes. I try to find the words to plead with him to change his mind, but my
lips tremble, and I'm afraid if I open up, all that will come out is a puddle of drool.
He slides slightly closer to me, and his thigh grazes mine. There's something about
Gavin that puts me at ease. I feel like we've known each other a lot longer than a couple
of months.
"Okay," Kayla butts into our silence. "We have cheddar and American cheese, Ritz
crackers and Wheat Thins. Miniquiches and my specialty, glazed almond tarts." She sets
the tray down in front of us,
Is Betty Crocker serious?
"Thanks," Gavin and I both say.
I wait for Gavin and Kayla to reach for the appetizers before I take a few. Mom says that
no matter how hungry you are, you should never be the first one to attack the food tray
at a party. I
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would hardly call this a party, but I don't want Gavin to think of me as a pig. Of course,
that doesn't stop me from diving in for seconds.
After we're done eating, Kayla makes us do another run-through of the presentation.
She stops us a couple of times, to tell Gavin to slow down on the strumming and for me
to make better eye contact, which is kind of stupid since Helen couldn't make eye
contact.
We're almost done practicing when Kayla's freshman brother bursts into the room.
"What is it, Wizard?" She crosses her arms and glares at him.
He's panting. "They just fired the freshman football coach for bad-mouthing the
administration and lying about it."
"What a loser!" Kayla says.
"It's about time!" Gavin hisses.
"Why?" I ask. Since when does the guy that skips prom and doodles skulls on his folder
care about the football coach? "He had it coming," Gavin says.
Kayla's brother scrunches his eyebrows together. "He did?"
"The guy's a liar." Gavin clenches his fist. "I can't stand people that skate the truth like
it's no big deal."
My internal temperature drops until I feel like a human icicle. You hate lies? What about
secret identities?
Kayla shoos her brother out of the room. But neither of us moves, the fumes from Gavin
still simmering.
Finally Kayla says, "Are you on the team?"
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"Was. Freshman year." Gavin picks up his guitar. "And?" Kayla prods.
Gavin strums louder. "Nothing I want to talk about."
For once Kayla doesn't say anything else. Instead, we both watch Gavin play the guitar.
He's sexy when he's mad. His hair strikes his cheek as he bobs his head up and down.
His eyes are intense, focused on the guitar. I picture him up onstage strumming his guts
out to a crowded room filled with screaming fans. I'm mesmerized.
I finally glance over at Kayla's huge kitchen clock. Oh great, Derek's going to kill me. I
wish I didn't have to leave. If I could ditch Derek's gig and focus on The Love Shack, I'd
have more time. But I made a three-month commitment and I don't want him to use it
against me. Who knows what scheme he could come up with to publicly humiliate m«? I
shudder just thinking about it. Time for another fabrication. "I'm late. My aunt's coming
for dinner." I stand up and grab my backpack.
Gavin sets down his guitar. "No problem. Give me your number and I'll call you later in
case Kayla makes any more changes to torture us."
"Really? That's so nice," I say.
Gavin plugs my digits into his cell.
Kayla stares at us.
"What?" I can't help but ask.
"Oh, nothing, you just seem like brother and sister. It's cute." Kayla smiles.
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Damn, crush my heart with a two-ton boulder. Brother and sister. Not cute. Red-hot
lovers, much cuter.
I zip open my backpack and take out the Shrinking Violet mix that I burned for Gavin. "I
almost forgot. For you."
"Thanks." Gavin smiles. "This is great."
I don't wait for him or Kayla to say anything else--I just rush out the door. When I'm
halfway to the bus, I realize Gavin has my number programmed into his phone! Of
course, he might never call, but for good luck I pull out my cell and kiss it. It hasn't rung
for two days. The only numbers I have stored in it are Mom's, Rob's, Audrey's, and
Domino's. I know, lame.
Gavin, not lame.
I overheard Rob talking on his BlackBerry last night about the SLAM power lunch where
all the "heads" get together to strategize. That's when they come up with their
promotions, giveaways, and crazy stunts to attract more attention. I know they had the
big meeting today. I don't know if they can top last year's scheme to boost ratings,
though. Garrison dressed up as an old lady and tried to sneak into a Juice Box concert.
What makes it even funnier is that he's six foot four and has a goatee.
Derek's clicking away on the laptop when I slip into the studio. I didn't even know he
could write. "Thought you ditched," he says over his shoulder.
Tried to. "Sorry, had a school project to work on." I plunk into the chair.
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Derek goes on-air for a quick station ID, then resumes typing.
I just sit there like a stuffed elephant. I know I wanted as little contact with him as
possible, but this is really awkward. "Where's Jason?"
"I told him he could come in late since he's been working so hard on his show."
This puts me on high alert, and I scoot my chair back in case he wants to try anything.
But a second later, Paul, another producer, comes in with coffee. He stays to chat for a
few minutes, then leaves to run some copies for Derek.
"Need me to go through the commercials?" I ask.
"Nah, it's been done. I'm doing a teaser for your show in the next break, so I want you to
give a quick shout-out."
"Thanks." I nod. Wish Jason was here, but I can handle it. I shouldn't complain, at least
Derek's chatting up our show.
"Hey, all you studs out there," Derek says into the mike. "Have I got a surprise for you!
Now I'm not talking about you old dudes, this shout-out goes to all the high school
guys. Thinking about prom, but don't have a date? Or just want to show up with a really
hot chick? Well, if you're musical, I've got the ultimate SLAM contest for you. There's a
megahottie in the studio here and she's dateless for the prom ..."
Where? I look around.
He turns to face me for a quick second and flashes all his teeth. I cringe. "It's none other
than SLAM's own teen DJ, Sweet T." No, he didn't. This nightmare can't be happening to
me. I'm
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