Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [25]
Josh clapped his hands together and attempted to shake my hand like it was all my idea. But I wasn’t looking at Josh. I was watching Tash, her nostrils flaring, eyes shooting daggers at Kallie.
Yes, we had our eye candy, but it didn’t take a genius to see that she was in danger of being eaten alive.
CHAPTER 16
It was like Groundhog Day: Mom waltzing in with the revised contract as if she were a servant proffering a gift to a monarch. It was supposed to make me laugh, to keep some of the growing tension at bay, but I knew I was about to make things worse.
Before you give that to me, I need to tell you something.
Mom ditched her faithful-servant impersonation. What is it?
I need you to add another name.
I already added Ed’s name.
Yes. A different name.
Mom’s shoulders slumped, but her gestures were surgically efficient, her face suddenly sharper than before. It’s preferable for your band to be able to fit onstage.
Mom was almost never sarcastic, especially when signing, so I knew she was really exasperated. Or maybe just exhausted, as she was getting back later every day.
It’s just one more person—
Today, yes. By the time I redo the contract it might include half the school.
I clammed up because Mom was making fun of me, and she knew it too, because she sighed and changed gear. So who’s new?
Kallie Sims, I finger-spelled, then added school goddess in angry gestures that surprised us both.
And what does the school goddess play?
I was about to answer when it occurred to me that I didn’t know, because Josh hadn’t told me. I had to know, of course. If I didn’t, then the band really was a joke. How could it not be? And yet ...
Mom hugged me, saving me from having to incriminate myself. When she stepped back, she tilted her head to the side. Are you sure you want me to redo this contract?
I wanted to say that I didn’t have a choice, but I didn’t want Mom to think even less of Dumb than she already did, so I nodded with manufactured confidence.
Okay. Kallie, right? She finger-spelled the name for confirmation.
I nodded again, but I’m sure a part of me died right there.
Mom was halfway out the door when she stopped. Would you like me to add a clause about new and departing members? Just something to keep the group fixed at five.
Yes, I signed with a desperation that must have completely given me away.
An hour later, Mom reappeared with an updated contract. This time she’d printed it on our regular home printer, so it wasn’t on the snazzy off-white bonded paper from her office. But I couldn’t blame her for that. After all, she probably figured it wouldn’t need to last very long.
CHAPTER 17
Apparently, Phil Kirchen at WSFT-FM didn’t need long to mull over my request:
Piper: Who’s Dumb? Send MP3. Phil.
One line. One freaking line, but the MP3 request sent me into a cold sweat. I figured our chances of getting away with substituting hard rock for soft rock diminished significantly once he’d actually had a chance to hear the band, and even a DJ who specialized in six-word e-mails was likely to listen to more than the first two seconds of our only track.
I pulled up Google and started reading articles about soft rock, jotting down notes as I went:
• Began as a reaction against hard rock (note to self: bad sign)
• Avoids heavy reliance on electric guitars (note to self: another bad sign)
• Emphasizes inoffensive and inclusive lyrics (note to self: must try to work out what the hell Josh is actually singing)
• Proponents include: Chicago, Toto, Air Supply (note to self: survivors of these groups all look old and wrinkly now)
• Representative album titles by Air Supply include: Lost in Love (note to self: ick); The One That You Love (note to self: bleuuugh); Now and