“Must be all the lovely sunshine that’s inspired me,” Aidan said, his voice dripping with false modesty.
“I told you it would come,” Lark’s mom gushed. “All writers get writer’s block from time to time.”
“One minute there was nothing, and the next, I had a whole song.”
There’s a word for that, Lark thought bitterly. It’s “plagiarism.”
All she had to do was say it. All she had to do was tell her mother the truth and Aidan Harrington would be on the next plane back to London.
And that, of course, was the problem. The realization hit Lark like a punch. Aidan had already been warned about his reckless conduct; there was no way her mother would tolerate another instance of bad behavior. And ripping off the manager’s daughter certainly qualified. If her mom knew Aidan had stolen Lark’s work, surely she’d send him packing and that would be the end of Abbey Road. All the time and money she’d already invested would have been wasted. Any possibility of Lotus Records’ turning a profit would be destroyed. She wasn’t ready to do that to her mother.
“Lark, where are your manners?” her mother prompted, laughing. “Tell Aidan what you think of his song.” Then she headed out of the room, shouting over her shoulder, “I’m just going to call the office and tell them the good news—we have a future hit on our hands!”
Lark clenched her fists and took a deep breath. “I love the song,” she said through gritted teeth. “In fact, I couldn’t love it more if I had written it myself.”
Aidan replied with a triumphant smirk.
The subtle route clearly wasn’t going to work. “You stole my song,” she accused him.
“Prove it,” Aidan challenged her. “Go get your little diary and show your mummy. I’m sure she’d be very interested to read all about your crush.”
Lark’s cheeks burned with embarrassment and indignation. She felt sick at the thought of Aidan laughing at her lovesick doodles—and even sicker at the thought of showing them to her mom.
“I did us all a favor,” Aidan hissed. “We need a hit—your mom more than anyone. So what if I got a little, er, inspiration from your notebook. If you rat on me, we don’t have a song. And if we don’t have a song, we don’t have an album, so you can kiss this fancy house good-bye.”
Lark stared at Aidan, speechless at his audacity. Then she bolted from the room before he could see her tears. She knew what this could mean for Lotus Records—and for her mom—but she had to do what was right. She couldn’t let Aidan get away with this.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
“He is such a jerk!” said Mimi. Her face on Lark’s computer screen looked angry and concerned. “Why didn’t you tell your mom he was lying?”
Lark drew a deep, shuddering breath and wiped her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. She’d already been crying for half an hour when the distinctive Skype chimes had alerted her to Mimi’s call. She’d answered with a fresh burst of sobs that had Mimi fearing the worst—that things with Teddy had been a disaster.
But a tearful Lark had informed Mimi that the first Reese-Campbell collaboration had been nothing short of perfection. It was the rest of the afternoon that had totally sucked. Then, with her stomach churning and her heart aching, she’d told Mimi about Aidan ripping off her new song.
“You can’t let that thieving creep do this, Lark,” Mimi advised. “You have to tell your mother the truth!”
“I know, but what difference would it make? Aidan would just say I was the one who was lying and make me prove I wrote the song.”
“Which you can do easily enough by showing your mother your songwriting journal.”
“You know I can’t do that,” said Lark with a quiver in her voice. “I’d die of embarrassment. She’ll tell me I’m too young to be thinking about boys. Then she’ll take all my songs, add a techno backbeat, and sell them to some ditzy blond pop-star wannabe for zillions of dollars.”
“I seriously doubt that,” said Mimi, rolling her eyes. “But just out of curiosity, which scares you more? Your mom knowing you like Teddy, or your mom knowing you write awesome songs?”
“The Teddy thing, I guess,” Lark confessed. “I mean, maybe I could bring myself to prove Aidan stole my song if there was a way to do it without handing over my private journal. But it’s too humiliating. I mean, c’mon. I bet you didn’t tell your mom you have a giant crush on Ollie.”
“I didn’t have to,” said Mimi. “The eight million pictures I now have hanging all over my room sort of gave it away.”
Lark giggled despite her horrible mood and considered her options. “I suppose my mom wouldn’t exactly be shocked to find out about my songwriting. I am my dad’s daughter, after all. She probably suspects I’ve got a song or two in me.”
“A song or two? Girlfriend, you are a bottomless pit of music and lyrics!” Mimi laughed, then tilted her head thoughtfully. “Could it be that it’s not the thought of some ditzy blonde singing your songs that scares you? Maybe what really terrifies you is knowing that if your mom did find out how much talent you’ve got, she’d be doing the same thing to you that she’s doing to Abbey Road. She’d be doing everything in her power to make you a star.”
Lark bit her lip. “Maybe. I guess.”
“For most singers, that would be a dream come true.”
“Yeah, well, for me, it’s my worst nightmare.”
Mimi was quiet for a moment. “Lark,” she said at last, “did you ever think that maybe this is all happening for a reason? I know Aidan did a crummy thing, but won’t you even entertain the possibility that this is just the universe’s way of telling you it’s time to let the whole world know what a super-gifted singer-songwriter you are?” Mimi shrugged. “I’m just sayin’ . . . it might be time for you to face this crazy stage fright of yours and sing in front of people.”
“I’m playing guitar in the talent show,” Lark said, hating the whine in her voice. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Yeah, about that . . .” On the computer screen, Mimi’s expression showed a flicker of hurt.
“What’s wrong?” asked Lark.
“Well, it’s just that, when I asked you if I could premiere our music video as part of the talent show, you flat-out refused because you didn’t want to be on display. But when Teddy came along and batted his big blue eyes at you, you jumped at the chance.”
Lark frowned. “He didn’t bat. And I didn’t jump. It was just . . . I don’t know . . . different.”
“Right,” Mimi grumbled. “Different.” She sighed and shook her head. “I gotta go,” she said curtly. “Homework.”
“Meems, wait . . .”
But Mimi was gone.
“Could this day get any worse?” Lark asked out loud. “I mean, really. What else has the universe got planned for me today?”
It was at that moment, as if the so-called universe had decided to answer her, that Lark’s phone dinged, alerting her to a new message.
It was from Mimi. So maybe her best friend wasn’t as angry as she’d seemed.
With a surge of hope, Lark opened the message, then frowned in confusion at the YouTube link Mimi had sent her. “A video?”
She looked at the message Mimi had included: SHOW THIS TO YOUR MOM. I’LL TAKE IT DOWN AS SOON AS YOU DO. Lark smiled as realization dawned. “A video!”
Lark sprang off the bed, ran down the hall, and flew down the stairs.
She burst into her mother’s office with one word on her lips. “‘Homesick’!” she cried, holding out her smartphone.
Donna looked up from a pile of paperwork at her desk. “Still? Well, I’m sorry honey, I know you miss Nashville, but this is where we live now.”
“No!” said Lark. “I’m not telling you that I am homesick . . . I mean, I am, but that’s not the point. I want you to see a video. Of a song called ‘Homesick.’”
She thrust the phone under her mother’s nose.
“What’s this?” Donna smiled in anticipation. “A new act yo
u want me to see?”
“God no!” Lark ground her teeth in frustration. “It is definitely not a new ‘act.’ Heck, is that all you ever think about? Business? For once, can something not be about an act or a deal or a brand marketing strategy?”
“Lark, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this,” Lark hollered, shaking the phone. “I’m talking about me!”
Hand trembling, she hit the Play arrow and handed the phone to her mom. The tiny screen came alive with an image of Lark strumming her guitar as she ambled across the lush green grass of the backyard.
“If home is where the heart is . . . if that’s what people say . . .”
Donna could only stare, her eyes wide, her mouth opened into a small O of surprise.
“I can’t feel the rhythm, and I can’t hear the rhyme . . .”
Lark couldn’t stop her own feet from tapping, and by the second chorus, she noticed that her mother’s were, too. It wasn’t until she heard her own voice singing the final lyrics that Lark realized she had been holding her breath. The music faded away with a close-up of Lark’s face against the brilliant blue of the sky.
Then, silence.
Lark waited for her mother to say something. “How could he do such a thing?” would be nice, or maybe “I never saw this coming.” Even “What is this?” would have been better than this complete and utter silence.
Lark was about to slink away in shame when Donna slowly turned her head and met Lark’s gaze.
That was when Lark saw the tears in her mother’s eyes.
“Aidan, may I have a word, please.”
Aidan looked up from the computer game he was playing with an expression of innocence on his handsome face. “Something wrong?”
“You bet there is,” said Donna.
Lark stood in the doorway of the practice room and watched with a mixture of amazement and satisfaction as her mother crooked her index finger at Aidan. Ollie and Max exchanged glances as their bandmate removed himself from the overstuffed chair and strutted across the room toward Lark’s mother.
“In my office. Now.”
“That’s an awful long walk,” said Aidan with an insolent chuckle. “Why don’t you just say your piece right here?”
“Fine,” said Donna tersely. “What I’ve got to say is this: you’re out.”
“Out?” Aidan’s careless stance didn’t falter. “Out of what?”
“Of his mind,” Ollie quipped under his breath.
“Out of luck,” Donna retorted. “Out of chances . . . but most of all, out of the band.”
“Seriously?” said Max.
Donna continued to glare at Aidan. “I warned you after that sneaking out nonsense that you were on thin ice. And now you go and do . . . this!”
“This?” Ollie echoed. “This what? Bloody hell, Aidan, what have you gone and done now?”
“He stole a song,” Lark explained. “From me.”
Max looked ready to spit. “You stole a song from Lark? God, Aidan, you’re an even bigger jerk than I thought!”
“You can’t throw me out,” said Aidan, far less relaxed now. “You don’t have another keyboard player, remember? What’ll you do without me?”
“We’ll survive,” Donna said coolly.
“You can’t prove I stole anything,” said Aidan, folding his arms across his chest defiantly.
“As a matter of fact, I can,” Donna informed him, holding out Lark’s phone and pressing the Play arrow.
As the first few bars of “Homesick” filled the room, Lark was so wrapped up in the drama of the moment that she forgot to feel anxious about the boys hearing her sing.
After the first verse, Donna paused the video. “Is that not the same song you just played for me, claiming you wrote it yourself?”
Aidan looked away and said nothing. It was as good as a confession.
“That’s low, Aid,” said Ollie with a disgusted shake of his head.
“Oh, and you would know, wouldn’t you,” Aidan snapped. “Hard to get much lower than stealing a mate’s girl.”
“I didn’t steal your girl,” Ollie said, then rolled his eyes and headed for the door. “But it doesn’t matter now, does it? Because you’re history.”
When Ollie was gone, Donna turned a cold look to Aidan. “I’ve booked you on the next flight to London. A car will be here in exactly one hour to take you to LAX. Your parents have been notified.”
“Good,” Aidan said. “Because I bet my father’s already rung his solicitor. I expect he’ll sue you.”
“Actually,” Donna replied calmly, “I’ve already called my lawyer. Your contract with Lotus Records is being dissolved as we speak. And he’s talking to another attorney, one who specializes in intellectual property. The way I see it, Lark can sue you for stealing her creative material and attempting to sell it as your own.”
Aidan swallowed hard but said nothing.
Donna smiled. “That’s what I thought.” She gave a toss of her head in the direction of the door. “Now start packing.”
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Tuesday’s after-school practice session with Teddy went even better than the day before. Lark sang the refrain—intentionally, this time—and their voices melded together like hot corn bread and honey butter, both great individually, and even sweeter when combined.
When rehearsal was over, Lark felt a twinge of panic. She couldn’t avoid walking out with Teddy again, that would be just plain ridiculous. Today she’d have to walk with Teddy across the sprawling school building to get to the late bus. It was a thought she loved and dreaded at the same time. Cursing her shyness, she shouldered her backpack and followed him out of the music room.
“So,” he said as they made their way to end of the music corridor, “I was wondering. What’s it like living with those British dudes?”
“Eventful,” was Lark’s immediate response, and it earned her a chuckle from Teddy. “One day I was an only child living in a house that was way too big, and the next, I suddenly had three big brothers crowding me out of all my favorite spaces.”
“Big brothers?” Teddy repeated. “That’s how it feels?”
“Yep. It feels exactly like having three loud, annoying brothers with giant appetites.”
“Oh. So then you don’t, you know, have a crush on one of them or anything?”
Lark noticed that Teddy looked away when he asked that question.
“Definitely no crushes,” she said.
“Good,” Teddy said, then quickly added, “because that would probably be a little weird.”
“A lot weird,” Lark agreed.
They took the south stairwell to the first floor, then followed the administrative hallway toward the main lobby. At this time of day, the school was mostly empty except for the occasional teacher or custodian passing by. The only other student they saw was Zachary from Lark’s math class, waiting outside Principal Hardy’s office, miserably clutching a detention notice. Lark wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that none of her classmates were there to see her walking side by side with Teddy Reese.
When they reached the main door, he held it open for her. It was an old-fashioned, gentlemanly gesture, which she knew her father would have approved of. Mimi would have rolled her eyes.
“They seem like okay guys, and they have a really distinctive sound,” Teddy observed. “That kid on keyboards, wow. Last night I tried to teach myself to play some of their songs. They were actually pretty complicated, but man, Aidan made it look easy. I think he might be the most talented musician in the band.”
“Funny you should say that,” said Lark wryly. “Because he’s no longer—”
She stopped talking abruptly when she spotted her mother’s SUV at the curb. And leaning beside it was her mom, wearing a long, lightweight trench coat.
And holding Lark’s journal.
Lark slid into the passenger seat and waited for her mother to start the car.
&nb
sp; “So,” Lark said, eyeing the journal, which her mother had laid carefully on top of the dashboard. “You, uh, found it.” Lark looked away, embarrassed of what her mother probably read. But she didn’t want to hide anymore.
“Well, of course I found it,” said Donna, guiding the SUV away from the sidewalk. “You did leave it on my pillow last night.”
Lark laughed. “Not exactly subtle, huh?”
“No,” said Donna, reaching over to pat Lark’s knee. “But I’m glad you did it.” She slid a sideways glance toward the passenger seat. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that the boy I saw you walking with just now is Teddy, the one you’ve immortalized in verse?”
“Yep, that’s him.”
“Well, I can see why he’s inspired so many romantic doodles. He’s adorable.”
Lark’s cheeks burned, but it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation. “You don’t think it’s . . . silly? Or dumb?”
“Not at all. I think it’s, well, I think it’s just as it should be. And a girl needs to be able to confide in her mama about this sort of thing. So thank you for trusting me with your journal. The songs are so moving and powerful! No wonder Aidan tried to steal one.”
“About that,” said Lark. “What are you going to do now? About Abbey Road, I mean.”
Donna sighed, hitting the turn signal and guiding the SUV onto a road Lark had never been on before. “Well, there’s a strong precedent for the success of duo acts in the music business, and financially the boys stand to enjoy larger profit margins if they pursue their career without the addition of a third party.”
“Sorry, Mom, but I’m not fluent in business jargon. Can you say that again, in English this time?”
“I can launch Max and Ollie as a duet,” Donna translated. “But somehow I don’t think they’ll have the same impact.”
Lark agreed. For all his sullenness, Aidan did bring a certain something to the act. She supposed they could always hire a studio musician like her father to fill Aidan’s combat boots in recording sessions, but in concert, having an actual band member playing the keyboards would be important. She tried to imagine Ollie and Max onstage as a duet. But talented as they were, there was no denying that the balance would be off without a third performer in the mix.
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