Awkward

by Marni Bates

  I couldn’t believe it. Timothy Goff had introduced himself to us as Tim. As if we could just say, “Hi, Tim!” or “How’s it going, Tim?” Timothy Goff was casually inviting us to play Wii. TIMOTHY GOFF!

  I completely blanked. Words failed me. I just stood there gaping while “Tim” acted like it was perfectly normal for people to become speechless in his presence. It probably was too.

  “I’m in.”

  Much to everyone’s surprise, Jane moved to the couch, picked up a controller, and began to battle Dominic. Corey and I traded one startled look before we scooted over to watch the competition.

  I’m not sure exactly how the tension vanished from the room, but one moment I was standing awkwardly by the couch and the next everyone was yelling, cheering, or swearing while Jane showed off her impressive backhand. And while, yes, Tim was the first real celebrity I’d ever met, he was so laid-back it felt almost ... comfortable. Well, after the initial shock.

  “I meant to ask,” he said as Chris challenged Jane to a game, “what you thought of the music video.”

  Jane’s forehand smash distracted me into a normal response. “It’s great: artsy but not pretentious. I’d love it if it didn’t include me.”

  He grinned, and suddenly I was worried that my legs wouldn’t support me—that I’d be one of his swooning female fans. “I know the press can be a bit much ... but when I saw the video, I just couldn’t resist.”

  In that moment he could’ve filmed me doing anything and I would’ve forgiven him. I was that pathetically starstruck.

  “Well.” I tried to pull myself together. “It’s one of your best songs. Deep down I might even be flattered.” I paused to consider. “Eventually.”

  “She listened to Dialects of the Unemployed about a million times when the CD came out,” Corey informed Tim. “And she created Rollerblade routines for each track. Trust me, she’s flattered.”

  I elbowed Corey in the stomach. “I was trying to play it cool!”

  “You Rollerblade?”

  “Yeah,” I said, wishing I could say something cooler, like I was a skilled ukulele player ... anything else. “I know it hasn’t been cool since the eighties. And let’s be honest: the eighties isn’t a good decade for inspiration.”

  “I don’t know ... my skintight leather pants are in.”

  There was a painful moment when Corey and I just stared at him in horror before Tim burst out laughing. “I’m joking.”

  “Oh, thank God, I doubt even you could pull that off,” Corey said as he surveyed Tim’s physique. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I sensed tension that had nothing to do with awkwardness. Corey quickly shook himself out of whatever he’d just been thinking and smiled. “Plus someone might throw red paint at you for wearing leather.”

  “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve had thrown at me,” Tim admitted. “Usually it’s bras from my, uh, overly devoted female fans. Still, once I was in the middle of ‘Better Off Broken’ when someone chucked a cucumber at me. It missed, but not by much.”

  “Then there was the ‘Marry Me, Timothy’ sign that knocked over the microphone stand,” Dominic added. “That was memorable.”

  “And remember when the watermelon exploded? Mainly it’s just water bottles and underwear though,” Chris commented, although most of his attention was devoted to the Wii. Jane scored another point. “Damn. You’re really good at this.”

  Jane smiled with satisfaction as if she were complimented every day by a drummer in a rock band. “Thanks. You should see me play Robot Unicorn Attack.”

  Jane proudly references her ability to play random computer games. Most people find it geeky. I find it endearing.

  It shouldn’t have worked: three boring high school students (and my brush with fame aside, I was still plenty boring) should not have meshed so well with a trio of rock stars even if we were all pretty close in age. I’d initially expected a quick meeting before we were kicked out of the room. Instead, Dominic was telling Jane that he’d kick her butt at Wii bowling later, as if it were obvious we’d all hang out after the show. Tim even programmed our numbers into his cell phone in case we weren’t able to find them in the postconcert insanity. That’s right: one of my favorite rock bands had my cell phone number.

  And the real show hadn’t even begun.

  Chapter 20

  ReadySet knows how to put on a seriously great concert. Corey, Jane, and I were rocking out in the wings to a beat that was pumping fast and hot. Even the air felt like it sizzled, and we weren’t among the throngs. No shoving crowds, no elbows thrust into stomachs, or claustrophobia for us. Just me, my two best friends, and a freaking awesome band who grinned at us between songs ... although maybe they were just laughing at our stupid dance moves. Either way, I loved it all.

  I’d just taken a sip of water when Tim started talking into the mic.

  “Hey, Portland, how’s it going?”

  The cheers that erupted made it clear everyone was having a great time.

  Tim was sweaty from all the singing and the oppressive heat from the stage lights, but he still looked like a Greek god—if they wore jeans and plaid shirts and played guitars.

  “So we just released our CD Good to Go last month.”

  He had to pause for all the hollering to die down.

  “Thanks. And we just made a music video for ‘Going Down’ that um, features Mackenzie Wellesley. You’ve all seen it, right?”

  The answering set of cheers and hooting had my every muscle tightening. I was dreaming. Tim couldn’t be about to make fun of me onstage. He had seemed so nice just a few minutes ago!

  “Yeah, it’s a funny video. But I was just hanging out with her backstage, and I have to say, I don’t think the press has done her justice.”

  I closed my eyes. Oh, god, he was going to say, “She’s even more socially awkward than YouTube let on. This girl is a total freak!” And then I’d have to curl up in a little ball and die. Maybe I’d get lucky and a stage light would fall on my head.

  “She’s not awkward at all, actually. She’s awesome.”

  My head snapped up at that. “What?” I said to an equally stunned Jane and Corey. “Did he just say that I’m awesome?”

  I jumped at the quick bite of pain in my arm. “Ouch!” I glared at Corey, who’d pinched me. Hard.

  “Definitely not dreaming.”

  “So we’d like Mackenzie to come out onstage and join us for her song.” He smiled and somehow looked even more like Apollo.

  “Oh no! No. No,” I muttered frantically. “This isn’t happening.”

  I looked past him at the sea of faces ... and panicked. I couldn’t stroll out onstage in front of everyone! Not with all those people sizing me up and just staring. The applause grew steadily from the audience—and I was screwed.

  I wasn’t given a choice. Corey grabbed my arm while I stood rooted to the spot mouthing, “What? No! Wait, WHAT?” and he shoved me past the curtains.

  The audience laughed as I wobbled the first few steps in the heels that had officially begun to pinch and hurt. I really wished that my friends were more supportively silent and less throw-her-to-the-lions. My whole body was trembling, and I could feel my legs quiver like an airplane in serious turbulence. I did my best to focus just on Tim’s face, the glinting clear blue eyes, and not all the people behind him.

  Dominic pounded out a rhythm as I walked over, something slow and just a little bit sexy. It distracted me enough to look over and catch an amused, cocky smile that did nothing to slow my pulse. He made me smile when he winked reassuringly.

  “One, two, three,” Tim counted out, and the band burst into life.

  I had absolutely no idea what I should do.

  Right next to me, Tim was singing, “You fell like a girl in a looking glass,” and I realized that I did feel like Alice in Wonderland. I was in this whole new world, and I kept shifting from geeky to famous then back to loser status before shooting up once more to popularity. And the p
eople in my life? Yeah, I had plenty of White Rabbits like my brother running around. Only instead of screeching, “I’m late! I’m late!” he said stuff like, “It’s on YouTube! It’s on YouTube!” And just when I started to think: hmm, maybe I’m getting a handle on this situation, I’d get quite literally thrust into the spotlight once more.

  I stood there. Onstage. Motionless. In the back of my head I was screaming, Dance, Mackenzie! Sway. Do something! But I couldn’t even manage the simplest of movements. Seriously. Tim was crooning to me, the audience was shouting out encouragement, and all the attention made me blush. I was still standing there like an idiot when Corey rescued me—which was only fair, since it was his fault in the first place. He ran out and swirled me into his arms. I’ve never been more grateful to see a familiar face.

  Corey and I had taken a free Argentine tango class with Jane and had quit two months later because the instructor was a creeper who joked about dating teenage girls. I never thought the lessons would actually come in handy. Corey had only convinced me to go by promising it’d be a good extracurricular to add to my college applications.

  I never thought I’d tango at a concert. Corey led me into a series of slick dance moves as the song played behind us. My body automatically responded to his movements, and I could hear cheering as the audience ate it up. Corey’s heartbeat was erratic, but instead of panicking, he led me into a smooth dip. I was staring into Corey’s eyes and sharing his infectious smile while several thousands of people watched on. Then suddenly the world straightened and I was spun out of his arms and into Tim’s hold.

  There I was, plastered against a certified rock star while he sang my song, as if there were only the two of us in the world. And when he tilted the microphone toward me, I joined right in. Okay, I’m never going to be on American Idol, but I don’t have a bad singing voice. Jane once said it was too sultry, but that was years ago and I think she was jealous because she could never hit a note to save her life.

  I saw Tim’s eyes widen in surprise, then focus more intensely while he tightened his hold on me. My surroundings seemed indistinct and blurry around the edges. Those stage lights are no joke. I was practically blinded and could feel the sweat dripping down my back in a not-so-pleasant way. I was actually glad Corey had prodded me into wearing a top that showed more skin, since I was already so boiling hot I expected steam to roll off me in waves.

  Still I focused on the song, giving it everything I had, when we reached the lines:

  You said, there was no harm in wondering.

  You said, it’d just be a peek,

  And you said, don’t be a mother hen.

  You said, you could land on your feet.

  But we both know now,

  You had to learn somehow.

  Alice, dear, things in mirrors are not as they seem.

  Stop risking it all on one of your lunatic schemes.

  It sounded good. Damn good. I don’t have any idea how he does it, but Tim makes even fairy-tale allusions edgy and vaguely dark. The line about risking it all on lunatic schemes? Yeah, it made me hesitate, because the song was mine in more ways than one. I was risking my life. My perfectly ordered, ruthlessly organized life was at stake. And for reasons I couldn’t explain, I kept endangering it. I had showed up to school in designer jeans, I had gone backstage at a ReadySet concert, and I started to sing onstage. Sure, I’d been pushed, prodded, and poked along the way: but I had done it all myself.

  I probably deserved another one of Jane’s “Oh, Kenzie”s, too.

  For a moment, I couldn’t decide what was scarier: that I was—once again—putting myself in the line of media attention or that I didn’t seem to care.

  Either way, I’d definitely fallen down the rabbit hole.

  Chapter 21

  If you’re hoping for ReadySet gossip, you’re going to be disappointed. After having my privacy violated, I can see why celebrities hate the paparazzi. Famous people might understand it’s a by-product of their occupations, but that doesn’t make it any less intrusive or annoying.

  So while Tim, Dominic, and Chris didn’t sit around twirling their purity rings after the concert, the media made them out to be far more intense. They seemed content to kick back with Corey, Jane, and me after they’d showered and pulled on clean clothes from their trailer. The three of us didn’t drink. Corey couldn’t as our designated driver, and Jane and I were perfectly content to sip our Cokes. It was no big deal when we declined some offered beer. It did, however, bring up the subject of ages.

  “Just how old are you guys?” Tim asked speculatively.

  “Corey’s eighteen, I’m seventeen, and Jane’s sixteen—but we’re all high school juniors.”

  “That’s quite a spread to be in the same grade,” Dominic commented.

  “I was held back a year.” Corey said it casually, as if it weren’t a continual source of annoyance for him. “My parents read a study about boys doing better academically if they’re held back in kindergarten.” He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Of course, I’m stuck with these two.” He gestured at Jane and me. “But it could be worse.”

  “What about you?” Chris asked Jane, and I could tell she was flattered that he’d taken the time to ask her a follow-up question. Of course, Jane is flattered if you so much as say you were impressed by her Wii skills. She’s a light touch.

  “I’m just a little young for a junior. But no one remembers that at school, since Kenzie and I have been in the same classes together since, what, second grade?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, ever since Smith Elementary School.”

  She groaned, and I couldn’t help grinning. Jane’s experiences in elementary school had been no better than mine. Neither of us waxed nostalgic about the “simpler times.”

  “Don’t remind me!”

  That instantly caught everyone’s attention.

  “What happened?” Chris wanted to know.

  Jane didn’t look like she knew how to answer, so I cut in to help her out. “Jane’s last name is Smith—as in Jane Smith. And since our town is obsessed with naming things after this other Smith family, she got a lot of dumb jokes over it. Kids teased her about every part of her name. That’s how we became friends, actually.”

  “I was about to cry,” Jane interjected. Now that I had broken the awkwardness she was fine with steering the story. “Some boys were bugging me at recess. They kept saying, ‘You, Jane. Me, Tarzan.’ ” She grinned. “It really bothered me as a kid. Anyway, Kenzie whirled on them with this death ray glare and snapped, ‘She’s Jane, you’re stupid.’ ”

  Tim sent me one of his grins that ought to come with a warning sign: May Cause Heart Failure in Ordinary Girls.

  “That was brave of you.”

  “Yeah, w-well,” I stuttered, “I’ve been a wimp ever since.”

  Corey snorted. “Right. That’s why you stared down Alex Thompson when he shoved you in the cafeteria: to prove you are spineless.” The sarcasm dripped off his tongue. “Here I thought you were standing up for yourself.”

  He had me there—and that fact felt oddly good. I had been sticking up for myself in the cafeteria and against a jerk who easily had a good eighty pounds of muscle on me.

  But I didn’t want it mentioned in front of ReadySet.

  “Someone giving you guys trouble?” Tim’s voice was casual, but his eyes never left Corey’s.

  “Just a little dweeb hazing,” I said quickly. “Nothing too serious. Thanks, by the way, for what you said tonight. You know, about me being ... erm, awesome.”

  Dominic gave me an appreciative once-over. “You sounded pretty good up there.”

  Chris nodded. “Any interest in performing?”

  I nearly choked on my Coke. “Me? No. Oh, no. I’m more backstage than center stage.”

  “What about you?” Tim asked Jane.

  “I sing,” she replied easily with a grin sneaking up her face. “Until people start threatening to shove a gag down my throat.”

  “You can
sing really loudly,” Corey said, nudging her companionably with his foot. “Just not on key. You’re still the champion of Wii Bowling though.”

  We didn’t leave until after 1:30 a.m. when all the boys (Dominic grudgingly) agreed Jane was the Queen of the Wii. If it hadn’t been a school night we would have hung out longer. I tried to remember the last time I’d had that much fun with anyone besides Jane and Corey. Running from the paparazzi, hiding in Victoria’s Secret, and ice skating with Logan came to mind—but that was just because I was so exhausted from the concert. I nearly fell asleep in Corey’s car, and I could tell by the lazy way Jane flipped through one of her ever-present textbooks that she was also ready to collapse.

  So I didn’t get the chance to dwell on my moment in the spotlight or to wonder what school would be like the next day. I just went into my room, slid into bed, and slept like the dead.

  I woke up late. Really late. I thought groggily that I must have slept through my alarm clock as I raced around my room collecting textbooks, scattered papers, and homework while I pulled on my jeans.

  I barged into the kitchen looking, to be honest, like hell. I’d forgotten to take off my makeup from the night before and now resembled a ghoul. My panicked frenzy had added a thin film of sweat to my pale face and tired, black-lined eyes. My mom didn’t comment on it though. She just sat at the breakfast table while I tried to grab a few raspberry Pop-Tarts to eat on the run.

  “Oh, good,” she said calmly. “You’re up. Now, sit down and I’ll make you a real breakfast. We need to talk.”

  “I can’t, Mom!” I said, feeling less like Alice in Wonderland and more like the White Rabbit. “I’m late!”

  “I know that, sweetie. You’re going to be a little later. Now, sit.”

  There’s no arguing with my mom when she knows what she wants. I sat.

  “So how was the concert?” she asked as she pulled out eggs from the refrigerator.

  I rubbed my eyes, smearing around more of the leftover mascara. “It was great, Mom.” And then because she was making real food for me, I elaborated. “We got to meet the band, and then Jane beat everyone on the Wii. I had a lot of fun.” Which was weird since celebrities are supposed to be like Notables on crack, not like ... well, regular people.