Shrinking Violet (15 page)

Is Betty Crocker serious?

"Thanks," Gavin and I both say.

I wait for Gavin and Kayla to reach for the appetizers before I take a few. Mom says that no matter how hungry you are, you should never be the first one to attack the food tray at a party. I

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would hardly call this a party, but I don't want Gavin to think of me as a pig. Of course, that doesn't stop me from diving in for seconds.

After we're done eating, Kayla makes us do another run-through of the presentation.

She stops us a couple of times, to tell Gavin to slow down on the strumming and for me to make better eye contact, which is kind of stupid since Helen couldn't
make
eye contact.

We're almost done practicing when Kayla's freshman brother bursts into the room.

"What is it, Wizard?" She crosses her arms and glares at him.

He's panting. "They just fired the freshman football coach for bad-mouthing the administration and lying about it."

"What a loser!" Kayla says.

"It's about time!" Gavin hisses.

"Why?" I ask. Since when does the guy that skips prom and doodles skulls on his folder care about the football coach? "He had it coming," Gavin says.

Kayla's brother scrunches his eyebrows together. "He did?"

"The guy's a liar." Gavin clenches his fist. "I can't stand people that skate the truth like it's no big deal."

My internal temperature drops until I feel like a human icicle. You hate lies? What about secret identities?

Kayla shoos her brother out of the room. But neither of us moves, the fumes from Gavin still simmering.

Finally Kayla says, "Are you on the team?"

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"Was. Freshman year." Gavin picks up his guitar. "And?" Kayla prods.

Gavin strums louder. "Nothing I want to talk about."

For once Kayla doesn't say anything else. Instead, we both watch Gavin play the guitar.

He's sexy when he's mad. His hair strikes his cheek as he bobs his head up and down.

His eyes are intense, focused on the guitar. I picture him up onstage strumming his guts out to a crowded room filled with screaming fans. I'm mesmerized.

I finally glance over at Kayla's huge kitchen clock. Oh great, Derek's going to kill me. I wish I didn't have to leave. If I could ditch Derek's gig and focus on
The Love Shack,
I'd have more time. But I made a three-month commitment and I don't want him to use it against me. Who knows what scheme he could come up with to publicly humiliate m«? I shudder just thinking about it. Time for another fabrication. "I'm late. My aunt's coming for dinner." I stand up and grab my backpack.

Gavin sets down his guitar. "No problem. Give me your number and I'll call you later in case Kayla makes any more changes to torture us."

"Really? That's so nice," I say.

Gavin plugs my digits into his cell.

Kayla stares at us.

"What?" I can't help but ask.

"Oh, nothing, you just seem like brother and sister. It's cute." Kayla smiles.

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Damn, crush my heart with a two-ton boulder. Brother and sister. Not cute. Red-hot lovers, much cuter.

I zip open my backpack and take out the Shrinking Violet mix that I burned for Gavin. "I almost forgot. For you."

"Thanks." Gavin smiles. "This is great."

I don't wait for him or Kayla to say anything else--I just rush out the door. When I'm halfway to the bus, I realize Gavin has my number programmed into his phone! Of course, he might never call, but for good luck I pull out my cell and kiss it. It hasn't rung for two days. The only numbers I have stored in it are Mom's, Rob's, Audrey's, and Domino's. I know, lame.

Gavin, not lame.

I overheard Rob talking on his BlackBerry last night about the SLAM power lunch where all the "heads" get together to strategize. That's when they come up with their promotions, giveaways, and crazy stunts to attract more attention. I know they had the big meeting today. I don't know if they can top last year's scheme to boost ratings, though. Garrison dressed up as an old lady and tried to sneak into a Juice Box concert.

What makes it even funnier is that he's six foot four and has a goatee.

Derek's clicking away on the laptop when I slip into the studio. I didn't even know he could write. "Thought you ditched," he says over his shoulder.

Tried to. "Sorry, had a school project to work on." I plunk into the chair.

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Derek goes on-air for a quick station ID, then resumes typing.

I just sit there like a stuffed elephant. I know I wanted as little contact with him as possible, but this is really awkward. "Where's Jason?"

"I told him he could come in late since he's been working so hard on his show."

This puts me on high alert, and I scoot my chair back in case he wants to try anything.

But a second later, Paul, another producer, comes in with coffee. He stays to chat for a few minutes, then leaves to run some copies for Derek.

"Need me to go through the commercials?" I ask.

"Nah, it's been done. I'm doing a teaser for your show in the next break, so I want you to give a quick shout-out."

"Thanks." I nod. Wish Jason was here, but I can handle it. I shouldn't complain, at least Derek's chatting up our show.

"Hey, all you studs out there," Derek says into the mike. "Have I got a surprise for you!

Now I'm not talking about you old dudes, this shout-out goes to all the high school guys. Thinking about prom, but don't have a date? Or just want to show up with a really hot chick? Well, if you're musical, I've got the ultimate SLAM contest for you. There's a megahottie in the studio here and she's dateless for the prom . ."

Where? I look around.

He turns to face me for a quick second and flashes all his teeth. I cringe. "It's none other than SLAM's own teen DJ, Sweet T." No, he didn't. This nightmare can't be happening to me. I'm

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suddenly queasy. "So if you'd like to escort her to her prom, record your own love song and send it to us here at the station," Derek continues. "Vocals have to be sung and written by you. You can catch all the rules that I just finished uploading on our Web site.

Dude, if I was only a few years younger. . " A few? Try twenty! "The winner also receives a free tux from Alan's Formalwear, Hummer limo escort to and from the prom courtesy of Drive In Style and three hundred dollars spending cash. And the best part: your song will be played on the radio! So good luck!" He motions for me to step up to the mike.

I try to move, but I'm frozen. If I take one step, I might crumple into tiny little pieces.

Derek pulls me by the arm.

"Ouch." I wince.

"So, do you have your dress yet, T?" he says into the mike. "No, not yet." I try my hardest not to sound like someone on her deathbed.

"I'm sure she'll tell you all about the slinky number coming up on
The Love Shack
tonight at seven." He brings up a Mintpaste tune and shuts off the mike.

So basically someone pockets some cash and is driven around in style just to escort me to the prom. This is definitely a scheme my mother would've come up with if only she were smart enough.

This contest has got to be illegal. "I don't think Rob will go for it." I stand up again even though I'm still trembling from head to toe.

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"Not to worry, I ran it by him this morning. He loves the idea." Derek yanks the gold chain around his neck. "He does?"

"Look at the phone lines already. They're ringing off the hook. People eat this stuff up, T."

"Didn't you even consider consulting with me before you offered away my life?" My legs start to give way and I slump back down into the chair. What did I do to deserve this humiliation?

"For a sec. But I knew you'd totally be up for it. This is your chance. You never know who might submit a killer song." Derek pops the plastic lid to his coffee and downs half of it.

"That's exactly what I'm worried about. It could be some total freak, ax murderer."

"I have a friend on the force. I'll have him run background checks on all the finalists." He picks up one of the phone lines and tells the caller to check out everything on the Web site.

I need access to the Internet and fast. Maybe I can erase the whole thing and pretend that it never happened.

Derek picks up the phone again and repeats the same line about accessing all the rules.

If I could roll into a ball and die, I would. I can't go through with this, and now I'm totally trapped if Rob's already in love with the idea. Maybe I can come up with a different scenario that would involve me being shipped away to a tiny island only accessible by canoe.

"Don't worry, Tere, you'll have fun, and think of the exposure." Derek grins.

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My stomach whirs like a dishwasher short-circuiting and I motor to the bathroom. I reach the toilet just in time and watch my dinner flush down the bowl with my life. How can I go through with this? I know the listeners don't know it's me, but once they find out, I'll be an even bigger loser than I already am. I'll have to wear a full armor suit to school to protect me from the wounds.

The bathroom door busts open and I hear someone calling my name. "Tere, are you in there?"

"Go away," I moan.

"It's me. Kelly. Are you okay?" She knocks lightly on the stall door. "No."

"The calls are coming in like crazy. You are
so
popular." I open the stall door a few inches. "What are you talking about?"

"You've got tons of guys that want to go to prom with you. You'll just have to pick the one with the best song."

"But they don't even know me." I lower the lid and sit down.

"Well, they love your voice, so that's a start." She sounds like my school guidance counselor fishing for my good qualities to put in my college recommendation.

"Until they see me."

"It'll be great. I swear." She pulls the stall door open all the way and leans down to give me a hug. I hope I don't smell like puke. She squeezes tight.

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No one's ever hugged me like that before. It felt good, even if it came with inflatable boobs.

"I'll be here if you need anything." Kelly smiles.

"I hope you own a body bag." I pry myself off the seat and shuffle over to the sink to splash some water on my face and rinse out my mouth. I turn the water on full blast and when I'm done splashing, my white PJ Squid tee is soaked. Great, now I'm rewarding Derek for being an ass with a free titty show.

Kelly catches on immediately and runs out to snag me a SLAM tee to throw on instead. I never thought she'd be the one to save the day. Boy, was I wrong. Without her, I would've spent the night in the bathroom.

When I'm back in the studio, Derek hands me a printout of the contest rules. I read down the list. The song has to be an original, the guy must be in high school, and it says the tune has to be under three minutes. Also, the person can't have a recording contract. Great, that rules out Lil' Ray and the two youngest hotties from Speed Bump.

At least that would've made it worth it. Everything is done anonymously, and I select the winner. Well, at least I get to do something. Then I read down to the end. "What?" I shriek. "I can't meet the guy until prom?"

"I added that part in last minute, made the station's lawyer scramble like crazy. Brilliant, eh?" Derek taps himself on the chest. "People love suspense. And that way the cameras will be rolling and we'll be able to broadcast live on the Internet. It'll really up our Web presence."

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And send me back to my room. Forever. "What if the winner hates me?" I say to my sneaks.

"Then just give him what he wants and he'll forget what you look like." Derek laughs.

Why do I even bother talking to him like he's a human being?

I refuse to answer the phones for the rest of the show. I'm trying to let this all sink in, to see the bright side, if possible. At least I'll be going to the prom and who knows? The guy could actually be hot. All expense paid is pretty cool, and maybe this will get Mom off my back. She should be happy, now that she has an excuse to chaperone.

The part that freaks me out the most is that this is totally going to blow my cover. I like being the
mystery
woman. I don't know what to do. Wear a disguise to the prom? But how long could I keep that up? Knowing me, my wig would come flying off when I was attempting to dance or something.

"Hey, Derek." I come out of my coma. "My principal will never agree. She's a stiff."

"I've got Ms. Cuniff by the--" Derek reaches for his balls but stops short. "She said district approval was no problem. The winner has to be a student registered in Miami-Dade County. And we're only going to reveal which school you go to, live, at the prom. When students are buzzing about the contest, they won't know you're among them. So there should be no distraction from learning at Ridgeland." He laughs.

"Besides, we're making a donation to the school."

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Figures.

"But how are we going to keep this a secret from everyone? If one person finds out . ." I tap my nails on the console.

"Trust me, the whole thing is under wraps. It'll be awesome."

Teresa Adams sold to the highest bidder, Ms. Cuniff. I never thought I'd go down like this. Three weeks until prom. God, it's going to be a long three weeks.

Every time someone calls about the contest, Derek gives me a synopsis of the conversation. One guy wants to know if I like songs about roses, another wants to know if I have a thing for role-playing. Most just want SLAM to post a photo of me on the Web.

I go on the air a few times with Jason, but mostly I'm trying to let the plan to ruin my life sink in. Jason assures me that the exposure will be good for my career.