Katie Cox Goes Viral

by Marianne Levy

  “Okay!”

  Clearly, this was the correct reaction. The normal reaction. The reaction of someone who cared about me.

  We talked for a while after that, about a scorpion Dad had found under his car and the ins and outs of opening a Pilates studio in a neighborhood that already had three Pilates studios.

  And I told him how great our new house was and how much I was enjoying the bus ride to school and how everyone was getting along so well. By the time I put the phone down, I was exhausted with the effort of smiling so hard. Because of recent Wi-Fi restrictions, it was a smile that Dad couldn’t even see.

  “I’m glad you guys are doing so well,” he said. “When I was around, everything seemed so hard. But you’re making it look easy!”

  For a second I faltered. And for some reason, Adrian’s words came back to me: I’m not taking parenting lessons from a man who leaves his kids to go and live on the other side of the world.

  “I wish you could come and see us,” I said. Then, quickly, before I could change my mind, “It’s just, I miss you so much.”

  “You don’t need me,” said Dad. “I’d just get in the way of this new career of yours.”

  “Um, Okay.”

  “Bye, Katie. Talk soon.”

  “Talk soon, Dad.”

  • • •

  There was something wrong with Amanda. I could tell because she wasn’t eating her toast and because she hadn’t bothered to get dressed. Oh, and because she was crying.

  It wasn’t obvious crying, like the sort I usually do, which is supposed to make people come over and ask what’s the matter. For example, after Paige whacked my chest in a particularly vicious game of hockey. I try not to do it too much since I’m not pretty when I cry. My eyes seem to drill themselves back into my head and my nose turns into this giant strawberry. A strawberry that emits snot.

  Amanda’s crying is much prettier, so she could absolutely use it to get as much sympathy as she wanted. Only, being a better and nobler person than I am, her tears are generally reserved for Really Bad Things Happening In The World, like wars and famine and fluffy animals getting eaten in nature programs.

  Now, I want to cry at those things too. Really, I do, because I factually know that a whole city being bombed is worse than a chest whacking, even when the chest whacking was definitely done on purpose.

  Only the message never seems to make it through to my tear ducts.

  Anyway, Amanda was doing some serious breakfast table crying. The sort where tears leaked in little streams down the sides of her nose. What’s the word we used in English the other day? Rivulets. Baby rivers of sad.

  “What?” I said quite quietly. Then, when she didn’t reply, “What?”

  “There’s just no point,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  She looked around. “Just…this. I don’t know.” We both went quiet as Mom bumbled over to the back door, doing something with a load of plant pots. Once she was safely outside, Amanda wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Don’t you ever feel like things are just kind of hopeless?”

  “This isn’t like you,” I said. She shrugged. “Come on, there’s lots to be happy about! The sun’s shining. And we live in a world of opportunity. Anything can happen! Seriously.”

  I was feeling it too. I’d just recorded my first single in an actual studio with an actual record label. Everything was basically awesome and would be from now until the day I died.

  And when I did die, they’d know what to play at my funeral. So even if people weren’t crying because I’d been a good person, there was a fair chance they’d cry at my amazing music.

  Result!

  “Anything can happen?” said Amanda slowly. “Anything?”

  “Miracles are possible. I am literally proof of that. Two weeks ago I was nobody. And now…”

  “You are the exact same person that you were two weeks ago,” said Amanda. “Just more people have seen inside of your bedroom, which, by the way, is a health hazard.”

  Arguing with her was clearly not going to get me anywhere, so instead, I said, “Has something upset you, Mands?”

  “Yes. Yes, actually, it has.”

  I waited, but all I got was more sniffing. “Is it me?” I said, dropping my voice so that there was no way Mom could hear, even though she was safely at the back of the garden. “Because I’m going to tell her. I just want to wait a little longer, just so she can hear how amazing the single is and be proud of me, and then maybe she’ll understand. That's all.”

  It wasn’t helping. Watching Amanda weep and weep made me feel so terrible that I was on the verge of getting up and fetching Mom and telling her everything.

  Only then she said, “It’s the store.”

  “What, Adrian’s Disaster Emporium of Hopelessness?” I laughed with relief. “I mean, seriously, what is with that place? Who even goes into a shop and buys music anymore?! It’s like he’s literally trying to go broke.”

  “Shut up, Katie.”

  That was unexpected.

  All the softness had gone from her expression. In fact, in maybe a millionth of a moment, she’d gone from teary big sister to red-faced, spitty-mouthed monster.

  “The shop is going broke. And Adrian won’t tell Mom because she’s so into the idea that he’s head of this retail empire.”

  “But…can’t you…just…”

  “You think you know everything just because you’ve been going up to London. You know nothing. Nothing. Okay?”

  I just stared. Maybe my mouth flapped open and shut a few times.

  “Because I have tried. That store was my dream, K. You know about dreams, right? I thought, maybe if it was run by someone who was really passionate about music, who could talk to customers about bands, play them stuff they’d love, then maybe it could work. That I’d have unsigned groups do new act nights, and a noticeboard where people could sell secondhand guitars and get new drummers, and we’d have regulars who’d buy up all the rare vinyl, and maybe we’d arrange bus trips to festivals, and do a podcast of things we were enjoying, and yes, Katie, I know no one buys music in a store anymore, but I thought maybe I could change that. And now Adrian’s business is going to go broke and that’s my dream over. Done. Finished.”

  “But you never know,” I said. “Anything is possible.”

  “We had one customer yesterday,” she said. “One.”

  “Which is better than nothing!”

  “She didn’t buy anything,” said Amanda. “She wanted directions to the train station.”

  “But everything you just said, they’re all great ideas. It deserves to work. I mean, you do. It sounds like you’re being brilliant. Incredible. He’s lucky to have you.”

  “Maybe,” she said, and now the tears were back. “But it’s not enough. I’m glad you’re getting to live your dream, Katie. But it doesn’t mean I will.”

  There’s a patch of grass around the back of the school labs that’s supposed to be a wilderness garden.

  I’ve never quite known what a wilderness garden ought to look like, but I’m fairly sure no one meant for it to turn out how it did, which was this dark, damp corner of the school with moss instead of grass and a big row of recycling containers. Once, Lacey swore she saw a bluebell growing there, but it was so obviously wishful thinking on her part that I didn’t even consider believing her.

  Being totally honest, things between me and her were not good. Just how not good, I wasn’t sure, since she wasn’t really talking to me. I don’t think she was actively not talking to me because she answered my questions and replied to my texts. But ever since Aliengate, I had been aware that if someone came and tested our friendship levels, they’d have found we were running pretty low.

  So I’d brought her outside in order to try a little of BFF-style bonding. To really talk about our feelin
gs, get close, and open up to each other in that way only besties can.

  “Um,” I said.

  “Mmm,” said Lacey.

  “Er.”

  “Oh look,” said Lacey. “There’s Savannah. Should we go and sit with her?”

  “But, but…” I began. Then, because Lacey was already parking her behind on the grass, “Okay, then.”

  The Savannah-Paige-Sofie beast had found the one patch of sunshine in the whole area and had stretched out its six very long, very brown legs.

  Come on, Katie. Spread the love.

  “Hey, everyone. Mind if me and the very awesome Lacey Daniels sit with you? She’s so great.”

  Which earned me some very strange looks.

  “We’re party planning,” said Sofie.

  “How much planning can one party take?” I asked.

  “Just because your parties are three people dancing to an ancient NOW album doesn’t mean everyone else’s are,” said Lacey in a way that, frankly, sounded a little critical.

  “Mellow down, girlfriend,” said Savannah. Then, to me, “Have you got my Karamel tickets? How was the recording? And have you got my Karamel tickets?”

  “Sorry, no tickets yet,” I told Savannah. “But the recording was amazing. It was in this little studio in Soho, and I did it in three takes.”

  “I bet you have the most amazing pictures,” said Sofie.

  “It’s annoying, but actually, I don’t. Stupid Neanderthal phone. But it was so interesting down there. They had all these framed platinum albums on the walls and a signed photo of the Rolling Stones. I mean, I’d have paid just to look around, and there I was actually getting to record my own music.” I shook my head. “It blows my mind.”

  “Amaze,” said Savannah, wiggling her perfect little toes. I noticed that each nail had been topped with a sparkly stone. “You know what? Even though you don’t have any Karamel tickets for me, I think we should play your single at my party.”

  “That would be pretty groovy,” I said, which was supposed to sound casual and laid-back and super-chilled but didn’t, due to my using the word groovy. I mean, who says that? Other than me? “I’ll send you the MP3.”

  “Can we hear it now?” said Paige.

  “I haven’t got it yet,” I said. “Sorry.”

  “But I thought it was all recorded?”

  “These things take time,” I told her.

  “So you don’t know when it’s coming out?”

  “Er, no. They didn’t say. Soon though. Because of momentum.”

  “But it’ll be ready for the party?”

  “Definitely.” Then, because we seemed to be straying quite a long way from my original purpose, “I missed you at the studio, Lace. It’s like, where was my entourage?!”

  “Lacey didn’t come to the studio with you?”

  “She had basketball,” I said.

  “Which we won,” said Lacey.

  “Well, that’s good!” I said. “Classic Lacey! You are a total winner! Hey, we should do something to mark the occasion! What are you doing tonight? Let’s celebrate!”

  “Calm down,” said Lacey. “It’s not that big a deal.”

  “It is. You won! You were the winning team!” I shook my invisible pom-poms. “Go Lacey! Go Lacey!”

  “Katie, are you Okay? Is Katie Okay? She looks like she’s having an epileptic fit.”

  I looked down from the top of my imaginary cheerleading pyramid to see—oh no—Mad Jaz, who was suddenly just there. Maybe she’d always been there. Or maybe she’d materialized, like a sort of a demon. She was dressed quite demonically, her school uniform accessorized with an enormous black velvet scarf and ripped lace gloves.

  “I was just cheering for Lacey,” I said. “She’s the best.”

  Jaz’s head swiveled from me to Lacey and back again.

  “The best,” I repeated. “I cannot imagine having a better friend.”

  And maybe it was my imagination or did Jaz look just a little put out? Come to think of it, it was probably my imagination. That plus Jaz’s face permanently looks a little put out.

  “So, back to my party,” Savannah was saying. Only, Jaz wasn’t listening.

  “I just came over to tell you that your video has had one and a half million views.”

  “Honestly,” said Lacey. “Can we please stop talking about that stupid, embarrassing video? It’s old news.”

  “I’ve been thinking again about the lighting,” said Savannah.

  “Not that old,” I said. “One and a half million? That’s amazing! When you think of it in terms of the population of Harltree it’s…loads!”

  “Yup,” said Jaz. “Bet you’re glad you didn’t take it down now.”

  “More like you didn’t take it down,” said Lacey.

  “Only because Katie told me not to,” said Jaz.

  Oh no.

  “And whether I should have different colors for different areas,” said Savannah.

  “Katie asked you to take it down,” said Lacey. “Because of how embarrassing it was for me.”

  “That is the most selfish thing I have ever heard in my life,” said Jaz. “It’s lucky that she changed her mind.”

  “No, she didn’t. She wanted you to take it down, and you said no.”

  “I never said that,” said Jaz, who, to be fair, had never said that. Except in my version of events.

  I was beginning to realize I’d made a fairly serious mistake. Or several very serious mistakes.

  “Er, Jaz, don’t you remember how I said could you take it off the Internet, and you said you wouldn’t?” I gabbled. “Maybe not. Oh well, moving on…”

  “I do remember. You said you wanted it to stay up,” said Jaz.

  “Did I?” I said.

  “Did you?” said Lacey, getting to her feet. “Because that’s not what you told me. That’s not what you told me at all.”

  Even Savannah had stopped talking.

  “You…lied to me,” said Lacey. “I know you’re friends with her now. But I can’t believe you’d actually lie.”

  “I never thought of you as a liar, Katie,” said Savannah, looking very severe but still pretty. “Because if we can’t believe you about this…”

  “I’m not a liar! I mean, technically, in this one particular instance, then yes, I am, but just this one time. I mean, honestly, Lace. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I couldn’t take it down just because you found it very slightly embarrassing. Could I? I mean, really?! Come on.”

  “I just wanted the truth,” said Lacey, teetering on the edge of tears and then going over the edge altogether.

  “I’ll make it up to you, Lace,” I said, as Savannah, Paige, and Sofie went into a whispery cluster. “When I get famous, which will be incredibly soon, I’ll get you concert tickets, and if I get any clothes, they’re all yours—as soon as I’m done with them, obviously. I mean, just because they’ll probably be giving them to me for a photoshoot or a concert, but if that happens I’ll have them dry cleaned. I’ll do…whatever you want, Lacey.”

  Lacey snuffled.

  “Lacey, babes,” said Savannah. “Come sit with me a moment, Okay?” She patted the grass next to her.

  Something about Savannah’s words worked where mine hadn’t. Lacey sat back down again. Now it was the four of them, in the sunshine, and me and Jaz in the shade. It couldn’t have been more symbolic if it tried.

  “Want to know what I’m thinking?” said Savannah.

  Lacey did a little shrug.

  “It’ll cheer you up. Promise.”

  Then Savannah said something into Lacey’s ear, probably about how much of a loser I was or that I was looking especially chubby today or something. Whatever it was, Lacey’s eyes widened.

  “Of course,” she said, and she did look h
appier. Much happier. It was kind of good but also, if I’m being honest, a little disturbing how quickly she’d cheered up. Then, “It’s fine, Katie. And I cannot wait until your single comes out. I really can’t.”

  Paige smirked.

  “What?” I said.

  “Nothing,” said Sofie.

  At that moment, the sun went behind a cloud, the bell rang, and lunchtime was over.

  And on the way back inside, I saw a clump of bluebells.

  Everywhere I went, people were talking about Savannah’s party. Even Mad Jaz wasn’t immune.

  “It’s going to be the worst party anyone has ever had,” she told me as the bus fought through the morning traffic. “There won’t be anything decent to drink, and Fin says that she’s going to have relatives.”

  Jaz managed to make the word “relatives” sound like a stomach flu.

  “So you’re not going to be there tonight?”

  Mad Jaz looked at me as though I was mad. “Of course I’m going.”

  “She invited you?”

  “No.”

  My understanding of the inner workings of Jaz was still at the beginner level.

  “And Nicole’s bringing this home brew she made with a recipe from this iffy Spanish website. It’s got stuff in it that you should in no way ever drink.”

  “Er, great.” The bus went around the corner by the garden center and did this sort of lurchy, belchy thing that sent a backdraft of fumes up and into my lungs. I tried not to breathe and failed and felt a little sick.

  “It will be.” Jaz looked pleased. “If anyone can create something insane, it’s Nicole.” She scrolled down on her phone. “Hey, so apparently she tried to give herself a hickey last night. She’d read you get a good one if you suck really hard, so she used the end of a vacuum cleaner.”

  “I might not have any of Nicole’s home brew,” I said. “I probably need to protect my voice, what with my single coming out soon. They’ll be needing me to do some live gigs.”

  “Oh, right,” said Jaz, peering at her screen.

  “I know, isn’t it incredible that I have a single coming out?” I said. Then, because the sixth-graders were shouting about something and Jaz didn’t seemed to have heard, I said it again. “A single coming out.”