The High Note

by Harmony Jones

  Lark laughed. “I only understood about half of that, but I think I got the general gist of it. You had fun, right?”

  “Oh yeah!” said Mimi, bobbing her head. “And my brothers and sisters all chipped in and bought me the film-editing software I’ve been wanting. How about you? How was your first Christmas in California?”

  “Nice,” said Lark. “Mom surprised me with new hiking boots and a road trip up north to put them to use. We stayed at this really cozy lodge in the woods. No smog, no LA traffic, and—the best part—no cell phone reception!”

  “How could no phone reception be the best part of a hiking trip?”

  “Because it forced my workaholic mother to leave the music business world behind and just relax,” Lark explained with a grin.

  What she didn’t mention was that no amount of breathtaking mountain scenery could make up for not seeing her father on Christmas. But in true BFF fashion, Mimi was able to read Lark’s mind.

  “Too bad you couldn’t go back to Nashville for a few days,” she said softly.

  “Wouldn’t have been much point,” said Lark with a shrug. “Daddy had to work. But he sent me the coolest gift ever from the road.”

  “New laptop?” Mimi guessed. “Diamond earrings shaped like the state of Tennessee?”

  “Nope. A vintage Loretta Lynn album! Rare, and in mint condition!”

  “I have no idea who that is,” Mimi admitted, checking her dark curls in the magnetic mirror stuck to the inside of Lark’s locker. “But if you like her, then I like her. Same way you like movies directed by Tim Burton, just because you know I think he’s a genius!”

  “Exactly,” said Lark, nudging Mimi away from her reflection, toward the caf-a-gym-a-torium. “Now let’s get to lunch. I’m starving.”

  “You know what would be really great?” Mimi mused as they hurried along. “If one day Tim and Loretta collaborated on a music video.”

  “It’s a cool thought,” said Lark, smiling. “But since Loretta Lynn is about the same age as your bisabuela, I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “Oh. Well, speaking of music videos …” Mimi gave Lark a sly look. “Yours is doing great. But I bet you haven’t checked out any of the recent comments.”

  Lark shook her head. She was still having trouble wrapping her mind around the fact that a few months back, Mimi had made a music video featuring Lark singing one of her original country-pop songs, called “Homesick,” and uploaded it on YouTube. To preserve Lark’s anonymity, Mimi had posted the song under the name “Songbird”—the nickname Lark’s father had given her when she was small and just starting to show her singing talent.

  So far, the video for “Homesick” had been extremely well received by viewers—more than eighty thousand of them, according to Mimi (Lark couldn’t bring herself to look!). By some miracle, no one at school had stumbled across the video yet. Lark was sure that if anyone had, they would have announced it to the entire student body by now, or worse, identified her by name online. Lark took some comfort in the fact that very few of her schoolmates were into country music, so it was unlikely that they’d find the “Homesick” video while searching the Internet. Still, the thought of being in the public eye—even anonymously—made Lark cringe.

  The talent show had been an exception. She’d forced herself to perform because she simply couldn’t bring herself to refuse Teddy’s request to duet.

  “I bet if your mom knew how much attention the ‘Homesick’ video has been getting,” Mimi was saying, “she’d have spent all that time in the mountains trying to talk you into signing with Lotus as a performer and not just a songwriter.”

  “You’re right,” said Lark. “My mother knows I hate performing live, and she knows that being in the entertainment industry can be tough on someone my age. But I don’t think even that would keep her from trying to make a recording star out of me. I love writing songs for the band to perform, but when it comes to concerts, I’m happy to just watch from the wings.”

  “Too bad,” said Mimi, opening the door to the crowded lunchroom. They moved down the lunch line, and Mimi helped herself to a plate of macaroni and cheese and a butterscotch pudding. “Because you’re an amazing performer. In fact, I’ll bet my dessert you’ll be a star one of these days.”

  Reaching over, Lark plucked the cup of butterscotch pudding off Mimi’s tray. “I’ll just take it now, Mimi,” she said with a grin. “Because that is NEVER going to happen!”

  CHAPTER 2

  Lark put down the guitar and jotted some new words in her songwriting journal. Even though she was struggling to write, her independent study in music was still her favorite part of the day—fifty-five minutes all to herself in Mr. Saunders’s music room, with almost-perfect acoustics and an array of instruments waiting on stands and shelves.

  Here she wasn’t afraid to belt out any lyrics that came to her. Even the silly ones like:

  Everything was dark and tragic

  Now the world is full of magic

  And Teddy’s the icing on the cake

  How d’you like that, Ally Drake?

  As she laughingly sang out the last snarky line, the music room door opened and Lark wished she could gulp back the words.

  A face appeared in the doorway.

  “Teddy … hi.”

  “Hey, Lark. That melody sounded awesome.”

  “Thanks. Um, you didn’t by any chance hear the lyrics, did you?”

  “Kind of,” he said. “Were you singing about cake?”

  “Yes!” said Lark, flooded with relief. “Cake. I was singing about cake. You know, trying to come up with a new spin for a birthday song?”

  “Wow, that’s a really creative idea,” said Teddy.

  The fact that he sounded so impressed made Lark wish it were the truth.

  Then, as if he’d only just remembered why he was there, he said, “I’m having dinner at your house tonight, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll take the bus home with you.”

  “Of course it’s okay,” she said breezily, her heart fluttering. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Max and Ollie are back,” he reported. “Ollie texted to say they landed about an hour ago. Fitzy is going to make a huge feast, then we’re going to rehearse awhile.”

  A shadow of worry flickered across Teddy’s face, which Lark assumed had to do with Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s “adventurous” cooking style. The Campbells’ housekeeper, affectionately known as Fitzy (because if the kids ever dared to call her Mrs. Fitzpatrick, she’d snap a damp dishtowel at their bottoms!), had a habit of dreaming up peculiar recipes and unexpected taste combinations. Today, for example, Lark had opened her lunch bag to find a tuna fish and banana sandwich.

  “Don’t worry,” said Lark. “If the feast turns out to be hot dogs with hollandaise sauce, we can always order a pizza.”

  Teddy looked only slightly relieved to hear it; the troubled expression on his face remained as he turned back toward the door. “Good luck with the birthday song,” he said.

  “The what? Oh, right! Thanks.”

  “See you on the bus.”

  The minute Lark and Teddy sat down, girls eagerly began filling the seats around them. An eighth-grade honor student actually got a seventh-grade boy to trade seats with her by offering to do his social studies homework until February.

  Teddy kept his head down and tried to ignore the whispers and giggles while he focused on the science book in his lap.

  “Are you really studying?” Lark asked softly. “Or are you just trying to keep the fans from fawning all over you?”

  “I’m really studying,” said Teddy. “I can’t get my homework done during study hall anymore because kids are constantly asking me what it’s like to be in Abbey Road. And with band rehearsal after school and on weekends, I don’t get much time to study at home, either. Not that I’m complaining,” he added hastily.

  “I totally understand,” said Lark. “The band is a huge commitment.”

  “So is eighth grade,” Teddy sa
id with a grin. “I’ve got a huge science exam coming up, and I’m way behind.” As the bus glided past the sports fields, Teddy looked out the window. “And I’m kind of bummed I won’t be able to be on the soccer team in the spring,” he confided.

  “You mean because my mom’s planning a concert tour?” asked Lark. Saying it made her heart hurt a little. Abbey Road’s first album was scheduled for release in February, right after school break. Donna was already planning a huge launch party, and after that the boys would be going on a three-month tour to promote the record. Missing the boys over Christmas was one thing, but when they went out on tour she wouldn’t see them for a really long time.

  Teddy sighed heavily. “Yeah. Not that I’d be able to play even if we weren’t going on the road. You have to have a B average to try out, and the way my grades are looking right now, I don’t think I’d even qualify.”

  Lark didn’t know what to say to that. She knew how much soccer meant to Teddy and she hated the thought of him missing it for either reason.

  The bus dropped them off at the end of the long drive that led to the rented mansion Lark called home. She was finally getting used to living like a zillionaire (even if she wasn’t really one), though getting used to it and liking it were two different things. As she and Teddy headed across the sprawling lawn, her mind wandered to her old house in Nashville, with its tiny backyard; she wondered what it would be like to sit on the back deck with Teddy while her father fussed over the barbecue and sang old-school country songs.

  “There she is!”

  Lark blinked out of her daydream to see Max and Ollie sprinting down the driveway to meet her. She’d almost forgotten how terrific-looking they were—one tall and blond, the other dark and muscular. Good thing she’d come to think of them as older brothers, or her knees might have gone weak at the sight of the two boys!

  “Go on then, give us a hug,” barked Ollie, his blue eyes twinkling as he lifted Lark off her feet and spun her around.

  “Enough of that! You’ll make her dizzy,” Max scolded, playfully shoving his bandmate aside to wrap Lark in a bear hug with his strong, brown arms. “Besides, it’s my turn. She’s grown about six inches since we’ve been gone!”

  “No I haven’t,” said Lark, laughing. “In fact, I’ve positively shriveled up from the pain of missing you!”

  “Of course you have,” said Ollie easily, looking as though it were a given that any female deprived of his nearness would have no choice but to wallow in misery.

  “Reese!” said Max, releasing Lark to offer Teddy a fist bump. “How are you, mate?”

  Ollie greeted Teddy with a bro hug and a few fake punches, which Teddy expertly dodged and returned.

  That’s what music does, Lark thought, watching Max drop an arm on Teddy’s shoulder and lead him toward the house. It turns strangers into friends.

  Then she let out a yelp of surprise as Ollie scooped her up, slung her over his shoulder like a duffel bag, and jogged up the drive.

  She laughed all the way to the door.

  The Campbells’ Christmas tree was eleven feet tall.

  And fake.

  That was something they’d never had back in Nashville: an artificial tree. But Lark’s mother had reasoned that since they were going to be in the mountains for most of the holiday break, there was no point in bothering with a real one.

  When had Christmas become a bother? Lark had wondered at the time. Now, as she sank into the living room sofa, she had to admit she was almost glad the tree was plastic. If it weren’t, she and the band would be gathering around a dried-out skeleton, and after all, the whole point of leaving it up had been so that they could share a bit of belated Christmas spirit with Max and Ollie.

  “In England it’s bad luck to leave a tree up after Twelfth Night,” Max pointed out.

  “Don’t worry,” joked Lark. “This isn’t England, this is LA, where the only thing that’s considered truly unlucky is when your agent stops returning your calls.”

  “Or your plastic surgeon,” Teddy added, and they all laughed.

  “I’m with Max,” said Fitzy, appearing with a tray of hot cocoa and cookies, which she placed on the coffee table. “That tree gets taken down first thing tomorrow, or we might as well just leave it up and hang Easter eggs on it come spring!”

  As Fitzy flounced out of the room, Teddy reached for one of the mugs, and a red-and-green sprinkled cookie.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” said Ollie. “The Fitz was boasting earlier about some new recipe she tried that called for brown sugar … and shaved parsnips!”

  Teddy looked at Lark. “He’s kidding, right?”

  When Lark shook her head, Teddy dropped the cookie back onto the plate.

  “So what did you do for the holidays?” she asked the boys.

  “My family spent Christmas at my grandparents’ house,” Max reported. “It was beautiful, but freezing. I told them all about LA, and of course, you guys.” He paused to shoot a grin at Teddy. “By the way, my little sister, Anna, fancies you, Ted. Wants to know if we’ll be touring England anytime soon.”

  Lark felt her mouth bend into a frown but quickly caught herself. After all, it was ridiculous to be jealous of a girl who lived over five thousand miles away.

  “Did you see Aidan at all while you were home?” she asked.

  “Only on the telly,” said Max.

  Lark’s eyes went wide. “Aidan’s been on TV?” She hoped he wasn’t a lead story on the evening news, but knowing what a troublemaker Aidan was, that was entirely possible!

  “He’s actually making a name for himself on Sound Off,” Ollie reported. “It’s one of those musical talent competition shows.”

  “Aidan’s a solo act now,” Max said. “It’s perfect for him, since he’s too self-centered to be a team player.” He laughed. “But the boy does have talent. He’s made it through the first round. A lot of people think he might win.”

  “Aw, who wants to waste time talking Aidan, when we could be giving gifts?” said Ollie, handing Lark a large package with a squashed bow. “This is for you, from Maxie and me. It’s from Camden Market.”

  “That sounds way cooler than ‘we got it at the mall,’ doesn’t it?” said Lark, accepting the gift.

  “Sorry it looks a bit shabby,” said Max. “Customs and all.”

  Lark tore into the wrapping paper and opened the dented box to find a pair of flower-print Dr. Martens.

  “Thought you might give those old cowboy boots of yours a rest now and then,” teased Max. “Do you like ’em?”

  “I love them!” cried Lark, slipping her new boots on.

  “Very rock ’n’ roll,” Ollie observed. “Now all you’ve got to do is dye your hair bright green and you’ll be good to go.”

  Teddy grinned. “Please don’t do that.”

  “I agree,” said Max, reaching out to ruffle Lark’s long, auburn hair. “It’s brilliant just the way it is.”

  Blushing, Lark reached under the tree and pulled out three envelopes, which she handed to Max, Ollie, and Teddy. “These are from me and my mom,” she said as the boys opened them.

  “Tickets to opening day at Dodger Stadium,” said Ollie. “That’s epic. I’ve always wanted to go to a baseball game.”

  “Amazing,” Max agreed, smiling. “Although I’m surprised Donna hasn’t booked us to sing the national anthem while we’re there.”

  “Oh, she’s working on that,” Lark assured him.

  “Here’s one for you, mate,” said Ollie, tossing a package to Teddy.

  “Thanks,” said Teddy, ripping open the wrapping and beaming at what he saw inside.

  “What is it?” asked Lark.

  Teddy held up a red-and-white scarf with a crest emblazoned on it.

  “That’s the official Arsenal team scarf, Ted!” Max explained. “Thought you’d like it, since you love footie as much as we do.”

  “It’s awesome,” said Teddy. “But … I feel bad. I don’t have anything for you guys.�
��

  Ollie let out a loud crack of laughter. “But you’ve already given us the best gift ever … you saved the band! And now you’re in it for the long haul, mate! Abbey Road forever!”

  Lark noticed that Teddy suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

  “Thanks,” he said again, putting the scarf around his neck.

  “All right then,” said Max, gulping the last of his hot cocoa and leaping to his feet like the agile dancer he was. “Time to get to work!”

  Lark tried to concentrate on her homework, but the thought of the boys rehearsing in the practice room above the garage had her fingers itching to strum her guitar. Halfway through her science chapter she gave in, picked up her beloved Gibson, and worked on her new song.

  She was concentrating so hard she almost didn’t hear the knock on her bedroom door. When she looked up, her mother was peeking in, smiling broadly. “The song sounds great. Another hit for Abbey Road?”

  “Mother …” Lark rolled her eyes.

  “Sorry, but I wouldn’t be much of a label boss if I didn’t at least ask. The boys are already at the dinner table. If we don’t hurry, there might not be anything left for us.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” said Lark, popping off the bed with a smile. “I mean, with Fitzy’s cooking, we might be better off.”

  “I made her promise to keep it simple tonight,” said Donna, taking Lark’s hand as they headed for the stairs. “No exotic spices, no wacky flavor combinations. Just a plain old roast.”

  Lark grimaced. “Please tell me you specified what kind of meat she should be roasting. Knowing Fitzy, it might be wild boar. Or rattlesnake.”

  They found the boys arranged around the kitchen table, and Lark was happy to see that Teddy had seated himself in the chair beside her usual one.

  Fitzy, in an apron reading, If at First You Don’t Succeed, Fry, Fry Again, was already serving the meal: roast beef, mashed potatoes, and peas, all of which smelled deliciously ordinary.

  “Please pass the potatoes,” said Lark, slipping into her chair.

  As Ollie reached for the bowl, he accidentally brushed his cuff through the gravy on his plate, smearing it with brown sauce.