Cat Bennet, Queen of Nothing

by Mary Strand

  “Thanks for letting me join you guys.” Not. “But I really have to go.”

  Megan’s face looked as pinched as when Bethany popped her trial balloon. “Where? The media center?”

  No idea. I just had to get out of here. “Yeah.”

  Megan grabbed her own tray, with her salad barely touched, and stood up. “I’ll go with you.”

  Bethany’s eyes popped. “Megan?”

  Megan glanced from Bethany to me, then across the room in the direction of my old table. She smiled at Bethany as she started walking. “You can join us if you want.”

  Chocolate milk snorted out Bethany’s nose.

  “Bethany doesn’t hate you.”

  I blinked as I leaned against the door to Megan’s pint-sized media center hideout, watching her nibble on a Hershey bar.

  “Honest, she doesn’t. Bethany just has issues with—” She broke off to take another nibble. At this rate, she wouldn’t finish the stupid candy bar by Friday, let alone in the fifteen minutes we had left before fourth period.

  I held up a hand. “It doesn’t take an artist to notice the disgust on her face every time she sees me, but no problem. I don’t need Bethany to like me.”

  “What do you need?”

  Megan’s question startled me so much, my elbow accidentally thumped hard against the door. Great. I could count down the seconds until Ms. Kieran kicked me out of here. Starting at three. “I don’t need anything.”

  Megan fiddled with the rim of her glasses. When she spoke, it came out in a squeak. “I don’t think that’s true.”

  I glanced at the doorknob. Even if Ms. Kieran didn’t show up, I had better things to do. Somewhere.

  “You always do that. If anyone says anything that makes you think, you leave.”

  “Yeah?” My gaze left the doorknob and found Megan. “What makes you such an authority on me? We sit next to each other in Drawing class. Period.”

  “That’s not true.” She trembled, and it was like kicking a puppy. Amber might kick a puppy, or even bite one, but I felt like a jerk when Megan’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I notice things, Cat, and so do you—at least, when you’re looking. Those friends of yours are—”

  She broke off, her nose wrinkling.

  I had plenty of my own doubts about my so-called friends, thank you very much. “You don’t know them. Like Tess. She didn’t go to the dance.”

  Megan’s jaw dropped. “She—”

  I gripped the doorknob and twisted it. “And here’s a tip: Bethany hates my guts. So don’t start in on my friends.”

  “Cat, I’m just trying to—”

  I whipped the door open and sailed out just as Ms. Kieran came around the corner, her jeweled fuchsia cat-eye reading glasses bouncing on a chain around her neck. I didn’t wait for her to drill me a lecture or send me to Mr. Paymar’s office, let alone skewer me.

  I just ran.

  A couple of feet separated Megan’s table from mine in Drawing class, but it might as well have been a mile. We didn’t speak, and I even won an awkward pat on the shoulder from Mr. Reiman for being so focused on my drawing.

  Too bad I didn’t have a single thing worth drawing. Today? A slew of rusty, dirt-encrusted gardening tools that reeked even from where I sat. I also didn’t feel like sketching the scowl I knew must be on Megan’s face, not to mention Bethany’s. I’d spent enough of my life drawing scowls.

  After school, Mary wasn’t waiting for me in the locker room, thanks to the temporary truce with Dad, but I hustled out the door to grab a ride home in the Jeep. Panting, I caught up with her in the parking lot. “Are you heading home?”

  She turned slowly, looking puzzled. “Cat?”

  The temps had climbed in the last few days, but I didn’t feel like walking. Twenty degrees wasn’t exactly a heat wave. “What’s the problem? Are you riding with Josh?”

  She looked like she was trying to figure out my angle, and it wasn’t computing. “I would’ve told you if I was riding with Josh, so you could take the Jeep.”

  In a perfect world, sure. But Mary and I didn’t live in a perfect world, at least not with each other. “So you’re going home.”

  “No. I’m going to Michael’s house. We’re jamming.”

  “The whole band?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes. I don’t think any of your— I mean, I don’t think Kirk invited any of his friends today, but I know you’re not really into our music anyway, so I wasn’t going to ask if you wanted to come along.”

  Why would I even consider going? The band was actually okay, but it came with too many complications. Even if Drew or Tess or Amber didn’t show up, Jeremy would be there, acting as if I was his girlfriend. Or not. He kept giving me mixed signals in English class.

  “You don’t want to come, do you?” Mary waved her keys in my face, making me jump.

  I took the last few steps to the Jeep and climbed in. I had to fix my life, didn’t I? I could handle Jeremy. And, if I had to, Tess and Amber and Drew. Right?

  “Sure. What the heck.”

  I followed Mary downstairs to Michael’s basement, my backpack slung over my shoulder. Michael and Jeremy were the only ones there when we arrived, and Jeremy barely said hi as he concentrated on setting up his drums. I brushed off a stab of annoyance and reminded myself I hated it when Jeremy did pay attention to me. Talk about embarrassing.

  I grabbed the couch, then opened my backpack and pulled out The Book. Ms. Mickel had dropped hints about giving a quiz on Friday. Since I had to work tomorrow, I should finish reading it tonight. Or maybe even right now.

  Footsteps on the stairs made me nervous, but I relaxed when Zach and Kirk appeared. No entourage. Whew.

  I half-listened, half-read The Book as the band tuned up, realizing how moronic I’d been that first time to think they’d actually been playing a song. They played stuff like Coldplay and Maroon 5 and classic older rock—songs Liz liked—and they were totally recognizable.

  Except for the fact that no one sang.

  Michael sang one song, but he couldn’t seem to handle singing and playing keyboard at the same time. Jeremy’s mouth twisted when Michael hit a couple of bad notes and blanked on half the lyrics. From the sound of it, Zach turned up the amp on his bass guitar to drown out Michael’s voice.

  I finally put my book down. My foot tapped to Jeremy’s beat, and I caught myself humming along to the music. The band was pretty good. Even Mary sounded okay.

  “Cat? Wanna sing?”

  My foot halted its tapping, mid-air, as I suddenly realized the whole band was staring and Kirk was talking to me. Even though we were part of the same crowd, Kirk was too cool to say much to most of us other than the guys and maybe Lydia.

  But his mouth was definitely open and his voice speaking and his eyes boring in on me. At least, I think so. As usual, Kirk had his sunglasses on. It must be a band thing, even though no one else was following his lead.

  “Earth to Cat.” Mary waved, totally embarrassing me. “Kirk asked if you wanted to sing. I told him you wouldn’t.”

  The poisonous darts shooting out of her eyes were the only reason I could think of to sing. But could I sing? Sure, in a choir. But I’d already seen what the band thought of Michael’s voice, and I didn’t need Kirk telling everyone that I sucked. But no one else was here. If I wanted to try something new, this was the best moment for it.

  Kirk aimed a movie-star grin in my direction. In the dazzle of his gleaming teeth, I heard myself saying I’d do it.

  “C’mon.” Kirk waved me to a spot between him and Mary, right in front of Jeremy, and nodded at a microphone no one else seemed to be using. “Grab the mic or just stand in front of it. What do you wanna sing?”

  My mind went blank. Then, worse, it started playing the theme song from Dora the Explorer, which I’d heard at work yesterday too many times to count. “Rihanna?”

  I heard laughter from the guys other than Jeremy, who looked like he swallowed a pickle. Mary cringed. What? What
was wrong with Rihanna? She was totally cool.

  Kirk’s teeth gleamed at me again. God. No wonder girls went nuts for Kirk. “Rihanna is great, but not exactly the sound we’re going for.”

  Despite his words, I was pretty sure Michael and Zach were still chuckling, and I didn’t look at Mary or Jeremy. I started to feel sick. “Sorry. I don’t—”

  Kirk held up a hand. “We could do Katy Perry if you want girl stuff.” He snapped his fingers and turned toward the rest of the band. “How about ‘I Kissed a Girl’?”

  No way! Talk about embarrassing. “I don’t need to do a girl song.” Whatever he meant by that.

  “No, it’s totally cool. Or we could do Sarah Bareilles. ‘Love Song’ is decent. Or Colbie Caillat? A little on the girlie side, but—”

  “Honest. I don’t have to do girlie.”

  But what could I sing? The lyrics to every song I’d ever known flew out of my brain, and I didn’t know if the band had sheet music or lyrics or just made the whole thing up on the fly. I turned helplessly in Mary’s direction, but she just frowned at me. As I took a deep breath, seeking either courage or the sanity to leave right this instant, Kirk grabbed a sheet of paper and shoved it in my hands.

  “Let’s try Coldplay. ‘Yellow’? The band knows it.” His smile was on high beam now, practically blinding me. “Don’t worry. We’ll go easy on you.”

  I glanced down at the lyrics in my shaking hands, barely able to read the words in the dim lighting, but I took a deep breath and reminded myself that Tess said I was good. I factored in the odds that she was lying, and my confidence sagged along with my knees. I turned to hand the lyrics back to Kirk just as he slid his sunglasses down his nose and fixed me with a blue-eyed stare so intense I almost forgot about his smile.

  As I stared back at him, Mary and Kirk started strumming the opening chords of “Yellow” on their guitars, followed after a few moments by Jeremy, who tapped a soft but steady beat on his snare drum and cymbals. Nodding at me, Kirk made a big sweeping arc with his arm before coming down hard on a chord right before I was supposed to start singing. Totally over the top, totally look-at-me-I-play-lead-guitar, totally Kirk.

  I looked again at the lyrics and realized the words weren’t blurry anymore. I could read them.

  I started singing.

  My legs and arms felt wooden, though, and I was standing so far from the mic that it didn’t pick up my voice. After a few bars, Kirk stepped closer to me, still playing his guitar, and nodded at the mic. Gripping it with one sweaty hand and the stand with the other, I pulled the mic out of its clip and held it to my mouth.

  My voice still didn’t come out of the mic.

  I glanced at Kirk, who leaned close to me before flipping a switch on the mic. I breathed a quick “thanks” to him . . . and it blasted out through the speakers. Argh!

  Closing my eyes, I didn’t dare look at Mary, who must be seeing this whole stupid embarrassing moment as payback for all the times I’d tortured her.

  I finally realized the band was playing the same chords over and over, waiting for me. I felt sweat trickling down the back of my neck but looked at Kirk to catch his encouraging nod. As I started singing again, I couldn’t figure out why everyone treated Kirk like such an untouchable god. Okay, Lydia never had, but Lydia didn’t think any guy was untouchable.

  Which was why she was in reform school right now.

  But she’d been right about Kirk. He was cool. As the words kept pouring out of me, as the music kept thrumming through my head, I smiled back at him.

  Too soon, the song ended. No one thanked me for singing, but I figured they were just treating me like part of the band. I glanced around, but everyone was intent on their instruments, tuning them or figuring out what they wanted to play next. I stood there, starting to feel a little stupid. Should I go sit down? Or suggest another song I could sing?

  Finally, Kirk plucked the lyrics out of my hand and grinned at me. “Thanks, Cat. That was great.”

  He didn’t ask me to sing anything else, but I floated back to the couch and sat down. The band started playing again, without vocals except when Michael tried singing another song but gave up halfway through. I leaned back on the couch, happy I’d made it all the way through “Yellow,” feeling good.

  Finally.

  Chapter 12

  Her performance was pleasing, but by no means capital.

  — Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume I, Chapter Six

  Mary didn’t speak to me on the way home.

  I finally couldn’t take the silence. “What’sa matter? So I sang with your precious band. Jealous?”

  She kept driving, eyes on the road, not answering. When we reached a stop sign, she finally turned and stared at me. “Jealous? Are you nuts?”

  “Not the last time I checked, but thanks for asking.” I glanced out the passenger window of the Jeep as we passed Tess’s house. Seeing a few cars I recognized in front, I pushed down my own stab of jealousy. “You just can’t handle it. You finally got to be cool, at least according to some people, and I stepped on your turf. Deal with it.”

  Mary bit her lip as she kept driving, and I figured she was trying to keep from crying. I frowned when she suddenly started laughing. Big loud laughs rumbled out of her chest, and tears rolled down her cheeks, but she definitely wasn’t crying.

  She swiped a hand across her face. “You are too funny.”

  I glared at her. “I’m funny? I’m not the one who thinks she can strum a guitar and—poof!—suddenly start hanging out with Kirk Easton. I’m not you.”

  Her cheeks were dry now, but Mary was still grinning. She finally glanced at me, then back at the road. “No, you’re not me, and I’m not you, just like I’m not Liz. But I was trying to tell you that your singing wasn’t, uh, all that. I mean, it wasn’t awful. It was just over the top. As if you thought you were singing at the Grammys.”

  What a jerk. “You are jealous.”

  “Nope.” Her hands gripped the steering wheel, though, which was a good clue. “Not that you sing off-key, or at least not mostly. I know your so-called friends asked you to sing with us, but can’t you see they were setting you up?”

  “Like Kirk?” I crossed my arms over my chest, half-wishing Mary would drive the Jeep right into a ditch, even though it meant I’d go down with her. “Hey, I totally get it. You’re in a band with the coolest guy in school, and you can’t handle it that he wants me to sing. We’re pals.”

  Okay, not exactly, but she was acting like a jerk.

  She rolled her eyes. “He’s pals with that guy you used to like, isn’t he? Drew? And part of that whole gang? The ones you think are so cool?”

  I rolled my eyes, even though I’d wondered. Why did Drew suddenly want to dance with me? Why was Kirk being so nice? And why was Tess so involved in it all? “Whatever. For your information, I sang just great.”

  “Oh, sure. Great.” Mary snorted, and I would’ve slapped her if I didn’t think she’d lose control of the steering wheel and hit a little kid or something. “Honest, Cat, I don’t want to be mean, but—

  “Since when?”

  She just kept talking. “Did you happen to notice that no one asked you to sing again? Not even your buddy Kirk?”

  I brushed off a tiny niggle of worry about how I’d done. I didn’t believe Mary, but it did feel weird when no one asked me to sing again. But no one else sang, either, unless you counted the song Michael tried but didn’t finish.

  “You guys barely knew what you wanted to play, let alone any songs a girl would want to sing. Even Kirk said so.”

  Okay, not in so many words, but kinda.

  Without another word, Mary pulled up in front of our house, grabbed her backpack and guitar, and walked inside the house. She didn’t even slam the door on me.

  She was totally jealous.

  I think.

  In English on Thursday, Jeremy seemed intent on his copy of Pride and Prejudice, and he didn’t ask to borrow a pen or stick of
gum or come up with any of his other usual excuses to talk to me. Megan gave me weird looks from the far side of the room. Great. Another chilly day in Drawing class.

  The bell rang, and I picked up my stuff and headed into the crush of kids in the hallway, head down.

  “Hey.”

  A hand grabbed my sleeve, and I looked up cautiously into Tess’s smiling face. “I heard you sang with the band yesterday. Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve come.”

  And laughed? I kept walking to my locker as Tess trailed along. “I went on the spur of the moment. I didn’t know they’d ask me to sing.” I gulped, knowing I sounded nervous and hating it, especially when Tess was the one who should be explaining. About the dance last Friday. I mean, if Megan was right about Tess going to it. “Kirk asked me.”

  “I heard that, too.” Tess patted my shoulder. “Cool. I heard you did a good job.”

  “I just sang one song.”

  “You’ll sing more. They need you.”

  We reached my locker, and I spun the dial. “No one else really sang. Michael tried a song.”

  Tess’s nose scrunched. “He’s great on keyboard, but the guy can’t sing. Don’t you think?”

  The last thing I needed was to have Tess tell Michael that I said he couldn’t sing. Even though he couldn’t. Even the band didn’t have the guts to tell him, and I didn’t want to gossip about him. The weird thing was, that’s what my crowd did all the time: make fun of kids who didn’t hang with them.

  Like, at the moment, probably me.

  “That reminds me.” I gave Tess a tight smile as I grabbed my stuff for second period and slammed my locker maybe just a little too hard. “I heard you went to the dance on Friday. You said you had to go out with your parents.”

  Tess’s eyes went wide a moment before she nodded. “You know my parents. Totally unreliable.” True. Maybe that’s where Tess got it. “So when they bagged out on dinner, I called Amber and tried to call you.”