Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(80)

“It’s okay,” Helen says. “It’s normal to be a little anxious before a performance.”

“You don’t understand.” Matt looks down at his fret board. His hands are shaking. “I’m not just a little anxious. I’m terrified. My palms are sweating. I’m going to rust out my strings.” He wipes his palms on his jeans.

I step up next to Matt. Put my arm around his shoulders. “You’re going to be dazz, Matt. Trust me. You know the chords. We ran through these songs a million times yesterday.” I look across the gym at Valerie, who’s talking to Ms. Hosie. “Just chill. We’re going to have Val stand right in front during our set. You focus on her. It’s just going to be Val and The Doctor in this room. No one else.”

Matt nods as The Wicked start in on their warm-up. They do part of a Beyoncé tune and part of a Pink song. I can’t say I’m too impressed. Maybe they’re just holding back.

“We’re up,” I say when The Wicked put down their instruments.

“Can I put on my outfit?” Matt looks all twitchy as he plugs in his guitar.

“No.” I get myself settled on the stool behind my drums. “We’re saving that for the show.”

Sean hits the switch on his keyboards. “What do you want to play?”

“Let’s do ‘Go Your Own Way,’” Helen says. “Since we’re not doing that in our set.”

“Everyone ready?” I get nods from Matt, Sean, and Helen, then count us in.

We play through the first chorus. Sean hits a few sour notes and I speed up the beat a little too much, but Helen’s voice is pitch-perfect.

I catch Prudence and her gang hanging by the doors, listening to us and looking totally green, which makes me smile.

“Matt,” Sean says when we stop. “I can barely hear your guitar. You need to turn it up.”

He winces at the suggestion. “Can’t I just keep it in the background?”

I stand and look over my drums. “Dude. Come on. You’ve got this. It’s go monster or go home time.”

“I know. It’s just . . . when I’ve got my doctor’s coat on I can pretend I’m someone else. But like this”— Matt gestures at his street clothes —“I feel so . . . exposed.”

“Just close your eyes then,” I say. “And pretend you’re wearing your coat.”

Matt nods apprehensively. “Okay. I’ll try.” He turns up the volume on his amp and closes his eyes.

I start the drum intro to “Dani California” and we roll through the first two verses. We’re much tighter during this song, which makes me breathe a whole lot easier.

“Sounds good, guys,” Helen says, placing her mic back in the stand.

Valerie approaches and grabs Helen’s arm. “We better start getting your outfit ready.”

I laugh. “It’s that complicated?”

“Good things take time,” Valerie says. “Come on, we’ll use the second floor bathroom so we’re not disturbed.”

The girls exit and make their way down the hall. I catch sight of Prudence and Bronte heading in the same direction, and I get a bad feeling. I’m up off my drum stool, starting to go after them, when Sean grabs my arm.

“Coop, I’m getting some serious popping in my amp,” he says. “What do you think it could be?” He flips the switch on the amplifier to demonstrate. There’s a heavy buzzing sound punctuated by a series of loud snaps.

I glance toward the gym doors and tell myself that everything’s fine; that Valerie’s with Helen; that I’m just being oversensitive; and that we only have a few minutes to take care of this problem before the first band starts playing.

“Let’s take a look,” I say, moving to the back of Sean’s Marshall stack. “It’s probably just a loose cable or something.”





I’M CROUCHED BEHIND SEAN’S AMP, about to apply electrical tape to the suspect cable, when out of nowhere this miserable feeling crashes over me like a tidal wave. It’s totally bizarre. I’ve never felt anything like it before in my life.

It’s like this knowing drops down into me and I am aware now that something’s wrong with Helen. I don’t know what it is, or how I know it. I just do.

I move from behind the amplifier, stepping by Matt. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Matt asks.

“To check on the girls,” I say.

Sean calls after me but whatever he says doesn’t register.

I bust through the gym doors and start walking down the hallway toward the stairs. The endless succession of blue lockers lining the walls, the shiny beige floor, the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, seem to stretch out forever. I’ve got that panicky I’m-not-going-to-make-it-in-time feeling thrumming inside me.

In time for what? I have no idea.

I pick up the pace, walking faster. But still the staircase at the end of the hall feels like it’s a mile away.

Prudence and Bronte come down the steps. They’re both laughing like they’ve just heard the greatest joke ever. As they approach me, they attempt to compose themselves.

“Good luck tonight,” Bronte sputters as they pass me. She waves Gina’s Flip Video camera at me. “You’re going to need it, traitor.”