Katie Cox vs. the Boy Band

by Marianne Levy

  “No, stay,” I said weakly. “Unless it’s important. Or, you know, not important.”

  And then she was gone.

  “Where does she get that garbage?” said Lacey.

  “I know,” I said, hating myself, and Jaz, and myself all over again.

  “So?” said Lacey. “What are you going to say to them? You can’t let them have the last word.”

  I opened my laptop and thought for a second. Lacey was watching the screen as I typed:

  To all the fans who bought my single, THANK YOU. Karamel—u guys still suck. And yr army of zombies doesn’t change anything. Rock & roll K x

  I hit return. “Okay. Done. It’s all finished.”

  “Finished?” said Lacey, the color rising in her cheeks, like when Mom has that cocktail involving cranberry and orange juice. “This is just the beginning.”

  “Of what?” I said.

  “Your comeback.”

  “Oh. Because I was kind of thinking I might shut up for a while.”

  The flush was now all the way to the top of Lacey’s face. “It’s not like nobody bought the single. You’re at seventy-eight!”

  “Which is garbage.”

  “It is not garbage. It’s really good, and you are only going to get better. You are going to build on your fan base, and you are going to write more great songs. I believe in you, Katie.”

  “That’s great, Lace,” I said. “But, honestly, I’m not sure that I do believe in myself.”

  There was a weird sound, like a cat meowing, and for a second, I thought maybe the mice had learned a new skill, only then I realized it was Lacey’s phone.

  “New ringtone,” said Lacey, bouncing to her feet. “Sofie did it for me. Do you want it for yours?”

  I shook my head.

  “Mom’s outside in the car,” said Lacey. “Gotta go, K.”

  “Thanks for coming.”

  “I’m so glad I did,” said Lacey. “Remember: you are—”

  “Don’t say it!”

  “And you’ll always be—”

  “Please…”

  “My number one,” said Lacey.

  “Ugh, you are so cheesy,” I said. “Get out.”

  She got out.

  I was on my own.

  The bedroom felt incredibly empty. Like there were too many spaces between the molecules of air. Spaces that, under any normal circumstance, I would have filled with music.

  Something like…I scrolled through my playlists…

  Amy? Nah, too dark. Mraz? Too light.

  What I needed was…no.

  No…

  Yes.

  A quick few taps and there they were, three boys beaming from my screen, the notes flowing through my headphones and lifting me up and away from all the weirdness, onto a golden cloud where everything was still okay.

  Lacey was completely right. It had all been pretty humiliating, but I’d come through just fine. Number seventy-eight wasn’t nothing. People still basically liked me. Lacey still liked me.

  Thank goodness I hadn’t told her the truth.

  Jaz wasn’t on the bus come Monday morning. I was so used to her presence in the back seat that to see it empty was kind of a shock. A couple of the sixth graders quickly plunked themselves onto her place, then bounced back up again, as though she was somehow watching and might swoop in and destroy them.

  She really wasn’t there, though. I had to remind myself that, historically, Jaz had always had a pretty relaxed attitude to things like attendance and learning. Her absence didn’t necessarily mean anything.

  I guess I was particularly sensitive about things because everyone was being a little odd. Toward me.

  It started with a sixth-grade girl smacking me with her bag as we got onto the bus, in a way that could have been an accident but clearly wasn’t. After that, no one said anything to me at all. Fin didn’t even bother trying to shake his empty bag of chips over my head. I guess I should have been grateful.

  Only, coming off my weird weekend, I guess I was just feeling a little uneasy. Mom and Adrian were being so relentlessly positive that I could barely look at them. Dad, meanwhile, jumped out of his seat every time I came into the room, like he was waiting for me to catch on fire or melt down, and Amanda, well, I’d barely seen her. I was really looking forward to getting to school, which is saying something.

  As I walked through the door of the classroom, I heard someone say:

  “Here she is.”

  And someone else say:

  “This is going to be interesting.”

  And then Paige and Sofie just came at me like they were a pair of pigeons and I was a potato chip:

  “Katie, it’s…?”

  “What are you…?”

  Then they ran out of words.

  “Can someone please tell me what happened?”

  Silence. The whole class just stared.

  “Someone? Anyone?”

  The crowd parted to reveal Savannah, her beautiful face looking beautifully pale.

  “We saw. Don’t try to deny it, Katie. We all know.”

  Holding out her gold-plated phone like it was some kind of religious offering, she began to walk toward me with these slow steps that seemed designed to make me want to scream. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait the five minutes it would have taken for her to get to me. I just leaned forward and snatched it.

  HYPOCRITE

  In her latest single, teen sensation Katie Cox tells us that she hates boy bands.

  But we know better.

  An unnamed source, speaking exclusively to Pop Trash, told how Cox, watching from the wings of the Karamel concert, laughed, smiled, clapped, and sang to lead singer Kurt Thorpe, before engaging in a long and personal chat with him just after the show ended. Whatever she’s been telling her fans, Ms. Cox clearly has ideas of her own.

  The revelations come after what was billed by Top Music as the greatest chart battle in twenty years, between Cox’s brand of “real” music and the more processed sound so beloved of Karamel’s fans. Thorpe took to social media to state, “Peace and love to all our fans who bought the single and to all who bought Katie Cox’s song,” while Cox’s account carried the message, “Karamel—u guys still suck.”

  Despite her strong words, in her interview with NTV News, Cox appeared unsettled. Clearly coming so close to her idols left the young singer-songwriter a little hot under the collar.

  With her single languishing at the bottom of the charts, we ask, is now the time for Katie Cox to come clean about her deception? Her remaining fans obviously deserve the truth.

  “Yeah.” I looked up from the phone to see Lacey right in front of me. She was gripping Savannah’s hand. “I think a little bit of truth would be nice.”

  “But…where…how did they…who…?”

  “That’s today’s Pop Trash,” said Paige, who I think thought she was being helpful. “And it’s on TMZ too, and Mail Online and Jezebel. And E! And Perez Hilton did this whole thing… I’ll send it to you if you want.”

  “It’s not true,” I said hopelessly. It was, after all, absolutely true.

  “You lie, and you lie, and you lie,” said Lacey.

  “I…”

  “It explains so much!” She was talking more to herself than she was to me. “Why you were humming ‘Clap Your Hands’ in the bathroom last week. Why you didn’t invite me to their concert with you. Why you wanted me to come over and play all their songs.”

  I couldn’t speak.

  “And you told Jaz?”

  I still couldn’t speak. Instead, I found myself looking down at my wrist and fiddling like crazy with my birthday charm bracelet, as if there was a chance that some tiny chunks of silver might save me, which there was no way they could.

  “I don’t want you wearing that
,” said Lacey. “Take it off.”

  Everything seemed to go dark.

  “It’s very hard,” said another voice. “I mean, obvs, I’ve known Katie for a while, and we’re in the same class. But I think my loyalties have to be with my boyfriend Kolin because he is very upset and completely blameless, and he is my boyfriend so I do need to be there for him right now, since he is my boyfriend. Also, Katie is clearly rotten to the core.”

  “You’re a very loyal person, Savannah.”

  “I know. I can’t help it.”

  A buzz of conversation around me and then Ms. McAllister’s voice: “Good morning, everyone. Savannah, that skirt is not even close to regulation length. I would ask you take it off, but I doubt I’d notice. Please go to the office right now and ask for something from lost and found. And someone catch Katie. She is clearly about to faint.”

  Then I was on the floor, my teacher’s face filling my vision. “Katie?”

  “I’m all right,” I said.

  “You are gray,” said McAllister. “Lacey, take Katie to the nurse’s office.”

  “No,” said Lacey.

  “Wh—oh, for goodness’ sake. I will take her myself.” Then, like she was Tarzan and I was Jane, McAllister lifted me into her arms. “The rest of you, assembly.”

  • • •

  It was Dad who drove me home, in a sleek silver car I hadn’t seen before.

  “A Honda Jazz, would you believe? And I asked for a brand-new BMW!”

  “What? Where?” I was still having trouble forming sentences.

  “Car rental. Your Adrian didn’t seem to want me to borrow his anymore, so I made the trip to Hertz.” He thumped the wheel. “The joys of the open road!”

  “Umph.”

  “You all right?”

  “Er, not really. That’s why I was sent home from school.”

  “I thought you were just faking!”

  “No,” I said. “I feel terrible.”

  “Don’t puke on the upholstery, okay?”

  “I won’t.”

  I managed to stagger up the driveway and into my bedroom, Dad standing in the doorway.

  “Can I get you anything, princess?”

  I managed a laugh. “Did you see the stories?” After four tries, I managed to unhook the bracelet, and I dropped it onto my bedside table, where it sat in a sad little heap. “Maybe you could get me a new life.”

  He flapped a hand. “That garbage? Ignore it!”

  “Dad…I can’t.”

  “By this time tomorrow, everyone will have forgotten it.” He patted his pocket. “Got to go, K. You take a little nap. Your mom’ll be up soon.”

  I did try to sleep, but it’s not easy at eleven in the morning, even for someone as good at it as me.

  All I could think was that someone had betrayed me. Jaz?

  Jaz.

  No wonder she hadn’t come to school.

  Only…

  No, of course it was her.

  Of course it was.

  Can’t believe u went to Pop Trash, Jaz.

  I thought we were friends.

  The message came back a moment later.

  Can’t believe you’d think I’d do that.

  And I thought we were friends 2.

  But…

  U were the only one I told

  Katie, read the article thoroughly. I wasn’t at the concert was I?

  I read it again. And—aargh—she was right.

  An unnamed source, speaking exclusively to Pop Trash, told how Cox, watching from the wings of the Karamel concert laughed, smiled, clapped, and sang to lead singer Kurt Thorpe, before engaging in a long and personal chat with him just after the concert ended.

  Jaz couldn’t have known that.

  Sry Jaz

  No reply.

  So if it wasn’t Jaz, then it had to be someone else.

  Of course. It was so obvious. I don’t know why I’d ever thought it was Jaz.

  When it was Kurt.

  He had seen me cheer for him. He knew I was still releasing my song.

  I’d betray me, under the same circumstances.

  Only…when we’d talked, I guess I’d thought we had some kind of connection, in a way I’d never really had with a boy before. Scratch that. In a way I’d never really had with anyone.

  Which just made me hate him more. I opened my laptop.

  KTCoX: Shocked Kurt_Karamel would sell me out like that just 2 get his single to chart

  In my head I could hear Amanda and Lacey telling me that I should step away from the keyboard. But only in my head. It wasn’t like either of them was actually there.

  I hit return.

  Kurt_Karamel: Nothing to do with me. But v glad to hear u r a fan :-)

  KTCoX: U sold me 2 the press

  Kurt_Karamel: I would never do that. You know I wouldn’t.

  Which did sort of feel true.

  Then I caught myself. Never mind feelings. The point was, he had.

  KTCoX: I know what I see

  Kurt_Karamel: Out of line, Katie. You need to apologize right now

  KTCoX: U need to apologize. To me and to all of HUMANITY

  Which felt pretty satisfying, I can tell you. What could he possibly come back with? I waited.

  And waited. Then I refreshed.

  And refreshed and refreshed.

  And nothing. Except that, after a few seconds, his feed vanished.

  He’d gone and blocked me! Which kind of said it all.

  And I’d trusted him.

  I let out a howl.

  “What? Are you all right? Your father said you came home from school…”

  Mom’s head came poking around the door. She looked exhausted. Night shifts are always hard on her, but this was something worse.

  “I felt a little funny,” I said as she padded across the floor to feel my throat with warm fingertips.

  “You’ll live. Did you drink some water? Take some aspirin?”

  I hadn’t, but I nodded.

  “This is about that story, isn’t it? I’ve been getting messages all morning.”

  “Yes,” I said. “But I’m okay. I am.”

  “Are you?”

  “By this time tomorrow, everyone will have forgotten about it.”

  She folded her arms. “That’s just the sort of thing your father would say.”

  “It’s fine, Mom.”

  She looked at me strangely for a moment, as though she was trying to decide whether or not to say something. Then: “Adrian called. Top Music asked if you might go in to see them about your album.”

  “Really?” I felt slightly better. No, a lot better.

  A meeting, in that glass office, with the cookies and the black-and-white photos.

  And most of all, a chance to go back and agree to record that song about partying late or kittens or whatever.

  Because if that’s what it would take to get back into Top Music’s good books, I’d do it. Those lyrics they’d shown me weren’t bad, not really, and a tune was even starting to suggest itself, a fast, rumbly set of chords, leading into a—

  “Katie, this isn’t good for you. I’m saying this as your mother. Stop now. It’s gone too far.”

  “I said I’d stop when it was making me unhappy. And I’m happy! I’m really happy! I’m going to see my label. To plan my album!”

  She gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’m going to bed.”

  I stretched out and looked up, through my window and into the clouds.

  “Katie! Great to see you! Thanks for coming by on such short notice.”

  “That’s okay. It wasn’t like I was doing anything else,” I said, and at the same time, Adrian said, “Good to see you, Tony.”

  We were standin
g in the lobby of Top Music, that glass ceiling slicing up the sunshine and throwing it down over us like liquid confetti.

  “Okay, let’s go on up,” said Tony. “Did you get here all right? Traffic?”

  “Took the train,” said Adrian. “You know what the M25 can be like.”

  “I do,” said Tony, in what was clearly one of the most boring conversations in human history. “I always say to Emma, it’s worth having a decent car. We spend enough time in it.”

  “What you driving these days, Tone?”

  “A Maserati—not as much fun as I’d like, but it does the job. You?”

  Thank goodness I was so nervous, otherwise I’d probably have fallen asleep.

  We sat down opposite Tony’s enormous desk, with its collection of leather-framed photos: Tony and a pretty blonde lady on the deck of a boat, his shirt open and his tan deeper than ever; Tony and Karamel, on the stage of what looked like the X Factor; and a new one of Tony being interviewed by Chris on NTV News.

  No cookies today, I noticed.

  Tony leaned forward and fixed me with his gaze. “Well, now.”

  “Mmm.”

  “This is.”

  “Mm?”

  We seemed to have gotten stuck just making noises at each other. I decided to nudge things along.

  “Is…this…about the last few days?” I said.

  “It is,” said Tony. “How would you say it’s been going?”

  I sat up. “Well, not great, obviously.”

  Tony nodded, once then twice.

  “So I guess the question is, what do we do next?”

  I gave him what was supposed to be my most charming smile. “It’s clear that I’m not the best person to be in control of…me…so I’m willing to do whatever you tell me to do.”

  Under the table, I felt Adrian give my knee a squeeze. We both waited.

  “Katie,” said Tony. “Katie, Katie, Katie. You are really something, you know that?”

  “Yes!”

  “I’ve never met an artist quite like you. In fact, I’ve never met an artist anything like you.”

  Adrian gave me the tiniest of winks.

  “You do go your own sweet way, don’t you?”

  “I do!”

  “Look,” said Tony. “The problem is this. Karamel are now at number one. And your single has dropped down to ninety-four. How can I put this? People don’t buy music that’s based on hate. They buy out of love.”