Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [7]
I raised my eyebrows. Apparently Finn had a gift for improvising. Who knew?
“She seemed to like us when we performed yesterday morning,” Josh replied.
All style and no substance, I countered, not waiting for Finn to pass along Josh’s words. Complete amateurs.
At this point, Finn started relaying my comments verbatim. He probably figured it would increase the odds of Dumb beating the crap out of me right there and then.
But Josh was too smart for that. If he was going down, it was going to be in a war of words.
“Amateurs, huh?” he said, facing me directly now. “And how do you figure that?”
Have you been signed yet?
Finn sighed, passed along the message.
“Course not. We only won the Battle three days ago.”
How are you capitalizing on the buzz your win created?
Finn shook his head, mumbled something.
“We did an interview on the University of Washington’s unofficial radio station last night.”
I wasn’t even aware the university had an official station. How much did they pay you?
Finn’s mouth seemed reluctant to open and close. His shoulders slumped even more than usual. I got the feeling he’d never again be late for his ride home.
“Nothing. It’s about exposure. You don’t make money while you’re breaking out.”
I laughed in what I hoped was a mocking tone.
Tash shoved in front of Josh, the green spikes in her hair bristling. She flared her nostrils at me in an unflatteringly unfeminine way and turned to Finn, too unobservant to notice I’d been lip-reading all along.
“So, what—she thinks she could get us paid for everything, is that it?”
Yes. If you have any sense, you’ll focus on charging for every interview and every appearance, instead of doing free performances on school grounds and getting suspended for it.
Finn swallowed hard. “She says . . . yes.”
Tash narrowed her eyes, and I’d swear her daubed-on eyeliner cracked like one of those ancient oil paintings in museums.
“Whatever. There’s no way ...”
She turned away. I couldn’t lip-read anymore, and her words became indistinct—a really obnoxious thing to do to someone who’s hard of hearing.
I figured she was telling Josh and Will to ignore me, or pummel me, or puncture my tires and set fire to my car or something. But I could also tell from their expressions that what I’d said was NEWS to them, and seriously interesting news at that. As she turned back to face me, even Tash seemed unsure, the metal jewelry peppering her heavily accessorized face twitching like I’d piqued her interest. And flanking them on every side was an ever-growing legion of groupies, all of them staring at me unblinkingly, like they were looking at me for the first time, like I was someone they’d never met before rather than someone they’d simply ignored.
And that was the moment my adrenaline shot of bravado expired. For some reason, they obviously expected me to speak next, only what more could I say? Even if what I’d said was true, I was just venting, and continuing seemed increasingly risky, if not masochistic. Suddenly the eyes trained on me seemed bright with expectation, and I was blinded by the glare.
I turned and strode away, not looking at anyone or anything except the main door. My hand was already shoved deep in my pocket, fingers clasped around the car key that would hasten my escape. I didn’t even need to wait for Finn; he was jogging along beside me, as eager to get away as I was.
We tumbled into the car, and I only dropped my keys once before jamming them into the ignition. But somewhere around the twelfth or thirteenth time the engine turned over without starting, I caught a glimpse of Josh, Will, and Tash in my rearview mirror. I exhaled slowly, gave up trying to start the car, and waited.
Josh tapped on the driver’s-side window, and there wasn’t any point in pretending I didn’t know he was there. I gripped the door frame for support as I stepped out of the car, wondering if they’d really dare to beat the crap out of me on school grounds.
Josh glanced at his brother and Tash, then turned his blazing blue eyes directly at me. I couldn’t look away.