by Jen Calonita
“One, two, three, GO!” Jilly shouted, and the two of us began paddling. Seconds later, I could feel the wave pushing me forward, past kids playing in the water until—WHOOSH!—I was sliding on the sand.
“I did it!” I shouted. The four of us jumped up and down, screaming like we just met PS for the first time. The lifeguards were looking over, but I didn’t care. “That was awesome!” I wiped the sand and water away from my face. “Let’s do it again!”
“You need to get your own board,” Scarlet pointed out. “You didn’t buy one, remember?”
“I think her exact words were ‘I’d rather see Perfect Storm get the chicken pox and cancel their next five concerts than buy a boogie board!’” Jilly reminded me.
“That was a little harsh,” I admitted. “I’ll get one and come back.”
“We’ll all go,” Jilly said. “We could get frozen custard. Or fudge. Or both!”
I laughed. “More fudge is fine by me. But if we’re all going into town, then maybe we can also do something else I’ve been dying to do.”
“Are you going to make me play mini golf on that rooftop?” Jilly asked. She was afraid of heights.
“Nah,” I said as we walked along the boards that led us back to the streets where one beautiful home followed another. “I don’t want you throwing up on me. I was hoping we could try a psychic.” Jilly groaned. “It could be fun! There is one right by the frozen-custard stand. We could all get readings.”
“From a beach-town psychic?” Scarlet lowered her shades and gave me a skeptical look. “It’s going to be bogus.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. Lemon Ade, who PS opened for this spring, had a psychic reading in at least three tour stops. She said it really helped her channel her chi, whatever that is. “Madam Celeste has been in business for twenty-four years.” According to her sign. “It could be fun to hear what she thinks Future Us will be like.”
Jilly shrugged. “I guess I’m game.”
Iris nodded. “Me too.”
Which is when Scarlet caved. “Fine, but I’m not believing a word she says! They’re all frauds.”
I’m not sure Scarlet would still use the word “fraud” after hearing her future as predicted by Madam Celeste. She learned that she’s destined to be a famous inventor. (“Madam Celeste said my braces-that-don’t-look-like-braces idea is going to be HUGE!” Scarlet squealed when she emerged.)
Iris wasn’t as happy with her report. It said nothing about her winding up with a “tall, dark haired, brooding artist with the first initial Z.” Even after prompting Madam Celeste several times during the reading. Iris came out looking dejected. “She said I’m going to live a long life and karma will always be on my side.”
I don’t know, but that seemed like good news to me.
Jilly was equally uninspired. “She sees green in my future, and me living a very comfortable life.” She shrugged her sunburned shoulders. “I already knew that. My dad is loaded.” Her eyes wandered over to the fudge shop across the street.
My Madam Celeste idea was turning out to be a bust. It sounded like she was a fraud. Her shop was sandwiched between the custard place and a funnel-cake stand. When I walked in, I saw she was wearing what looked like a Halloween gypsy costume. Her makeup was super caked on, too, with bright red lips. When I sat on the folding chair across from her, she looked at me strangely.
“You, dearie, are in for a storm,” she said, pointing a long red nail in my direction. “A perfect storm at that.”
My ears perked up. Maybe Madam Celeste was the real deal after all! She knew about Perfect Storm! “Yes, I am!” I said giddily, leaning forward and pulling out my phone. I couldn’t help but show her the picture I drew for the guys’ album of a ship in a stormy sea. “My art teacher says I have talent.” I looked into her gray eyes. “By any chance, do you see the Eiffel Tower in my future?”
Madam Celeste frowned. “I do not understand. You have seen this storm you will face, too? Perhaps you have the gift, like I do. It is in your eyes.”
“Gift?” I was confused. “Who is getting me a gift? Is it someone whose name starts with K, because—”
Madam Celeste clasped my hands. Her palms were ice-cold and white. “You have dark days ahead of you. You may have already been betrayed and don’t even know it. A perfect storm is coming for you, and you cannot stop it.” Her stony stare disappeared and was replaced by a small smile. “That will be twenty-five dollars, please.”
I pulled my hands away and reached into my wallet for payment. What did she mean by a perfect storm if she didn’t mean my favorite boy band? “That’s it?”
Madam Celeste pulled out a black money box and opened it to make change for my two twenties. “I see what I see.”
Friday, June 10
LOCATION: Central Park—New York City
Madam Celeste was wrong, wrong, wrong! HA! The last couple of weeks were anything but stormy. In fact, they were sunnier than ever (literally—it has been sunny almost every day this month).
Things were going great. Perfect Storm was back in town, having survived their trip to the Bahamas without getting stranded on a desert island with pretty fans in bikinis. (This was a recurring nightmare I had Memorial Day weekend. I blame the psychic reading.) And while I suffered through the remaining weeks of school in a hot classroom, PS was close by in New York City, recording more tracks for their album. Heath had texted me yesterday that they were finally supposed to record “The Story of a Girl” track next week after making some tweaks to the music and lyrics with The Raven, who still didn’t think it was strong enough to be a single. If The Raven ruined the first (of hopefully many) songs Kyle wrote about me, I was going to go Mac Attack on him.
As Mom and I stepped out of a cab at Central Park, the sun was just beginning to rise over the trees. I stretched my arms and loudly yawned.
“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Mom said as she placed a lanyard over my head. I stared at my favorite words in the whole world: VIP BACKSTAGE ACCESS. I’ve kept every pass from every concert I’ve been to with PS. This one had Perfect Storm’s faces outlined in the stars and stripes associated with the Good Day USA logo. “Getting up at five is worth it to see Perfect Storm perform live this morning.”
“Definitely!” I half yawned, half yelled. PS was appearing on the Good Day USA morning-concert series, which was a huge deal, and it meant Mom had to be there super early to make sure everything was ready for their set.
“Briggs said the boys are on their way. We can wait for them backstage.” Mom walked slightly ahead of me through Central Park, typing a message on her phone as she talked. “The concert is only about a half hour, and then they’re off to the studio to record while Briggs and I finalize their future tour plans,” she added. “Lemon Ade’s tour is winding down, so we’re trying to decide if they should take a break from the road till they can headline or co-tour with someone else who is also just starting out.”
“Take a break from touring?” I freaked. “I can’t live without Perfect Storm all summer!”
“Breathe, Mac.” Mom steadied me. “I suggested they finish their album first, but the label wants them on the road at the same time to keep the momentum going.” Mom pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ll be packing again before you know it—lighter this time,” she stressed.
I might have overpacked a teensy bit last time. “It’s summer. Shorts and tees take up less room.”
Mom walked through the security check ahead of me. The concert area was directly past security and packed with girls carrying PS signs and wearing PS shirts. They were singing along to a Perfect Storm song playing from the speakers on the stage in the middle of the park. There was a huge banner that said PERFECT STORM LIVE THIS FRIDAY MORNING ON GOOD DAY USA hanging overhead. A cameraman was getting a close-up of the girls while another was focusing on the morning-show host, Raquel Rodgers. When she gestured to the crowd, a crew member onstage held up a sign that said SCREAM, and the fans went nuts. Mom an
d I were ushered behind the stage to a series of tents, one of which said GREENROOM.
I know the word “tent” sounds like something you’d find on a Girl Scouts camping trip, but these were luxury tents that looked like rooms in someone’s house. The greenroom for Perfect Storm was HUGE! There were couches, a coffee table filled with breakfast snacks, and a makeup table and chair. They had even set out potted plants and a carpet to cover the grass. A drink fountain filled with Roaring Dragon gurgled in the background (thankfully, it was the red energy drink, not the green one I accidentally sprayed all over Zander one time. He’s deathly afraid of all edible green things). At the moment, we were the only ones in the room.
Mom’s phone started to ring. “I have to take this, but you can wait here.” She dashed out, leaving me alone with all that makeup. I rushed over and began trying black eyeliner. It went on a little crooked, but it made me feel very Mac Attack. I added pink gloss to my lips so they were super shiny like Lemon Ade’s. I even smacked them in the mirror for effect. Mwah! I looked pretty good! Raquel Rodgers probably got her hair and makeup done twice a day. I could get used to that. Maybe I was destined to be a morning-show host.
“Hi, I’m Mackenzie Lowell, and this is Good Day USA,” I said with a cool accent into the makeup mirror. “On today’s show, we have the hottest boy band on the planet: Perfect Storm!” I cheered. “I have the exclusive on the band’s upcoming tour, what they’re like when they’re not recording, and… and…” What else could I add? Ooh, I knew. I could ask who they were dating. “And…”
“Who is the cutest?” someone asked.
I was so startled I jumped and sent eyeliner pencils, makeup brushes, and lip glosses flying. “Kyle!” I dropped to the ground to hide my tomato-red face and began picking up the makeup. “You snuck up on me again.” Kyle walked over to help. He smelled like maple syrup and soap. I stopped what I was doing for a moment to breathe the scent in deeply. Maybe a little too deeply. And loudly.
“Are you okay?” Kyle put a hand on my arm.
“I’m fine!” I said. “I just thought I smelled a fire. I wasn’t sure if someone left a curling iron on. I’d hate for Central Park to burn down because of someone’s need for curls.”
Kyle looked ready for summer in a lime-green T-shirt and jeans, his hair styled to keep it from moving in the wind. “I don’t smell anything.” He grinned, and I felt my heart go KA-THUMP. “I’m sure you’re just imagining things, but if you’re not, I promise to rescue you from the flames.”
How sweet! I could see Kyle carrying me out of the smoky tent to safety…
“I said, do you want the chocolate chip?” Kyle asked. He was holding out a plate of muffins. “I know it’s your favorite, and it’s the only one they have.”
This is what happens when you daydream. I had missed Kyle’s offering me my favorite muffin. Double sweetness! “You can have it. You need your energy.”
Heath came barreling into the tent playing air guitar. Today his hair was orange, and it was super messy. “There’s a Roaring Dragon fountain! Cool!” Heath took the muffin from Kyle’s hand. Kyle and I looked at each other and shrugged. Heath bit into the muffin and offered us the rest.
“Dude, that’s gross!” Zander said as he walked in. He grabbed the muffin remains and tossed them like a hot potato. Kyle caught it and shot it at Heath, who threw it at Zander’s head. “Watch the hair! These curls have already been locked in place.” Zander shook his awesome curls, which I had to admit were still mesmerizing.
“Not bad for seven AM, Zander,” Jilly teased, appearing in the tent at the same time as Briggs.
Briggs was already on his phone like Mom. It took me a second to realize they were actually talking to each other from opposite sides of the room. They quickly hung up to talk in person. Then the room got really loud as makeup artists and Good Day USA members flooded in to mic the guys and check their faces for shine. Jilly and I ducked out to keep from suffocating.
“This is way too early for me,” Jilly said with a yawn, and I noticed she was wearing the same leggings I saw her in the night before.
“Mom had me up at five,” I said, “but it was worth it. Usually I have to watch the Good Day USA concerts from my living room before I leave for school and then DVR the rest.”
“Daddy says it’s a big deal that Perfect Storm was asked.” Jilly swiped a bagel from someone walking by with a tray. “‘I Need You’ is still climbing the charts, so I guess it got them noticed.”
“Excuse me? Can I get one of those?” I saw a familiar dark haired boy running after the guy with the bagel tray. The guy ignored him. “Excuse me? Bagel? Want? Please?” He stopped in front of us, and his shoulders drooped. “Figures. Perfect Storm arrives, and suddenly no one else exists.”
It was one of the fans from the studio who was recording his demo last month.
“Cody, you didn’t catch him? I need my carbs before we go onstage!” The other boy came running over in a black-and-white varsity jacket just like his brother’s. It was too matchy-matchy.
“He just kept walking.” Cody gestured to the retreating figure that was now heading into the Perfect Storm dressing room.
“Of course. Our names aren’t Zander, Heath, or Kyle, so we don’t deserve breakfast,” Jeremy said with an eye roll. “I can’t stand Perfect Storm. Those jerks think the world revolves around them.”
Jerks? Hating my favorite boy band? I’d heard enough. “Hey!” I poked Jeremy in the shoulder. “Don’t talk about Perfect Storm like that.”
“Mac,” Jilly said calmly. “It’s not worth it. Just ignore them.” She was used to this sort of thing, having been around PS longer.
“No! You can’t trash PS like that, especially at their own concert,” I said.
“Who are you? Their manager?” Jeremy looked at me intently and started to laugh. “I recognize you. You’re the little fans who were at the recording studio that night we were there. Of course you’d take their side. You don’t know any better.”
“And you’re that brother duo we met called…” Jilly snapped her fingers. “Thunder Clap?”
“Thunder and Lightning,” Jeremy and Cody said at the same time.
“Weren’t you stalking PS that night?” Jilly asked suspiciously. “You wanted them to listen to your demo choices, right? And now you hate them?”
“Yeah!” I chimed in because I had no clue what else to say.
“We used to like Perfect Storm, till we realized how they treat their fans,” Jeremy said coolly, running his hand through his hair like he was in a music video. “Then we dropped them. Which is exactly what the rest of the world will do, too, once they hear Thunder and Lightning.”
Jilly snorted.
“Wait till you hear our single,” Cody told her, and when he looked straight at Jilly, I noticed her jaw go slack. Cody had killer eyes and a lifeguard vibe going for him. “We were given a song at the last minute, and it wound up being the one we recorded as our demo. That song got us a record deal with Perfect Storm’s label.”
“They’re going down!” Jeremy lifted his hand, and Cody high-fived him.
My blood was beginning to boil. “Going down?”
Jilly grabbed my arm to hold me back. Mac Attack would know what to say in this situation. She’d sound smart and say something that put the boys in their place. “You… you…” They all stared at me. “You…” Why wouldn’t the words come to me? “You wish!” I yelled as the screaming from the crowd intensified. Jeremy laughed at me. So much for channeling Mac Attack. “You’ll never be as popular as Perfect Storm,” I added.
Jeremy stopped laughing. His expression was stony. “We’ll see about that. Come on, Cody.” He motioned to his brother. “T and L out.”
“T and L out?” Jilly called after them. “Who talks like that?”
I heard an announcement on someone’s headset. “PS is on in five!”
“Did you just say T and L?” a man asked. He had a beach ball–size belly that was straining
to stay covered under a white shirt. Three gold chains swung from his neck, one with the initial R. His black hair was slicked back with way too much hair product, and he smelled like Madam Celeste’s tiny room, which made me start to hyperventilate. “Did you meet my boys? They’re playing their hot new single during commercial breaks this morning, and they’ve only been on the Rock Starz label for two weeks. They’re going to be HUGE! Do you want their autograph?”
“No,” Jilly and I said at the same time. He blinked.
Perfect Storm’s entourage was piling out of the greenroom to get the guys to the stage. Kyle, Zander, and Heath were getting their earplugs and mics adjusted as they walked.
When Briggs saw Jilly, he looked at the man we were standing with and stopped short. “Ronald?”
“Briggsy! Good to see you, man.” Ronald pumped Briggs’s hand. “I’m here with my new band. They just signed to Rock Starz.”
“Our label?” Kyle asked. “Brill. Where are the chaps?”
“Getting warmed up,” Ronald said. “Thunder and Lightning killed this amazing ballad they nabbed for their demo. The girls are going to love them.”
“I doubt it,” I mumbled under my breath, and Mom looked at me.
“Boys, we have to move,” Briggs said, and I could tell by his tone he didn’t like Ronald or T and L much, either. “We have a show to do.”
“Thunder and Lightning,” Zander muttered. “That’s a rip-off of our name!”
“Shake it off, mate.” Kyle gave him a pat on the back. “Let’s go wow them.”
Wow them, they did. Even Raquel Rodgers seemed starstruck when Zander let her touch his curls (to the earsplitting screams of the audience). I stood at the side of the stage with Jilly, feeling proud, especially when Kyle looked over midsong and winked at me. There was nothing that could stop this summer from being the best one EVER.
Except what happened during the first commercial break.
