Katie Cox Goes Viral

by Marianne Levy

  Which should have been a happy thought. So I don’t know why I shivered.

  Actually, yes, I do. It’s because I was afraid. Afraid that this wasn’t really me. The me that Savannah had sneered at, the me that got told off by McAllister, who missed her dad and was losing her best friend…the true me—she’d vanish. The me who wrote silly songs about the way she was actually feeling—she was going to disappear. And yes, she wasn’t that cool or exciting, but she was real.

  And I didn’t know if I was ready to leave her behind.

  Then I thought, Don’t be so stupid. They’re going to make you a star. This is your dream. It’s everybody’s dream.

  Who even was the real Katie anyway? Just some girl with chipped nail polish and a songbook full of scribbles.

  And so I shook his hand and said, “Yes.”

  And then Adrian and I were back out in the street, both of us with hot, red cheeks, panting like we’d run a race.

  “Is this really happening?” I said. “I’m recording a single next weekend. In a studio. A real recording studio. I cannot believe this is happening to me!”

  Adrian smiled and shook his head.

  I couldn’t seem to stop talking. “I can’t believe… We were just playing in my bedroom…goofing around…and now…”

  “I know!”

  I was spinning, whirling about, bouncing off the cobblestones like my feet were springs.

  The sun’s rays had gone golden and slanty, and Covent Garden was full of amazing-looking people jamming the sidewalks outside every pub or hurtling toward the subway, and some guy with dreads was playing the saxophone, and I just didn’t want to go home. Not yet.

  “I was thinking we could go walk for a while?” I said. “Since we’re here.”

  “Fair enough,” said Adrian.

  Maybe he had a little of that sunshine inside of him too.

  It would explain why he let me go into H&M, which had way better stuff than the one in Harltree. I had real trouble deciding between a turquoise belt and a bracelet, and when I eventually came back from the register with the bracelet—which was the wrong decision and something I still regret—I found him all worked up.

  “There’s a place just round the corner that sells Fenders. Have we got time?”

  Then we were in this guitar shop, and when he heard my news, the guy behind the counter didn’t mind that we clearly weren’t going to buy anything and let me play “Just Me” on this Ovation in the most gorgeous deep orangey red.

  It somehow sounded orangey red too, or maybe that was just the feeling I had inside of me already, leaking out through my fingertips into the strings.

  After that, Adrian played a vintage Schecter and then a Coronado semi-hollow. And then my stomach rumbled so loudly you could hear it even over the 1965 Gibson acoustic.

  “Do you want to get a sandwich?” he said. “Or a pizza? Let’s get a pizza!” He checked his wallet. “Or maybe a sandwich.”

  There was a Pret a Manger in Covent Garden, and we sat up on those high silver stools while the world flowed around us. I was like an island, surrounded by a churning sea of people. An island eating a falafel wrap followed by a chocolate brownie. Followed by another chocolate brownie, because we were celebrating after all.

  “You want this?” said Adrian, seeing me eyeing his muffin.

  “Are you offering?”

  “No! But go on.”

  We munched away in this happy silence for a while as the couple next to us had a humungous fight in what I think was Japanese.

  “Maybe I’ll go to Japan,” I said. “Can you get wraps there?”

  The man next to us stopped arguing and turned and looked at me. “Of course we have wraps in Japan,” he said. “Aren’t you that girl from video? ‘Just Me’?”

  “Yes!” I said. “I am!”

  “I love that,” he said. “It stay in my head. I got mad beats!”

  “‘Just Me’!” said his girlfriend, who had green-striped hair and was, for some reason, dressed as an old-fashioned maid with a hat and frilly apron. In Harltree, she’d have probably been beaten up, but here no one seemed to even notice. “We do selfie?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Of course!”

  They each did peace signs while I plastered on a huge smile. It was only afterward that I realized my teeth must have been full of chocolate brownie.

  Adrian was checking his watch. “Katie…”

  “Ten more minutes,” I pleaded.

  “We have to go home,” he said.

  He didn’t sound quite like he meant it.

  “When you were in your band,” I said, “what was it like?”

  He chewed a chip, thinking, “A pain in the butt, mostly. We argued over everything. And the way it ended—I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But…I’ve never been closer to anyone than I was with Tony. I still miss that.”

  “Not even with Mom?” I said.

  There was a moment when he was clearly deciding whether or not to be honest. Then he took another chip. “When I was in that band, it was us against the world. With Zoe, however close we get, you and your sister will always come first.”

  • • •

  He dropped me at the end of the road, then went off to the fish and chips shop, leaving me to bounce up the lane on my own. It was the last part of the day, the blue of the sky fading into a faint, purple blush. I used to have some eye shadow that exact shade. The one time I wore it, Lacey asked me if I’d been punched.

  The memory of it made me laugh, and then I was running, skip-hop-jumping, getting little pieces of dirt in my shoes, and sending a fat bird squawking up out of a bush and twirling into the trees as though someone had gotten halfway through blowing up a balloon then let it go, only with feathers and a beak.

  Everything was so sharp and clear and still. There was no breeze, and the yellow field seemed to be on pause, more like a painting than a place. I could hear every crunch of my shoes on the lane, the muffled drone of traffic from the highway, and my own fluttering breath, in and out, in and out.

  It’s a secret, I said to myself. No one can know. Not yet. You’ve just been in town with Lacey. So calm down. Look normal. Be normal.

  In fact, I remembered Mom was working a long shift that day, so there wasn’t any need to sneak around. It was only Amanda at home, and Amanda never noticed anything.

  “Hey, Katie.” She was curled up on the sofa, watching TV.

  “Hey, Mands. How was the store?”

  “All right.”

  “Busy?”

  “Not especially.”

  I hung around in the doorway, thinking I should go upstairs.

  Amanda hunkered down as though she was trying to disappear down between the cushions. Which was not a good idea. I’d seen what was in there when I’d helped carry it in for the move. Let’s just say I put those cushions back in place and resolved never to pick them up again.

  “So has anyone else said anything about the video?”

  She didn’t even look away from the TV screen. “Who?”

  “I don’t know. A customer?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  A very annoying woman with too many teeth pranced around on the screen trying to sell us some laundry detergent. Amanda even seemed to be listening. Take it from me, it’s a sad day when color-safe bleach is more interesting than your own sister.

  “Wanna come upstairs, play some bass?”

  “Maybe later.”

  I should have left it at that. Why didn’t I leave her there? Instead I said, “So, Adrian took me to meet a record label today.”

  “What?”

  At least now she was looking at me.

  “And it was brilliant, Mands. It was this huge building in actual Covent Garden, and they had pictures of all their acts up, even yuck
y Karamel and the guy, Tony, he was so nice, and basically, he offered me a record deal there on the spot, and I said yes! And I’m going to record the single next weekend! How cool is that?”

  “No way! That is amazing!” she said, and now she wasn’t curled up anymore. She was on her knees on top of the cushions, then tumbling onto the floor, then up on her feet. “Amazing amazing AMAZING!”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “So Mom changed her mind? Katie, we’ve got to get you into the store for a gig. You could sign stuff—”

  “Mom didn’t change her mind. Mom doesn’t know.”

  Well, that threw a damper on things, I can tell you.

  “Then why are you telling me this?”

  “Because it’s exciting.” Because you are my sister.

  “You know what Mom said. We both heard her.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “So why were you and Adrian sneaking off into London anyway? Wait”—she held up her hands—“don’t tell me. I don’t want to know anymore. I don’t want to be a part of your…thing.”

  Then, I got it. “Oh. You’re jealous.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You are,” I said. “You’re jealous because it’s my song and I’m going to be a real musician.”

  “I couldn’t care less.”

  “And because I spent the day with Adrian, not you.”

  “You have no idea, do you?”

  “Well, I’m sorry to have intruded on your love-in, but don’t worry. You can have him back once the single’s finished.”

  The light seemed to dim, or maybe it was just because the commercial was over. “You know they don’t agree about that. And you made him take your side, and now what’s going to happen? We have a home now.”

  “A ridiculous home.”

  “A permanent home,” said Amanda. “I thought you wanted that? And you’re putting it on the line…for what?”

  “I’m not putting anything on the line. Stop being so melodramatic.”

  “But if Mom finds out—”

  A thought gripped my neck with icy claws. “You…you won’t tell her, will you? If you tell her now, it’ll all be over before it’s even started. You only get one chance, Mands. That’s what I’ve realized, and if I don’t take it—”

  “This is a bad idea,” said Amanda.

  I waited. And waited.

  “Fine. You win. I won’t tell her, all right? But when this comes out—and it will—I am not getting involved.”

  “Fine. I didn’t need to tell you. I just thought you might be pleased.”

  Her eyes were back on the television. And then I thought of the other thing I’d come in to say. And that I probably should have mentioned first.

  “Um, Mands. Can I borrow your phone? Sorry, I know it’s not… Only I haven’t checked my views on ‘Just Me’ since yesterday, and since my new phone isn’t—”

  “Get lost.”

  “Okay!”

  So I went upstairs and brushed my teeth, which felt kind of pointless so late in the day, but they were feeling pretty gross. Then I lay down across my bed to try to get my mind around everything.

  I had a record deal.

  I was going to record a single.

  And Mom was going to be fine with it.

  The very second I got around to telling her.

  That Belt

  That belt

  That belt

  That turquoise belt

  Six ninety-nine

  And it could have been mine

  With sparkly stones and pieces of felt

  Would’ve matched my leotard

  Popped against my hot-pink sweater

  Here’s the thing, that belt rocked hard

  It would’ve made my whole life better

  That belt

  That belt

  That turquoise belt

  Six ninety-nine

  And it could have been mine

  With sparkly stones and pieces of felt

  Can only blame myself, it’s fine

  ’Cuz when I went to pay for it

  I had to stand in a great, long line

  Got distracted, bought a bracelet

  That belt

  That belt

  That turquoise belt

  Six ninety-nine

  And it could have been mine

  With sparkly stones and pieces of felt

  Would’ve made a whole new me

  Could’ve been a fashion riot

  But sadly it will never be

  Because I simply didn’t buy it

  I love Lacey’s house. I really do, though I have to say that I find being there a little tense. Everything’s so clean and nice and not broken. She’s got a tank in her kitchen with all these tropical fish swimming around in it, like jewelry with fins, and fluffy carpets and a kitchen with drawers that close themselves. And a special faucet that has boiling water come out of it and another one that makes ice cubes. And an ice cream maker and a white sofa without any stains on it whatsoever. Which I find really stressful to sit on, but Lacey doesn’t.

  I want to be the kind of person who can drink Coke on a white sofa without having a mental breakdown.

  And that gave me the upsetting thought that even though I hated my stupid, new, falling-apart house, maybe it and me were meant for each other.

  “Just relax,” said Lacey, who is completely aware of my sofa issues, even if she doesn’t support them.

  I gripped my Coke can.

  “It’s really not going anywhere,” said Lacey, seeing the metal start to sink between my fingers.

  “But suppose I throw it in the air?” I whispered. “Suppose I just toss it everywhere?”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t know!”

  Then Lacey’s mom came in with—oh man—two bowls of spaghetti bolognese.

  “Er, would you mind if I ate it at the table?” I said.

  I know Lacey’s mom isn’t sure about me at all, but this seemed to make her happy. Very happy. “Maybe you do have some manners after all! We’re watching Alien later if you girls would like to join us?”

  “Katie can’t watch Alien,” said Lacey. “It freaks her out. She’ll cry and spill popcorn everywhere.”

  “We can’t have that, can we?” said Lacey’s mom, glancing down at my bolognese bowl.

  Then she guided me over to a table with a perfect white tablecloth and white cotton–covered chairs.

  “And I’ve got you chocolate ice cream with chocolate sauce for dessert.”

  I wondered if it would be weird to ask her to put some newspaper down. Or if I could have mine in the garden.

  Lacey put me out of my misery. “Can we eat upstairs?”

  We took our bowls up to Lacey’s bedroom, me sitting at her desk with my jacket spread out underneath, just in case.

  Lacey ate sitting cross-legged on her white duvet cover, and she didn’t spill even a dot of sauce. I know this because she went off to the bathroom and I checked.

  “Okay, how weird was shopping with Savannah?” said Lacey. “What is this world that she lives in?”

  “She needs to come with us to a secondhand store.”

  Lacey sat up, and if she’d been me, she’d have spilled her dinner. “You haven’t invited her, have you?”

  “No! Of course I haven’t! Can you imagine?”

  We imagined and laughed.

  “So here’s what I don’t get,” I said. “How does a person be Savannah? Because I got a close-up look at her in the locker room, and she is flawless.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s just perfect. All of her. I thought she’d have some monster birthmark or pimples in her armpits or something, but she doesn’t.”
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br />   “Pimply armpits?”

  “Yeah. From shaving them. Maybe I’m not doing it right.” I showed Lacey my armpits. “See?”

  “Yuck!”

  “That is not how they look in magazines. Can I look at yours?”

  “No.”

  “Please?”

  “No!”

  “I’ve shown you mine!”

  “Did I ask to see your armpits?” said Lacey, who, to be fair, had not asked to see my armpits.

  I sighed. “Just think if Savannah had done the video. She’d probably have had three times as many hits as me.”

  “From perverts,” said Lacey. “How is that thing even still up?”

  “Erm.” I’d been thinking that I’d really quite like to watch it again on her computer and see how the hits were doing, but maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Maybe I should be talking to Jaz,” said Lacey. “Perhaps I should offer her money or something.”

  “Or you could just support it,” I said.

  “Huh?” She nearly dropped her fork. Nearly, but not quite.

  “Look,” I said. “Jaz isn’t going to take it down. We know that. And a lot of people are watching it, and they seem to like it, and I know it’s embarrassing for you, but for me…it’s kind of incredible. Like, the best thing that has ever happened to me. And you’re the best friend who has ever happened to me, and I’d just really like it if you could be…Okay.”

  Lacey started to speak and then stopped.

  “And yesterday,” I went on, thinking it was now or never, or anyway, now or very, very soon and so it probably had to be now, “I did something incredible. Me and Adrian, we went to see a record label.”

  “What?”

  “It’s called Top Music. They do Karamel and Crystal Skye.”

  “You hate Karamel. You say they are overproduced and have stupid hair.”

  “Yes, but that’s not the point.”

  “That’s not you, Katie. You’re, like, all individual and bad makeup and split ends-y.”