Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [75]
“I’ve got homework.”
She rolled her eyes. “Screw homework. You’re already in so much trouble, just for once . . . screw it!”
I stared at her in amazement, then jumped up and slid the DVD into the player. Once I’d got it running, I sat beside her again, and this time crawled under the covers as well.
The movie started and I rested my eyes on the closed captions, but I didn’t bother to read them. Somehow I knew that I’d be able to watch the movie a million times in my life, but I might never again nestle into my mother’s side, feeling forgiven and so completely and utterly loved.
CHAPTER 41
Dad had a plate of pancakes at the ready when he woke us the next morning, which was almost as surprising as the discovery that I’d spent the night in my parents’ bed. He didn’t even seem pissed about having spent the night on the sofa, although I felt guilty when I noticed how much trouble he had standing up straight.
I expected him to beat a hasty retreat once he’d delivered breakfast, but instead he shuffled on the spot like a puppy waiting to be taken outside. “Um, I, well . . . Never mind.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“I’ll tell you in a moment. I don’t want to scare you.”
“Scare me?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just go ahead and enjoy the pancakes. I’ll read you the newspaper headlines when you’re finished.”
The pancake stopped midway to my mouth. “Newspaper headlines?”
He nodded solemnly.
“I need to see them, Dad.”
“Believe me, I don’t think you want to. For instance, those parent groups that loved you so much ...”—I nodded encouragingly—“well, let’s just say they don’t love you anymore. In fact, you’ve been blacklisted. You’ve become antiheroes of the indie music scene.”
I was about to ask him what he knew about the indie music scene when Finn burst in carrying Grace. “YouTube’s gone over a hundred thousand views,” he exclaimed. “Can you believe it? A hundred thousand! Holy crap.”
Mom coughed. “Language, Finn. Grace is listening.”
A moment’s hesitation all around, and then . . . nothing. Finn didn’t take offense at being called out, and I didn’t mind being reminded that Grace could hear now. Something had changed—maybe because there were bigger issues to deal with.
“What are you talking about, Finn?” I asked.
“Your appearance on Seattle Today. There’s been over a hundred thousand views of it on YouTube.”
I had trouble getting my head around that. I had to visualize the number, with all those zeroes, just to reassure myself it was as enormous as it sounded. “How many of those were you?”
Finn looked away. “Seventeen, maybe. Possibly eighteen.”
“I watched it too,” added Dad. “And I know you’re not going to like me saying this, but I thought the behavior was disgraceful.”
I rolled my eyes. “No shit, Dad.”
Mom pursed her lips. “Language, Piper!” she scolded. “Grace is listening.”
“Not so hasty, young lady,” added Dad, wagging his finger for emphasis. “What I disliked was the lead singer—what’s his name?”
“Josh.”
“Yes, Josh. I don’t know about his history with Kallie, and frankly, I don’t want to know. But no self-respecting person should humiliate another like that. Period.”
I was tempted to mention what a coincidence it was that Dad knew Kallie’s name but not Josh’s, but it probably wouldn’t have impressed Mom. Besides, he had a point.
“That’s just the way he is,” I explained.
“Then you need to do something about it. You’re the manager, right?”
“Yeah. . . . I mean, no! Dumb is over. Isn’t it obvious?”
Dad furrowed his brow like I’d stumped him with the million-dollar question. “Why?” he asked, completely seriously.
“Because they imploded on live TV. They’ll probably never talk to each other again.”
“You mean . . . that whole thing wasn’t planned?”
“What are you talking about?”
Mom placed a hand on my arm. “Your father and I just thought . . . well, you know . . . maybe you’d staged it.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Not at all. Let’s face it, you chose a completely inappropriate song for the audience