Katie Cox vs. the Boy Band

by Marianne Levy

  And now my heart was thumping, bang, bang, bang…no, it was my bedroom door. My door was thumping. “Katie. Katie. Katie.”

  “What?”

  “I have to get up early for work tomorrow,” my sister said. “So I would really like some sleep.”

  And even I could see that denying Amanda access to her bed would lead to the kind of conversation I could do without.

  “Maybe we should stop for the night,” I told Jaz. “Thanks, though.”

  “For what? I didn’t do anything. That was all you.”

  “Well, thanks anyway.”

  I unlocked the door, and there was Amanda. I smiled at her, but her face was not smiling back. It was doing the very opposite of smiling, in fact.

  “What the—”

  We looked at the contents of her drawers, spread all over everything.

  “You do not touch my stuff,” said Amanda slowly, sounding sad and angry at the same time.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “See ya then,” said Jaz, flitting past her, down the stairs, and out the front door.

  “I thought we were doing okay, sharing,” said Mands. “I trusted you. And now I find you going through my personal things, with Jaz, of all people…”

  “Mands, it wasn’t me. It was all her. She just started looking—there was nothing I could do.”

  Amanda was shoveling her stuff out of my reach. “Fine.”

  And I wanted to tell her what had just happened. I wanted, no, needed, to talk to her, to figure out whether any of this was okay. In fact—

  “Katie, shut your laptop and go to sleep.”

  And in case I was still in any doubt about her feelings, she turned out the light.

  My World

  Life is better

  In my phone

  While it’s on

  I’m not alone

  In my laptop

  Feels more real

  My fingers talk

  Say what I feel

  Won’t turn it off

  Don’t think I can

  It’s part of life

  It’s who I am

  It’s brighter there

  I’m better there

  Words that float so pure and free

  I can be who I want to be

  In a sharp and shiny

  Lit-up world

  That made itself for me

  My screen won’t tell me

  I’m too young

  It reads my words

  Hears what I’ve sung

  Yeah, those strangers aren’t my friends

  Only care when my name trends

  But there, the party never ends

  Never ends

  It’s brighter there

  We’re better there

  Words that float so pure and free

  I can be who I want to be

  In a sharp and shiny

  Lit-up world

  That made itself for me

  Yeah, tonight has been bizarre

  Taking down a real star

  I guess maybe I’ve gone too far

  Gone too far

  But

  It’s brighter there

  We’re better there

  Words that float so pure and free

  I can be who I want to be

  In a sharp and shiny

  Lit-up world

  That made itself for me

  “Katie.”

  Someone was calling me. Amanda! Thank goodness. We were going to have the conversation we should have had last night.

  “Mands?” I croaked.

  “Katie.”

  Amanda sounded different. Her voice was younger and higher. More like Lacey’s.

  “Katie.”

  My bleary eyes tried to focus through a crust of sleep and yesterday’s makeup. Mands was looking weirdly like Lacey too.

  “Katie.”

  Could it be possible that my sister had somehow morphed into my best friend?

  “Wake up, Katie.”

  “Aaaaaaaaaaargh…Lace?!”

  I sat up to find Lacey at the foot of my bed. She was fully dressed, and she was looking rather worried.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I think so. Give me a sec.” I took a deep breath and glanced around the room.

  Little specks of dust danced in the sunlight. Clothes on the floor. My guitar in the corner. Amanda’s perfectly made bed. Everything was where it normally would be. Except the person currently standing opposite me.

  “Why are you here? It’s Saturday morning. Shouldn’t you be”—I tried to think what a normal person might do on a Saturday morning—“asleep?”

  “I got my brother to drive me over.”

  “Wuh?” I know I sounded dense, but it was still very early.

  Not even eleven o’clock.

  Lacey opened a paper bag and thrust something sticky across the bed at me. An apple turnover. I ate a piece and then the whole thing and began to feel slightly more awake.

  “Fanks, Lacey.”

  I will say this for my BF. She may be a little fickle when it comes to her choice of companions, but that girl knows how to brunch.

  “No problem. Do you want another one? They were on three-for-two.”

  “Split it?”

  “Okay.”

  We had a quiet chew.

  “Where’s your sister?” said Lacey, looking over at her smooth navy duvet cover. Amanda’s drawers were closed, the closet shut. It was as though last night’s Jaz rampage had never happened.

  “Went to work, I guess,” I said.

  “How can you sleep through someone else getting up right next to you?”

  Lacey, I should say, cannot sleep with even a little bit of noise in her bedroom. I know this because when I stay over, I can barely breathe without her complaining. That girl hears everything. Even the tiniest possible fart. Which I hardly noticed I did until she started to laugh.

  “I’m great at not listening,” I said. “It’s my super skill. Just as well, given that we share the room.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “Not very well,” I admitted. “Jaz was kind of irritating her last night. I’m finding that friendship a little…difficult.”

  “Then why did you invite her?” said Lacey.

  “Because you were at Paige’s,” I said, and we both went quiet.

  “Um, yeah,” said Lacey. “I came over to say sorry about that. It was, well, Paige was saying we had to go over all the pictures from the concert, and I totally forgot about the dance party and…” She saw that her apology wasn’t going down so well and trailed off. “And I know you’re going through some stuff, and I’m so…sorry.”

  “S’okay,” I mumbled. “Cool.”

  I pried a piece of apple turnover from the roof of my mouth, chewed, and thought about it. What, exactly, had I been so worked up about last night? In the Saturday morning sunshine, with a nice breeze coming in from across the fields and the washing machine grumbling away downstairs, it was hard to remember.

  “Hey, no school today,” I said, suddenly feeling incredibly happy. “So are you sticking around? I should probably work on some stuff for my showcase thing. It would be nice to have some help.”

  “Sure,” said Lacey. Then she added, “Maybe take a shower first.”

  • • •

  A few minutes later, I staggered downstairs to find Adrian sitting at the kitchen table. He was kind of frowning at me. “Morning.”

  “Why aren’t you at the shop?” Saturdays at Vox Vinyl are so busy that it takes both Adrian and Amanda to keep a handle on things.

  “There’s someone at the front door for you. A journalist.”

  “What? Why? Aren’t
you going to let them in?”

  “I thought we should have a chat first, make a plan…Katie, come back! Katie…”

  I opened the door, and there, in the front yard, was a small man with brown hair, talking into his phone. When he saw me, he hung up right away and gave me a smile so huge I swear I caught a glimpse of his molars.

  “Hi!”

  “Hi,” I said. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Chris. Chris Murrell. From NTV News. Could I by any chance use your bathroom?”

  “Of course you can,” I said, showing him inside. “It’s in there. You have to flush it three times before it works, but that’s normal. Have a good…one.”

  “Thanks!”

  I turned around to see Lacey and Adrian making huge, silent faces at me.

  What? I mimed.

  Their mouths were moving very fast.

  Slow down.

  Their mouths moved fractionally slower. The toilet flushed three times.

  Their mouths moved extremely big and fast.

  “Hi!” said Chris the journalist, coming out of the bathroom.

  “Cup of tea, Chris?” said Adrian, managing to make those few words sound like he’d lost a battle.

  “Love one,” said Chris, coming in and sitting down at the table like he was a Cox-kitchen regular. “So, Katie, love, love, love the new single.”

  “Milk?” said Adrian from over by the kettle. “Sugar? And how did you get our address?”

  “Milk, one sugar, thanks. Now what made you write that wonderful song?”

  “Oh. You really like it?”

  Chris’s eyes were gleaming. I had never seen anyone so awake before noon. “I absolutely adore it. You have a real talent for singing what the rest of us are thinking. It’s going to be a hit.”

  “Um.” I hadn’t really thought of whether it would do well or not. But now that I did… “Do you think so?”

  “I know so,” said Chris. “And how it came out, leaked on the Internet, and by Kurt from Karamel. Everyone’s all over the backstory.”

  “You certainly are,” said Lacey, helping herself to my secret stash of Cocoa Krispies.

  “I’ve never liked them,” I said. “Boy band? More like boy bland.”

  “Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!” Chris smacked the table in appreciation, making the Cocoa Krispies rattle. “That’s really clever!”

  Finally.

  “And this must be a big week for you, single out, first concert. How are you feeling?”

  “Look, sorry, but no,” said Adrian, sitting down between us. “We don’t know who you are—”

  “His name is Chris,” I said helpfully.

  “Or where you’re from—”

  “NTV News,” said Chris.

  “You just show up on our doorstep, no explanation, and start questioning Katie, and that’s not acceptable. Here’s your tea. Milk, one sugar.”

  “Great, thanks,” said Chris. “Well, okay, I’m a journalist, as I said, and a huuuuge fan.”

  “Thanks!”

  “I’m just really excited about the next chapter of the whole Katie Cox saga.”

  “How did you get our address?” said Adrian.

  “And I thought I’d get a couple of quick comments ahead of what’s going to be a major few days for you! So this whole Karamel thing. I know where you’re coming from. You’ve set up this battle, haven’t you? Real music versus manufactured pop! The whole industry is starting to take notice.”

  “No!”

  “No,” said Lacey.

  “Yes! And that online spat, last night, it was fantastic.”

  “What online spat?” said Adrian.

  “I was thinking I might go back and delete that,” I said.

  Chris slammed his cup onto the table. “Katie, you can’t!”

  “I can’t?”

  “You know that your single’s out the same day as Karamel’s? We’re thinking this could be a lead story. Battle of the bands!”

  “Katie isn’t a band,” said Lacey.

  “What online spat?” said Adrian.

  Chris was looking as excited as I’d ever seen a person. Certainly more excited than, say, my manager and my best friend, who were, respectively, drumming their meaty fingers on the table and letting my precious Cocoa Krispies turn to brown junk. If you’re going to steal a person’s Cocoa Krispies, at least bother to eat them.

  “So what we’re thinking is, we lead with your crusade to bring music back to its roots. No more team-written singles for manufactured bands. Get the industry back to homegrown, genuine talent. People with something to say. Never mind good looks and Auto-Tuned voices.”

  “Katie looks okay,” said Lacey.

  “That’s not what he meant,” I told her, although a tiny part of me thought that maybe it was.

  “And so it’s you in one corner and your amazing new song, and in the other, Karamel, with their overproduced single and stadium tour and T-shirts that cost fifty dollars each—can you believe it?”

  “Fifty dollars! Who spends that much on a T-shirt?”

  Lacey coughed. Then, when I looked at her, she said, “Savannah might have bought me one. Early birthday present.”

  “But it wasn’t your birthday. It was my birthday.”

  “Have mine, if you want one that much.”

  “I don’t want one.”

  “Then why are we—”

  “You’re the one who—”

  “Ahem,” said Adrian.

  We looked up to see that Chris was watching us. It occurred to me that I probably shouldn’t have an argument with my bestie in front of a journalist. Even if I was right.

  “So,” said Chris, as though he saw this kind of thing every day, “we thought, we’ll interview Kurt in the wings at your concert, you doing your thing in the background, and then you’ll come to his, and we’ll do the same. Show both interviews that night, talk about your singles, see who wins. It’s just what we’re looking for right now, all the right elements, youth, music, social media…”

  “All right…I guess…”

  He stood up. “So that’s a yes? Fantastic!”

  “No.” Adrian rose to his feet like a kind of mountain, if a mountain can be wearing a Keane T-shirt and need a shave. “I don’t know how you got our address. But the answer is no. All our press goes through Top Music, and I imagine they’ll take a pretty dim view of this…this…media intrusion.”

  I have to say it was very impressive. Only Chris didn’t flinch. If anything, his smile got even brighter.

  “Of course. Totally get that. But you know, it was Tony who gave me your address. Tony Topper? He loves the story. Even moved the single release dates around so that they’d coincide. He’s one hundred and fifty percent behind it.”

  “You can’t be more than one hundred percent anything,” said Lacey, which was ironic because I was pretty sure she was 150 percent against this.

  “Katie’s too young to get into some power play to sell singles,” said Adrian. “I don’t think Tony Topper has her best interests at heart.”

  Chris’s head jerked up. “Really? Can I quote you on that?”

  “No!”

  “Now, look,” said Chris. “Maybe he doesn’t. And I know that you do. I respect that. Which is why, I say, let’s listen to Katie. Ask her what she wants.”

  “I…I…” Adrian was clearly trying not to say that he didn’t care what I wanted.

  “She’s found her voice,” said Chris. “Are we the ones to silence her?”

  “Someone should,” murmured Lacey.

  Thanks, Team Katie. Thanks a bunch. In fact…

  “Okay,” I said, first softly, then loudly. “Okay! I stand by what I said last night. Let’s do it.”

  “Terrific,” said Chris. “I’ll be in touch.”
<
br />   “I’m calling Tony,” said Adrian.

  Then we were back in the hall, and Chris was giving me a tiny salute, already on his phone as he stepped down into the front yard.

  “She’s a yes. Family’s not interested, but…” And then he was gone.

  There was one of those silences where everyone is shouting stuff in their heads.

  “What?” I said. “Come on. Spit it out.”

  Adrian eyeballed me for a second. Then he said, “I can’t argue with you on this one, Katie. I don’t like manufactured bands any more than you do. And I agree, the industry’s overcommercialized.”

  “But…?” I said.

  “But…this is a big deal. You’re going out there, saying this stuff. A lot of people will get upset. And when people get upset, they get angry. And you’re so young. You have your whole life to tell the world what you think. I just figure that maybe, this time, you should keep your thoughts to yourself.”

  “So you’re saying that because I’m young, my opinions don’t count?”

  “No, I’m not saying that.”

  “Because that’s what it sounds like.” Then… “Dad would let me.”

  I did know that this was the equivalent of pressing the big red button, and there’d be all kinds of fallout. And I wasn’t happy about it. I wasn’t happy at all, especially when I saw Adrian’s face.

  But—NTV News! I mean, come on!

  “I can’t stop you,” said Adrian.

  I looked over to Lacey, who shrugged.

  “Great,” I said. And then I said, “It’s probably not that much of a story anyway.”

  Adrian went to the shop. Mom was at work, and Dad, who’d been out on a run, came in, took a long shower, and then settled down on the sofa.

  So Lace and I stayed up in my room and tried to work out a set list for the concert.

  Which was, now that I allowed myself to think about it, in four days.

  Four days was really soon.

  Breathe, breathe, breathe.

  “I’ll start with ‘London Yeah,’” I said. “Because I’ll be in London. That works, doesn’t it? Or maybe I should do ‘Just Me.’”

  “Are you sure you don’t want Savannah to dress you?” said Lacey. “She has these wonderful sparkly hot pants from her sister, and they’re way too big for her, gigantic, really, so we thought…”