Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [45]
As Finn prolonged his private rehearsal with Kallie for one more minute—and indulged his first and last opportunity to brush fingers with the school’s resident hottie—Ed traipsed over and sat in front of me, twirling his drumsticks.
“I can’t say our rehearsals are completely warm and fuzzy just yet,” he announced.
“No,” I agreed. “Even our fans are turning on us.”
“What? We have fans?”
I laughed. “Well, not the band. Someone wrote me a private message on our MySpace page.”
Suddenly Kallie and Finn were looking at me too. “What did it say?” she asked.
Against my better judgment I pulled up the message on my laptop and read it to them, omitting the bit about me being a “money-grabber.” Everyone was silent. “I don’t know what it means,” I admitted.
“I do,” said Kallie as she put her guitar away. “It’s an address. 171 Lake Washington Boulevard East is Kurt Cobain’s house.”
“I thought he was dead.”
“He is. Which begs the question, why does your secret admirer want you to go see him?”
Ed sat down next to me and peered at the screen.
“Actually, the only question it begs is why I read this to you in the first place.” I closed the laptop.
Kallie narrowed her eyes. “So that’s it? You get a cryptic message from a secret admirer and you just drop it?”
“Yes, obviously. It could be from a serial killer.”
Ed tapped his fingers against my laptop. “Whose username is an anagram of Baz Firkin?” he asked dubiously.
ZARKINFIB . . . BAZ FIRKIN. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it.
“Why would Baz want you to visit Kurt Cobain’s house?” asked Kallie.
I thought back to our discussion in the studio. “He said he wanted me to get acquainted with the world of rock music. I guess this is all part of my education.”
Kallie sidled up and took my arm. “Well, let’s get educated, then.” She smiled, like my explanation had been reason enough for her to buy in.
“I’ll come too,” said Ed.
I shook my head. “No way. I need to get home for dinner. Mom and Dad will be pissed if I’m late.”
“I’ll tell them you’re busy,” said Finn.
I was about to protest again. After all, I could think of at least another eighteen reasons why this was a dumb idea. But then I remembered Piper’s Manifesto, and realized that two of the people who’d spent the previous day chewing me out were being friendly to me again—really friendly, and I couldn’t say no. Not even if it meant being late home.
Besides, it beat a Vaughan family dinner hands down.
CHAPTER 28
I dropped Finn at home on our way to 171 Lake Washington Boulevard East. Kallie navigated, taking us on a snaking trail through the autumnal colors of the arboretum and on down toward Lake Washington. Flakes of cloud drifted above us, tinged by the setting sun. On the far side of the lake, the Cascade mountain range jutted through the evening haze.
Lake Washington Boulevard runs parallel to the lake but high above it, a street of large houses and austere fences. Kallie indicated that I should park across the street from a set of especially fortress-like wooden gates. There was no house number, but she seemed sure of the address.
We emptied out of the car and approached the gates cautiously. To the left, an elaborate security system deterred us from getting too close, and all I could see of the house itself were the curved, gabled edges of the rooftop. Ed stepped up to the security system and admired its complexity, while I wondered what on earth we were doing there. I was even more puzzled by Kallie being there with us, but as I glanced over at her, I couldn’t help noticing how transfixed she seemed, like she couldn’t be anywhere else in the world.
Kallie met my eyes. “There’s a park next door,” she said, pointing to a hill beside the house. “I think you should see it.”
“How do you know about it?”
“My parents. They were big Nirvana fans back in the day. Saw some of their early performances. Mom used to brag about being the first African American to go grunge.”
“What about your dad?”