Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [81]
“I did approve of the original offer, especially as I was going to get a fixing fee out of it.”
Oops. I hadn’t considered that Baz’s interest in all this might be personal. I patted his hands reassuringly. “Never mind. I won’t let you leave empty-handed.” Baz perked up. “I’ll make sure there’s a free ticket waiting for you on Saturday night.”
Baz shook off my hands, but as he left I got the feeling he was already laughing about the whole thing.
Finn turned to me then, an awestruck look on his face. You are tougher than anyone I know. I am so glad you’re on my side.
I grinned like a fool. I’ll always be on your side, Finn. I promise.
CHAPTER 44
If I’d thought the meltdown on Seattle Today would count as the single most uncomfortable experience in Dumb’s history, I was wrong. As the band sloped across the student parking lot the next day—we’d been banned from meeting on school grounds, so I chose the most out-of-the-way place I could think of—the tension could have fueled a year’s worth of daytime soaps. Anarchic fans trailed every member (except Ed), but the biggest posse was reserved for Josh, whose late arrival was greeted with utter silence and a distinct lack of eye contact from his bandmates.
“I’m speaking first today,” I announced, just to be sure everyone knew who was in charge. “It won’t be long before a teacher sees us and makes us leave, so listen up. Yesterday I met with the manager of Grievous Bodily Harm, and negotiated three hundred dollars apiece for us to open for them this Saturday at the Showbox.”
Kallie’s eyes flicked up. “You’re kidding.”
Something told me she wasn’t talking about the money. “We can’t afford to say no, Kallie,” I said, never breaking eye contact. “You know we can’t.”
“But—” she began, then broke off. She looked like she might cry, but I knew she’d also sign on. I hated that she needed the money so badly.
“Okay, I have to know we’re still together,” I continued. “It’s all or nothing. A show of hands, please.”
Eyes stayed fixed to the ground as arms crept slowly upward. Eventually only one person dissented.
“Ed?” My voice caught in my throat, but Ed shook his head. “You have to,” I insisted, refusing to take my eyes off him.
Ed looked around at the other band members, then at the crowds of students staring at him unblinkingly as the future of Dumb rested in his hands. He continued to shake his head, but it was more an act of surrender than a refusal, and we both knew it. A moment later, he raised his hand.
“Okay, then,” I said, relieved. “Here’s the plan: Our set is still a ways from being ready, so practice by yourselves tonight and be ready to play tomorrow lunchtime. We’ll meet here in the parking lot.”
Tash stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Why bother? The teachers will never let us play here.”
“Yes, they will. Trust me.”
Tash raised an eyebrow, but I could tell it was out of respect, not suspicion. And then I recognized the same look on the faces of the forty or so kids who were watching the meeting.
“We need all of you here too,” I told them. “Nothing like a live audience to make us focus.” An apologetic cheer went up in response, but I knew I had their attention now, which was the main thing. “And finally, before we go, I think we all need to hear what Josh has to say to Kallie.”
Josh’s look of surprise was the most honest response I’d ever seen from him. “What are you talking about?”
I shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. How about an apology? How about a promise to stop stalking her?”
Tash snorted with laughter. Josh turned red. The portion of the crowd clearly marked as his entourage took a step back.
“Fine. I’m sorry I was rude to you, Kallie. And I’m sorry I sabotaged our performance.”
I’d been so certain Josh wouldn’t apologize that I wasn’t sure where to look when he’d finished. Neither was Kallie, although she nodded in grudging acceptance.
“And while I’m at it,” continued Josh, “I’m sorry that our performance has been viewed a quarter of a million times on YouTube.” He looked at me, steely-eyed. “And I’m sorry this notoriety has allowed