Allegra (9 page)

I glance at Mom and wonder if this is the moment to remind them that she, too, is a musician, but I decide against it.

After everyone has had a second bowl of chili and the platter of veggies is emptied, Dad asks, “Well, Legs? Is it time?”

“Legs?” Spencer looks at me, puzzled.

I shake my head and roll my eyes. “That's what
he
calls me.” I frown at my dad, who just laughs.

Spencer laughs too. “Because you're a dancer, and your legs are so long?”

“No! It's short for Allegra. A-
lleg
—gra.” I sound the word out slowly, embarrassed by his interpretation. “He started calling me that long before I started dancing.”

“Or grew the long legs,” my dad adds. “C'mon, everyone, time to get started.” He leads the way to the studio.

Spencer follows me down the stairs. He pokes me in the back. “Legs. I like it,” he says.

I just shake my head again.

Talia and the girls squish together on the couch, and I prop myself on its wide arm. Spencer sits on the floor, leaning against a wall.

The band members consult with Dad and decide to warm up with some of their oldies. “Any requests?” Dad asks Spencer.

“‘It's a Day For Dancing,'” he says, without hesitation.

Dad smiles, switches guitars and counts off the beat. In a united motion, each musician plays the opening chord, the drummer hits the drums, and the rehearsal begins.

Spencer's face breaks into a huge grin. His foot taps along, and when the band gets to the chorus, I hear the girls joining in. It's a lively song, and the musicians are relaxing as they warm up. When the song ends, they move immediately into the next one. John, on fiddle, really gets going. The girls begin bouncing on the old couch. Christopher puts his guitar down and reaches for Molly's hand, pulling her off the couch. She doesn't resist and begins dancing to the steady beat. Talia and Sophie leap up and join in; then Spencer grabs my hand, and suddenly we're all bouncing together in the tiny space. Christopher picks up his guitar again, and I feel like I'm at a party. My first.

When that song is done, they slow it down a little. The girls return to the couch, and I sit beside Spencer on the floor. He leans his shoulder into mine, and I feel all the tension that has built up over the previous days simply melt away. The song is fairly new, and the musicians stop and start, trying to get it right. There's a discussion among them about which rhythm pattern should be used. They can't agree, so Dad turns to Spencer and asks his opinion.

“I like the first version,” he says.

“Why?”

“The tempo's a bit faster…it fits better.”

Dad nods. “Let's try that one again.”

They continue working on new pieces for the next forty-five minutes, and then Dad turns to Spencer again. “Do you play the keyboard?”

Spencer nods.

“Wanna sit in?”

Spencer jumps to his feet while Brian, the keyboard player, slides off the bench to let Spencer take over. Brian picks up another guitar and strums a chord.

“What song?” Dad asks.

“‘Found My Way,'” Spencer says. He bangs out the first couple of bars, then the band joins in, and a moment later the girls are off the couch again, dancing. I watch Spencer, impressed by how well he plays the song. He truly is a fan. And good on the keyboard.

When the song ends, the musicians applaud Spencer. “Keep it up, kid,” Steve says, “and we may find a spot in the band for you.”

Dad and I exchange a glance, but I quickly look away. I wonder how hard it will be to replace him when he stops touring.

The rest of the rehearsal becomes more of a jam session, with each of the girls choosing rhythm instruments and playing along. That's something I've noticed about the students at the performing-arts school: they're not shy about joining in. I sit beside Spencer on the piano bench and we take turns, improvising when we don't know the notes. The band chooses Loose Ends' biggest hits, and we put our hearts into it, my shyness from dinner completely gone.

Finally Dad calls for a break. We clomp up the stairs and into the kitchen, where Mom has left a platter of brownies on the counter. They disappear quickly, and I drop slices of lemon into a pitcher of ice water before pouring it into glasses.

“That was so awesome,” Spencer says, nodding. His eyes are shining and his cheeks are flushed.

Dad smiles at him. “Glad you enjoyed it. You're a fine musician yourself.”

Spencer's cheeks flush even redder. “Thanks. I can't actually believe I was just playing with the Loose Ends.” He shakes his head. “I was so shocked when we were playing two truths and a lie at school and Allegra said that her dad was in this band. I thought for sure it had to be a lie.” He looks at me and we both laugh.

“Okay, guys, party's over,” Steve tells the group. “We need to meet and go over some details for the tour. Back to the dungeon.”

The girls and Spencer all thank the band again.

“I'd love to see your autograph collection sometime,” Dad says to Spencer as he follows Steve out of the room.

“Sounds good,” Spencer calls to his back, obviously pleased.

Talia slides into her jacket. “That was so much fun.” Effortlessly she reaches out and pulls me into a big hug. Molly does the same, followed by Sophie. When it's Spencer's turn, he follows the hug with a kiss on my cheek. They tumble out the door, chatting all the way to the curb, where the Volvo is idling.

Stepping back into the house, I smile to myself. The evening was perfect. Maybe I'm finally ready to “do” friends.

At school on Tuesday, Mr. Rocchelli suggests I work in the sound room while he teaches the rest of the class. “Do you have everything you need?” he asks.

I pull the flash drive from my pack. “It's all on here,” I tell him, “but I don't really know much about how to operate this equipment yet.”

“Hmm,” he says. “I forgot about that.” He studies me for a moment. “How about you help me out with the class today; then we'll meet at lunchtime and I'll start tutoring you on the composition program we use.”

I don't mind at all. I'm still on a natural high from the rehearsal last night, and I can see Spencer watching us from the side of the classroom. “Sounds good.”

Spencer smiles when he sees me approaching the circle of chairs. “You're with us today,
Legs
?” he asks.

I punch him lightly. “It's Allegra to you, buddy. And yes, I am.”

“Why can't I call you Legs? I like it.”

I shrug. I don't know, really. It's just that it's always been my dad's nickname for me, no one else's, not even Mom's. It's his way of being affectionate. Yet I have to admit, it sounds completely different coming from Spencer, and not in a bad way.

“Whatever. You can call me anything you want.”

“Thanks, Legs,” he says.

My cheeks feel warm as I sit down beside him.

“And thanks again for last night,” he says. “That was totally amazing.”

“You're welcome. Let's do it again before they leave on tour.”

“I still can't believe they asked me to play with them!” He shakes his head. “I thought I'd just be watching.”

I look up and see Julia entering the room. Her eyes zero in on Spencer, and she does a double take when she notices me beside him. She takes the chair on his other side. “I didn't think you were taking the class with us,” she says, leaning across him to talk to me.

“I won't be, usually, but I am today.”

“Oh.” She doesn't look happy. “Are we still going to be partners?” she asks Spencer.

He glances at me and shrugs. “I guess,” he says. “Whatever.”

The rest of the class trickles in, and Mr. Rocchelli joins us in the circle. “We're going to warm up this morning by continuing our work with ear training and music intervals. I've asked Allegra to help me, as she has already mastered it. We're going to circulate and help out where we can. Any questions?”

“Should we stay in the same pairs as last time?” Julia asks.

“That's up to you,” he says. He glances at Spencer, who is picking at a hangnail. “Though it's always good to switch it up too. Move about and use any of the instruments. Remember, well-trained ears are essential for all musicians.”

Spencer doesn't stand a chance. The moment Mr. Rocchelli is finished speaking, Julia says, “Spencer, let's use a xylophone today instead of the piano. C'mon.”

I smile sympathetically as he gets up to follow her across the room. He looks back at me but just shrugs and shakes his head. I know he doesn't like her, but he must be too kind to do anything about it. I'm not sure I'd be so nice.

I join the two students nearest me, who are using a keyboard. They glance at me but continue working. I just listen in and don't offer any suggestions. It suddenly feels really odd to be in this position. I wish I hadn't agreed to help.

After about ten minutes, in which I do nothing but watch, Mr. Rocchelli asks the students to return to the circle. He's moved the chairs so that they are all facing a portable whiteboard.

“Great,” he says, when everyone is seated. “I heard some really awesome stuff going on. How about you, Allegra?”

I just nod.

“So let's continue our work on transposition—changing a piece of music from one key to another. What is the most important thing to remember when we are transposing?”

My mind wanders as the lesson continues. I watch as Mr. Rocchelli draws responses from his students. He does it in such a way that if they make a mistake, they still feel okay about it. “That's not quite right, Zoe, but you'd be absolutely correct if we were working in a minor key.” “You're so close, Conner. Want to give it another try?”

Spencer answers a question correctly, and Mr. Rocchelli praises him. My mind wanders back to last night. I remember how his shoulder pressed against mine while we listened to the music. I hadn't felt panicky at all, just completely comfortable. Spencer sees me studying him and smiles. I smile back, then look away. Where has the easiness from last night gone?

Mr. Rocchelli hands out sheets of music. The students are to transpose them into the key indicated at the top of the page. Each student receives a different sheet. They spread out around the room, most of them using music stands to write on.

I walk around, feeling totally self-conscious about my role as teacher-helper. Why did I agree to do this? It won't happen again. I try to avoid Spencer—I feel especially awkward about helping him—but eventually I find myself near the table he is working at. I pull up a chair and look at his work. He's finished, and his transposition is flawless.

“Looks like you know what you're doing,” I whisper.

“I do,” he admits.

“Maybe you could challenge the course too,” I suggest. “You could help me with my project. A team effort.”

“I'd like that,” he whispers. “But I'm afraid there's still a lot of stuff I don't know.”

“I'll tutor you,” I say.

He just smiles and looks away. Then a funny expression crosses his face. I follow his gaze to see what he's looking at. It's Julia, and she is clearly unhappy to see us talking together. I won't be a bit surprised if she accuses me of doing Spencer's work for him. I get up and wander around the room some more, being especially careful to avoid Julia.

Eventually Mr. Rocchelli collects the assignments, and then he sits at the piano. “Call out the name of the scale I'm playing,” he says.

For the last fifteen minutes of class, I watch as he challenges the students to name harder and harder scales and chords. He makes it fun. I find my gaze constantly returning to Spencer, but I quickly look away if he glances at me.

As agreed, I meet Mr. Rocchelli back in the portable at lunchtime. I follow him into the sound room, and once again I'm aware of how tiny it is and how close we have to be to work together.