by Ginger Rue
“You’re unbelievable,” said Tig. “How did you know how to do all this?”
“I don’t know,” Kyra said. “It comes kind of naturally. Sort of like the way drums are for you. It’s fun! Making deals is a rush!”
“Would you excuse us one moment?” Tig asked. She and the other girls walked away from the table to confer. They were unanimous. When they came back to the table, Tig said, “Kyra, we’d like to officially ask you to be the manager for Pandora’s Box.”
“Really?” said Kyra. “Thanks. But what exactly does a manager do?”
“You manage us,” Robbie said. “Just like you’ve already been doing.”
“And you make fifteen percent of whatever we make,” said Tig.
“You’re serious?” Kyra said.
“Dead serious,” said Tig.
“Yes!” said Kyra. “A thousand times yes!”
There were hugs and squeals, and then Kyra pulled out her phone again. She typed in something and exclaimed, “You do realize this would cut each of your pay to just under sixty dollars instead of seventy.”
“Totally worth it,” Claire said. “If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have any money at all.”
“Or the West Al prom!” Olivia said.
Robbie looked at Tig and grimaced a bit. Then she smiled and said, “Claire’s right. Totally worth it.”
Three days later, after receiving the video Kyra made, Uncle Paul got word from the client.
Paris would be just fine. . . .
The commercial was a go!
Everything in Tig’s life seemed to be falling into place.
Chapter Fifty-Two
The following Monday at school, it seemed that word had gotten out about Pandora’s Box getting the prom gig. In the gym before the first bell, the girls got several congratulations from different classmates. When the bell rang and they all began to file out of the gym, Tig realized she’d left her lunch bag on the bleachers. “Shoot,” she said to her group. “Be right back.”
Trying to get back into the gym while everyone else was leaving was like swimming upstream, of course. Just as she’d finally gotten past the doors, someone pulled her arm and tugged her toward the wall. Instinctively, Tig pulled back, until she looked up and saw that it was Will.
“Oh, hey,” she said.
“I just wanted to get you alone for a second,” Will said.
Tig looked around at all the other students exiting the gym. “This is alone?”
Will smiled. “It will be in about a minute. Listen, I just heard about the prom gig. That’s really great. I’m proud of you.”
Tig blushed. “Thanks.”
“You’re pretty amazing. You know that?”
“Will . . .,” Tig began. She looked down. Will’s hand found her chin and gently pulled it up. Their eyes met. Then he brushed her bangs out of her eyes.
“We can’t do this right now,” Tig said.
“You’re right. We don’t want to be late for class.”
“No, I don’t mean ‘this’ as in the two of us talking, right here, right now. I mean ‘this’ as in us . . . you and me . . . together. The timing’s not right.”
Will sighed. “When will the timing be right?”
“I think we need to at least finish out the school year, don’t you? Give Olivia some time to get over you?”
“So the day after school gets out?” He smiled. “Not that I’m overly eager or anything.”
“Let’s play it by ear,” Tig said. “This summer will give everybody some space . . . and some time to figure things out.”
“You’re right,” Will said. “In the meantime, you kill it at that prom. I’m rooting for you.”
Tig smiled. “Killing it is exactly what we plan to do.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
At one of the last few rehearsals before the prom, after they’d run through the full set list and were about to call it a day, Paris said, “I know we’ve learned a lot of new songs lately, and I may be way off base even suggesting this, but I’ve got an idea.”
Everyone stopped packing up and gave Paris their attention. “Robbie, you got something to go with this?” Paris started playing a bass line, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
“Ahhh!” Robbie exclaimed. “You know I do!” Robbie started playing along on the guitar.
“Yes!” said Tig. She began pounding out an appropriate drumbeat.
“I can deal with this,” said Olivia. “I love this song!” She fell in on keyboards.
After they’d grooved a few bars, Claire jumped in with the lyrics.
When it was over, the girls all yelled and high-fived.
“Why didn’t we think of this a long time ago?” Robbie said.
“I know!” said Tig. “This is the perfect song for us! Good call, P!”
“You know what we should do?” Claire said. “Do it for our encore at prom.”
“It’ll bring down the house!” said Olivia. “This song is our secret weapon!”
“I’ll get dozens of balloons to come down from the ceiling when the song begins!” Kyra said. “I’ll pass out cans of that spray string! Oh, the crowd will go absolutely wild! How totally fun!”
Tig smiled, thinking of how the West Al Academy prom would be a night no one would soon forget.
Chapter Fifty-Four
One thing about West Alabama Academy: they knew how to do prom right.
“The yacht club,” Paris said. “Fancy folks. I never thought I’d be playing music here.”
“This is nothing,” Robbie said. “Next month you’ll be shooting a national commercial. Bet you didn’t see that coming either.”
“Can’t say I did,” Paris replied.
“Stick with me, kid,” Robbie said. “I can take you places.”
In the dressing room, the girls found the peanut-butter pretzels, ginger ale, and barbeque chips, just as Kyra had promised. The girl from the prom committee stopped by to see if the girls needed anything else before they went on. “No, thanks,” Tig said. “We’re great. I mean, not like, ‘We’re great’ like we think we’re great or something—”
“We have everything we need,” Robbie said, shaking her head at Tig.
The girls put the finishing touches on their stage looks. Robbie wore spandex pants and a patterned top; Olivia, a graphic tee, jean shorts over purple leggings with combat boots, and a knit beanie; Tig, a plaid peplum top and jeans; Paris, a black leather skirt and black top with a big necklace; and Claire, neon glow-in-the-dark bracelets and black leather pants with a white T-shirt with black stars.
When they were situated on the stage and the lights were still down, Tig could hear the murmur and shuffling of the crowd. It made her nervous, but also excited. When the prom committee chairman said, “Ladies and gentlemen, Pandora’s Box!” Robbie gave a quick nod to Tig before they launched into “Blitzkrieg Bop.” That upbeat tune went over big with the already enthusiastic crowd. Parents, teachers, and all the students were on the floor jumping all over the place. No one was hanging back. The crowd cheered the end of that song as the girls seamlessly segued into “It’s Only Rock ’n Roll.”
Next they launched into “Signed, Sealed, Delivered,” followed by the One Nothing song Tig had feared she would mess up. But surprisingly, it wasn’t Tig who flubbed . . . it was Robbie. During the intro, Robbie missed a half step, which threw her off on the drop. She picked it back up in the chorus, though. She turned around and looked at Tig and stuck out her tongue and squeezed her eyes shut. Then they both smiled and nodded at each other. Tig was kind of relieved to see that even Robbie could have an off moment once in a while.
When Claire thanked the crowd and said good night, the girls listened as the audience clapped and requested more. They waited only a minute or two before the encore. There were cheers and whistles when they returned to the stage.
“I hope you all had fun tonight!” Claire said. The crowd whooped. “I know we had fun. And you know. . . .” Claire beg
an slowly singing the title verse of the iconic chorus without musical accompaniment. Even though she sang it drawn out and dramatically, without its customary bounciness, the audience knew what was coming next and went absolutely berserk.
When the band struck up “Girls Just Want to Have Fun,” the floor was packed with more dancers than before. As Kyra had promised, balloons came down from the ceiling, and the students, teachers, and parents all squealed as they danced around and sprayed one another using the cans of spray string.
As Pandora’s Box packed up and New Haircut set up, the prom chairman piped music from his phone through the speakers to tide the crowd over. Mrs. Marquez handed Kyra a check. “You ladies did not disappoint,” she said. “Thank you for an excellent opening act!”
“Our pleasure,” Kyra said. “Thank you.”
“Such big things ahead for you girls! National exposure! Who knows what might result? I’m really looking forward to your commercial!” Mrs. Marquez said.
The girls, tired but still racing with adrenaline from a great set, smiled.
“Thanks. So are we,” Tig said. “So are we.”
About the Author
Ginger Rue is the author of Brand-New Emily and Jump. She’s a former advice columnist for a teen magazine, and her work has appeared in Seventeen, Teen Vogue, Girls’ Life, Family Circle, and other publications. She is currently a contributing editor for Guideposts.
Ginger lives in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, with her husband, two daughters, and stepson. Before becoming a writer, Ginger toured extensively with Van Halen as their backup drummer. Okay, so she can’t play drums at all and she totally made up the part about touring with Van Halen . . . but she’s a fiction writer, so making stuff up is her job.
