Moving Neutral (25 page)

Derek flipped his cell phone open again, and Jesse did the same. The both dialed April’s number, and then flipped them closed a second later.

She turned it off, Jesse said, sounding incredulous. It’s not even ringing.

Maybe she’s in a tunnel, I said, feeling like my excuses were getting more and more far-fetched.

And since when did I make excuses for April?

We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the hum of people outside waiting for the show to start. I thought about how disappointed they would be if the band ended up cancelling. Each second seemed to drag by as we waited, everyone still trying to hope for the best.

I guess we have to just call it off, Derek said when the clock hit eight twenty and April still hadn’t arrived or called.

Can we do the show without her? Blake asked, looking to Derek hopefully. Tim Reynolds does it -- maybe people would be okay with just listening to the music.

Derek looked at him with a doubtful expression. People know what they’re getting into when they buy tickets for instrumental shows. People go to the symphony too, but not when they expect to see Coldplay.

So let a few of them leave, Blake said. The ones who want to stay can stay. Not everybody comes to our shows just to see April.

Sophie was looking down at her hands, curled up on the couch with a pillow across her chest. Maybe we could find someone else to fill in, she said, her voice sounding small and hesitant.

Right, Jesse said sarcastically. I’ll call Miley Cyrus. I hear she’s been begging to do an acoustic show with us, for three dozen people.

No one said anything for a minute, listening to Blake strum on his guitar, drowning out the noise from the rows of people waiting for the concert to begin.

I’ll go out and tell them at eight forty five, Derek said. We can reschedule it, I guess, if you guys are going to be in L.A. for a while. We’ll just table the DVD thing for now.

We sat in silence for a moment, and I looked from the clock to Blake’s disappointed face, wishing there was something I could do.

What about Casey? Sophie said it in such a timid voice that I almost didn’t hear her, and stared at her without understanding what she meant.

What about me? My words seemed to echo in the suddenly silent room. Derek was staring at me, a horrified look sweeping across his face, and Jesse wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Blake, on the other hand, broke into a grin, looking enthusiastic for the first time since he’d heard about April not showing up. That’s a great idea, he said, standing up and facing Derek. Casey can sing.

I felt my knees start to shake.

Derek looked as if Blake had just told him that he was going to star in a remake of the Golden Girls. He looked at me like he was trying not to hurt my feelings. You guys, that’s not going to work.

Blake, come on, Jesse said. We can’t just send her out onstage instead of April. No offense, he said to me as an afterthought.

What’s the harm in it, if we’re just going to cancel anyways? Sophie looked at me encouragingly.

Derek had gotten over his shock and turned serious again. You guys, this is not an option. I’m telling you right now, it will not be good for Moving Neutral if Casey takes April’s place tonight. You’ve gotten enough bad press over the last few weeks, this would just add fuel to the fire.

We sat in silence for a moment, and then everyone looked at me, as if they were expecting me to do something. I just looked back at them, trying to think of some way out of this, trying not to be the subject of yet another fight between the members of my favorite band.

Do you know all the songs? Blake asked me, ignoring what Derek had just said.

Since I was fifteen, I thought to myself. I nodded.

I want her to do it, Blake said, looking determined. I’m not cancelling.

Derek shook his head, looking at Blake like he was being an unruly kid. They’re not going to release a Moving Neutral DVD without April, you know that.

Right, Blake said, his voice thick with sarcasm. And if there’s no DVD, there’s no point in doing the show, I guess?

Derek looked at him, obviously annoyed. You know, Blake, you could adjust your attitude a little. You know what happens to rock stars who start whining about selling out? He didn’t wait for Blake to answer. They get forgotten.

Blake opened his mouth to respond, and I jumped in before he could.

Maybe we can wait till eight forty-five, like you said, I suggested. If April isn’t here, then we can decide what to do.

Blake and Derek stared at each other for a moment, and then Blake gave a quick, tense nod, and Derek sat down on one of the couches. I tried to be excited, but it was obvious that everyone except Blake was reluctant to have me fill in. I didn’t want to let them down, but in no universe did I imagine that I could take April’s place at a Moving Neutral concert without the night ending in a complete disaster.

Sophie distracted me by grabbing my hand and dragging me back toward one of the dressing rooms. Come on, she said. I only have twenty minutes to make you as hot as April.

There isn’t enough makeup in the whole entire city, I said under my breath, but followed her anyway.

Time felt like it started moving faster the moment Sophie sat me down in April’s makeup chair. She told the stylist to straighten my hair, taking a brush herself and applying powder after powder to accent various parts of my face.

Fifteen minutes later, she put down a tube of mascara and blinked at me.

Not bad, she took a step back, pulling a lock of hair up and then letting it fall. There’s still a crease -- did you have to wear a ponytail?

It’s not like I planned this, Soph.

I know, she interrupted, smiling. Relax -- come on, April does this every night, how hard can it be?

I tried to smile back.

Besides, you look great, she said, looking at me happily. Wait till Blake sees you. Geez, Case -- you should wear makeup more often.

When we walked back into the green room, Jesse and Derek sat huddled on one of the couches, probably calling April over and over again, knowing it was no use. It was almost nine, and she still hadn’t answered her phone.

Come on, Sophie said. It’s time.

Derek just stared at us, shaking his head. This isn’t going to work -- you know that, right? You can’t just swap out the lead singer and expect the audience not to care. He looked at me directly, as if I was the one to reason with. You’re not going to be happy when they start walking out.

We’ll see about that, Blake said, squeezing my hand in encouragement. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Derek was absolutely right. Maybe Blake didn’t care if this turned out to be totally humiliating -- he was used to thousands of people chanting his name at the end of every show, mobs of teenage girls waiting for his autograph. But none of the fans out there were here to see me, and I couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing than standing up onstage and having the entire audience pack up and go home the second they saw me.

It’s not Casey’s fault if they walk out, Sophie said. I figured she was trying to give me some encouragement, but it wasn’t a particularly reassuring way to phrase it.

I’m sorry guys, but I’m not going to be part of this, Derek said, opening the green room door. It’s your choice, but you’re making a mistake.

I felt his words ring in my ears, horrified by how reasonable he sounded.

Jesse? Blake said it quietly, looking at where Jesse was sitting, still on the couch, clutching his cell phone in front of him.

He looked from Blake to me, and then back again, his eyes flicking left and right as he seemed to make up his mind.

Fine, he said, standing up at the last possible instant. It’s not like you can go onstage without me. I mean, that is-- he looked at me with a wry smile. Casey doesn’t play bass, does she?

I laughed, despite myself, forgetting for a second that I was about to do the most ridiculous thing I could imagine.

Sophie took my hand as we walked toward the stage, and each step felt like my shoes were getting heavier. I looked out past the curtains at the audience, antsy from waiting almost an hour in their seats, and tried to stop my heart from racing.

The crowd started to cheer as Sophie and Jesse walked out onto the stage, but Blake took my hand, holding me back for a moment.

You’re going to do great, he said. I tried to believe him. I have a surprise for you.

What is it? My voice wavered, and I felt another rush of panic hit me. What if my voice trembled so much I couldn’t sing? April hated these shows because her voice never sounded good, I remembered Derek telling me. If April’s voice didn’t sound great, then what would I sound like?

Not telling, Blake said, giving me a half smile. He glanced at me and, as if noticing how terrified I was for the first time, he took my face in his hands, kissing me softly and then pausing for a moment.

Looking into his eyes, he didn’t look nervous in the slightest. He grinned down at me so intently that it felt like the crowd and Derek and April and all my fears began to melt away, and I forgot about what we were about to do and whether or not I could do it.

For that moment, I was just staring into the cool blue eyes of Blake Parker, the most handsome guy I’d ever met.

And then we walked out onstage.

When I was a kid, I used to have the nightmare, the one that everyone probably has at some point, about being onstage in a play and not knowing your lines. But somehow the play always turned out okay -- I could make up lines that worked just as well, or remember them as I went along without anyone catching on. It wasn’t even really a nightmare -- more like the kind of dream where you think you’re falling, and then you learn to fly.

Standing up on stage for real was a bit different.

I wondered if the microphone could pick up my heart pounding as I walked up to the stool that April used for the acoustic shows -- a stool that was about six inches too tall for me to comfortably sit down on, so I perched on the edge, trying not to feel awkward.

I could hear murmurs spread through the crowd, and I tried to focus on breathing in and out, not thinking about what was coming next. Usually the lighting for the shows was so blinding that you could barely see the audience at all, but this was a small show and there were just a few spotlights on the stage. Looking out across the rows, I could make out every face.

Madison said that picturing the audience in their underwear was just distracting, and frankly, it seemed like a lot of detail for me to try to imagine when I was supposed to be concentrating on singing and rhythm and not fainting.

The crowd seemed to register my presence with confusion, and I heard people talking, wondering who I was, what I was doing there. I wished I had something to say to them, but I was still trying to figure that out myself.

Where’s April? I heard a voice call out from the back of the audience. I felt the color drain from my face as I squinted out, wondering what to do next.

Biting my lip to calm my nerves, I turned and looked at Blake. I took a deep breath and smiled at him, because really, if he believed in me, then maybe I could actually do it. Maybe.

April couldn’t make it, he said into his microphone. This is Casey Snow.

I looked out at the audience, and at that same moment, Blake started the first song. I took a deep breath, and started to sing.

I saw someone get up to leave as I began the song, and even worse, I heard it -- the shuffles and mumbled excuse me of someone abandoning the whole show when they realized that I was here instead of April. I wanted to close my eyes, wishing there was somewhere in the audience I could look, some friendly face that was here for me, just me. I wished more than anything that Brett, at least, had been able to come.

Looking out at the audience wasn’t doing me any good, I realized. I got off the stool and walked back a few steps, until I could see Sophie out of the corner of my eye. She was grinning at me, barely paying attention to the drums as she played the rhythm for a song she knew by heart. Mouthing the lyrics to the first song as I sang them, she stuck her tongue out at me playfully, and I felt some of the tension leave my voice.

As we made it to the chorus, the murmurs from the audience died down -- they had decided, at least, to give me a chance. I looked back at Blake and tried to smile, running a hand through my hair as I sang the lyrics -- his lyrics -- with all the emotion and strength that I could muster.

I knew I couldn’t sing the same way that April did, so I just sang the way I would if no one were listening, like I was driving my beat up Volvo on my way to Prospect and a Moving Neutral song came on the radio.

The song ended, and I paused for a second to see if anyone else was getting up. I blinked out at the audience, their faces partly glowing in the light from the stage. No one seemed to be moving.

Thanks, guys, I said into the mic, looking down at the faces in the front row. One girl who looked about my age was smiling, and I tried to focus on her face as I sat back down on April’s stool.

April usually talked to the audience between songs, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember a thing she usually said. Turning around on the stage, I introduced Blake, Jesse and Sophie, and then paused. It was the part where April would usually say, and we’re Moving Neutral.