Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(72)

But I know, standing there in the middle of all that destruction, there will be no Battle of the Bands for us.





“I’M VERY SORRY TO HEAR THAT,” Mr. Grossman says after I tell him why Arnold Murphy’s Bologna Dare is going to have to bow out of the Battle of the Bands. I didn’t go into too much detail. I just said we had a fire and that our equipment was destroyed. “Is there no other option? Perhaps you could rent some instruments.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we can swing that,” I say. “Financially and all.”

“But surely your parents’ insurance will cover things.”

“They didn’t have any,” I lie. Dad says there’s no way we can make a claim. Not with him being directly responsible for the fire. “Not only will they not pay,” Dad insisted, “our rates’ll be jacked sky-high if they find out who caused it.”

I trudge from Mr. Grossman’s office feeling totally bummed, but also — if I’m being completely honest — a little bit relieved. At least now I won’t have to deal with the repercussions of taking the stage with Helen fronting the band. Especially since it doesn’t appear she’ll be leaving the school anytime soon, seeing as how she hasn’t received an acceptance letter from Our Lady of Mercy.

At least, as far as I know.

I’ve had to cease my secret visits to her mailbox because Mrs. Harriwick caught me on their porch again. I’m pretty sure she bought my excuse that I wanted to ask her about Christmas present ideas for Helen, but I also think if she catches me a third time — especially in tandem with her jammed-up mailbox — it might raise some suspicion.

But Helen hasn’t mentioned getting any letters. Even with my subtle and leading inquiries: “My parents are thinking they might want me to transfer schools next year. . . .”, “I got this weird notice in the mail the other day that said I was accepted into the book of the month club. And I didn’t even apply. . . .”, “Someone told me that Mr. Tard is gunning for the principal position at Our Lady of Mercy. . . .” And so on.

Now that the Battle of the Bands thing has resolved itself, I’m really glad Helen’s letter hasn’t come. Sure, she’s going to be the target of Prudence’s teasing till we graduate, but at least she’ll never put two and two together and find out that I played a major part in filling out her application.

“What did Mr. Grossman say?” Matt asks as I step up between him and Sean at our lockers.

I grab my lock and spin the combo. “He said he was sorry.”

“Not half as sorry as I am,” Sean grouses. “Do you have any idea how expensive a Mesa/Boogie amplifier is? My Uncle Doug will be garnishing my allowance for the next ten years to replace it.” He sighs. “Even so, it’d be totally worth it if we were still going to play. Then Tianna would be all jealous watching me onstage, getting swarmed by a mob of screaming girls.”

“Yup.” I grab my Health text and notebook. “It’s too bad.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Prudence strutting down the hall. It dawned on me last night that her big plan to humiliate Helen will most likely involve the Health presentation that we’re giving in a few days. It’s why she didn’t want to tell me about it. I don’t know how I missed that.

I wonder if there’s any way I could get Prudence to abort her mission without her getting suspicious. Because, yeah, it’ll be bad for Helen. But if Prudence does whatever she’s planning on doing while I’m standing in front of the class next to Helen, it’ll be humiliation by association.

“I’ll catch up with you guys after detention.” I snick my lock shut and head off to catch up with Prudence.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” I say, matching Prudence’s step.

She smiles. “What’s up, Coopee?”

“I think you need to postpone whatever it is you have planned for Helen.”

Prudence’s eyes narrow. “And why do you think that?”

“She hasn’t gotten her acceptance letter yet.”

“You know this, how?”

She heads down the stairs. I move with her.

“Let’s just say I’ve been doing some covert ops. Just to make sure everything was going smoothly. I’m ninety-nine percent sure it hasn’t come. And personally, I think the whole thing works best if she’s already got her escape hatch when the embarrassment happens. Otherwise, her anger might fade.”

“That’s a very good point, Coopee,” Prudence says, heading toward the front doors. She stops before leaving the school and turns back to me. “But I don’t care. It’s happening.” She smiles. “And you know what else? She’s never going to forget it.”

With that, she pushes open the door and disappears outside.

Leaving me standing in the hallway, feeling like I’ve just been hurled off the Brooklyn Bridge with cement blocks tied to my feet.





TODAY HELEN AND I ARE GIVING our Health presentation. Several pairs have already gone this week. Most of them were pretty lame and boring. Andy Bennett and Nicky Hickey just sat on stools at the front of the room and read alcohol facts off sheets of paper. Prudence and Sam were not much better. Sam did most of the talking while Prudence just pointed to things on a poster like the world’s hottest game-show hostess.