Moving Neutral (12 page)

She paused as she registered my presence, hesitating for a moment and then climbing up onto the bus, taking a seat next to Sophie and across from us on one of the leather sofas.

Who’s this? she chirped, asking Blake, not me. I felt color rising to my cheeks, and I looked back at her uncertainly, not sure of what to say. The words no one flashed through my mind involuntarily, but I managed to stop myself from saying them out loud.

This is Casey, Blake replied, his voice firm and certain. He didn’t say anything else, and I tried to look back and forth from him to April covertly, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

Casey, April repeated, her voice sticky sweet. Nice to meet you, Casey, she flashed her perfect teeth into something that vaguely resembled a smile and ran a hand through her hair.

I tried to smile back, nervous and unsure of myself. Was I really on a mission to make the lead singer of my favorite band hate me?

I looked over at Blake, biting my lip. He rubbed his thumb against my hand, a tiny gesture of encouragement. April noticed it at the same time, and I watched her eyes harden against me.

I’m going to go take a nap, she said, ignoring the food and walking through the passageway that Blake had shown me earlier. It led to the back of the bus, where there were two bathrooms and four bunk beds, nestled into alcoves on either side of a narrow hallway. We should get going, she muttered to no one in particular, as if she hadn’t been the one holding up the bus in the first place.

We sat in silence for a second after she’d gone.

She’ll warm up, Sophie said softly, as if reading my mind. April brings her friends along for a couple of stops all the time, she paused, as if trying to reassure me. It’s really not a big deal.

But Blake distracted me from thinking about it any further, pulling something out of a cabinet and handing it to me.

I looked down at my hand. It was an iPod.

Come on, he said. You haven’t even heard our music yet. Hopefully you won’t hate it, he grinned, obviously confident that I wouldn’t.

I looked down at the device in my hand, not sure what to do. If there were ever a time to tell Blake we’d been at his show, I’d probably already passed it last night.

I can’t wait, I said, not entirely lying, and slipped the headphones over my ears, hitting the button to play the first song.

April’s familiar voice filled my ears the next instant, not icy and clipped as it had been in person, but lyrical, sweet, blocking out everything else in the bus. I tried not to mouth the words as the first song of Moving Neutral’s album played. Blake stared at me expectantly, intensely, wanting me to love the music he’d written. I looked into his bright blue eyes, and at least that part was easy.

The man in his twenties, who Blake had pointed out the night before as the band’s manager, climbed on the bus last. He seemed to register my presence without paying much attention, as if he barely noticed that I was there. He nodded at everyone, and said something to the driver that I couldn’t hear through the music. The engine roared and the bus shifted into gear, and we pulled away from the concert venue from the night before.

Blake took my hand as we drove out onto the street, and I smiled with excitement, still not quite able to believe it was all really happening.

By the time we arrived in Northampton, I’d listened to the whole album twice. Blake looked ecstatic that I liked their music so much, and part of me felt guilty for lying to him. But I didn’t see how I could get out of it now.

I looked out the window as we passed through the streets of the town, picturesque New England details on every block. A church steeple stood out over the buildings, white and unmissable against the clear blue sky. College students in shorts and sweatshirts roamed the streets, pulling backpacks over their shoulders and carrying bottles of water or mugs of coffee.

This is a good first show for you to see, Blake told me as the bus pulled up to the concert hall and we got out. It’s smaller than the place we played last night, and it’ll be a fun college crowd, he paused. This would have been a big show for us a year ago, he said, almost to himself.

They’ll unload all our gear and get everything set up, Sophie interrupted him. So we have an hour or two to kill. Do you guys want to walk around?

Something I had never imagined when I thought about a band’s tour bus -- there were actually two buses, each of them branded with the design from Moving Neutral’s album cover. The first bus, which I had been on, was for April, Blake, Jesse, and Sophie. The second bus was for everyone else who worked on the tour -- the crew that handled lighting, sound, the effects on stage, hair and makeup, and a hundred other jobs that I couldn’t even wrap my head around when Blake explained them. It wasn’t a huge group, but there were a dozen or so people on the second bus, and so far I hadn’t been introduced to any of them.

Sure, I nodded, following Sophie and Blake down the sidewalk, away from the concert space.

We’re leaving after the show, Blake continued. We’re playing a festival in Vermont tomorrow, so we have to be there earlier in the day. It’s usually easier to just sleep on the bus, instead of getting up really early to make the trip then.

I thought about seeing Moving Neutral three times in as many days. It was hard to believe it was really true.

We stopped in an ice cream shop, a picture-perfect spot that belonged to a local dairy farmer. I ordered a cone of mint chocolate chip and Blake paid for all of us, including Sophie’s caramel sundae. We sat outside on a bench, watching as parents in sunglasses wheeled strollers down the sidewalks.

When we’d finished, I told Blake that I wanted to look at some of the clothing shops. The tshirts and shorts I’d packed for Madison’s were essentially useless, and I couldn’t exactly show up every night in one of my two dresses.

Sophie looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

Casey, have you ever been to Northampton before? She asked, looking horrified.

I shook my head no.

New England is where fashion goes to die, Sophie said, her voice completely serious. Blake snorted and looked down at the sidewalk, his shoulders shaking. Unless you want a new pair of Birkenstocks, I don’t think we’re going to find you anything here.

I giggled. Sophie was so laid back, it was easy to forget she’d been born and raised in Los Angeles.

Listen, designers send us clothes all the time. We wear them for a little while and then send them back. I have tons of stuff on the bus.

I looked at Sophie, trying not to seem astonished. Are you sure?

Of course, she laughed. Please, I’d much rather dress you myself than have you show up in some tie-dyed caftan from a souvenir shop. Agreed?

I met Blake’s eyes for a moment before I responded, stunned by Sophie’s generosity. He shrugged his shoulders, smiling.

You’d look just fine in Birkenstocks, he said, but even he didn’t sound totally convinced.

Agreed, I laughed.

Good, Sophie seemed pleased. If you still want to go shopping when we get to Chicago, I’ll take you. My aunt and uncle live there, I’m sure they know the cool places.

I only hesitated for a second. When is Chicago?

After Vermont, Blake broke in. The show isn’t until next week, but it’s a twenty hour drive. We’ll be in the bus for a couple of days.

We thought we were getting a show in Montreal, Sophie said, pouting. But it fell through.

Chicago, I thought to myself.

Northampton was only a few hours from where I lived. Even Vermont was familiar territory -- Madison and I had gone to summer camp one year in southern Maine, and we’d passed through Burlington on the way there. But Chicago was a whole separate part of the country.

And Montreal. I didn’t even have a passport. I tried to think about what would have happened if we’d gotten to the Canadian border before anyone thought about whether I could get across. Of course Blake and Sophie and all of them would have passports. Would they just leave me at the border to find my way home?

For a moment, I felt painfully lonely. I wasn’t sure what I was doing here, and it seemed like I had to make up my mind before we started a three day drive halfway across the country.

We should get back, Blake said, pulling me out of my thoughts. He took my hand and pulled me up off the bench. We have to be there for the sound check once they have everything set up. Casey, you don’t have to go, though, he paused, as if thinking about it. If you want, you can keep walking around, just meet us back at the show at six, okay?

I nodded. Do you think-- I paused, feeling awkward for asking for something else after everything Blake and Sophie had already done. If not for them, I’d be under lock and key at my parents house. Could I borrow your phone? I asked Blake. I just want to check in with my parents, make sure they know I’m okay. The lie came out smoothly, as if I half believed it.

No problem. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and tossed it to me. The battery might be low, I didn’t charge it last night, he cautioned. See you at six.

I smiled. Blake Parker, after all. As much as it seemed a little crazy to be basically running away from home, it seemed somehow even crazier that the person encouraging me to do it was Blake Parker.

As he and Sophie waved goodbye, I dialed Madison’s phone number from memory.

Casey, she screamed, literally screamed, as she picked up the phone. Tell me everything. Where are you?

Massachusetts, I giggled, momentarily drawn in by her enthusiasm. Am I crazy? What am I doing here?

Wait, excuse me? she broke in. Blake Parker invited you to come along on a Moving Neutral tour, and you’re having second thoughts? She paused, and then continued, her voice going shrill. Blake. Parker.

Madison was my best friend. She was also the least likely person to ever try to talk me out of going on tour with Moving Neutral.

If I was being totally honest with myself, that’s probably why I had called her. Instead of my parents.

I looked down at my flip flops. I know, I said. He took me out for breakfast this morning.

Madison’s scream deafened me for an instant. Wait, she continued. Has he kissed you? Do I even want to know?

I laughed again. I kissed him, I admitted, filling her in on everything that had happened the night before, surprised at how much better I was beginning to feel.

But Mad, after Vermont, they’re driving to Chicago. It’s not like I can just call you to come pick me up, I said, my voice starting to waver.

So see how you feel after Vermont, she said, as if it were the most obvious choice in the world. If you still like Blake and you’re still having fun, just go. You have a credit card. If you need to buy a plane ticket home, your parents will understand.

I thought about it. She was right. If I needed to go home at some point, my parents wouldn’t mind. And Chicago wasn’t that far away, at least not by plane.

Have you heard anything from my parents? I asked, already dreading the answer.

Madison sighed loudly into the phone, hesitating before she answered. They called my house last night, and my parents said we’d gone to the concert. My mom said they were pretty furious, she continued. I called this morning and told them you were staying with me for the weekend. They seemed to buy it, at least for now. But I don’t know what’s going to happen when they realize you’re not here, she paused. I mean, you are eighteen. I don’t know what they can really do.

I hope, I said. Somehow I wasn’t so sure.

The battery on Blake’s phone blinked at me, and I didn’t want to use it up completely.

I should get going, I said. I’ll call you again soon, okay?

Listen, Casey, she said seriously. Just go with it, okay? When are you ever going to do anything like this again? Don’t stress about your parents or what’s coming next. Just have fun.

It was good advice.

Thanks, I whispered, sad to hang up the phone. You’re the best.

I looked down the street, past the souvenir shops and outdoor cafes. Whatever was coming next, Madison was right. I could at least try my best to enjoy it.

The next day passed in a blur. That night, I watched the concert in Northampton from backstage, learning the roadies names and trying not to make it obvious that I already knew every song by heart. I slept on one of the sofas in the bus in an old tee-shirt and shorts, about the only that thing the clothes I’d packed were good for.

For the festival, I changed into one of Sophie’s tank tops and a pair of denim cutoffs -- Blake warned me that by the end of the day, everything would be covered in dust, one of the hazards of an outdoor show.

When the bus rolled to a stop, Blake put on a baseball cap and April took a cowboy hat out of one of the closets, twisting her unmistakable blonde hair into a bun. I looked to Sophie and Jesse.

No disguises?

Jesse grinned. People sometimes think I’m the guy from Weezer. But no, I don’t get screaming preteens the way Blake does.

Sophie just laughed. No one ever knows what the drummer looks like, she explained. It’s a blessing and a curse.

I thought about how Madison and I had recognized her in an instant.