Capture the Wind for Me (18 page)

One day they met a nightclub owner who knew someone who knew someone in Europe. The man made some phone calls. Months passed. Then the band was invited to send a tape of their music. After hours of practice and retake after retake, they sent the tape with much fear and trembling. More weeks passed. A month. Two months. Finally a phone call came. Could they travel to Europe? No guarantees, nothing paid. But they faced the chance of a lifetime—an audience with a real agent.

Greg's father wouldn't let him go. He was too young. His mother interceded, saying she would go with the band. Watch Greg every minute. His father relented.

Their audition proved a success. The boys could hardly believe it. Their heads spun with thoughts of making it big.

“We don't know how hard it will be,” Greg said. “Even if I do I still would do it. I have the dream for so long. No one can take it away.”

They had talent, their new agent told them. But their music was all wrong. They needed more of a pop sound. And if they intended to make it in America, they had to sing in English. Plus they needed a name that would appeal to young girls.

Back in Greece, they worked night and day around school. Greg and Demetri tried and tried to write new songs. They worked on harmony, dance steps. They practiced until their patience wore thin. They argued about lyrics, stomped around and kicked walls in their frustration, quit three dozen times. After months of work and very little guidance from their agent, whom they'd come to realize was small-time, they had three songs. These they taped and sent to their agent. He said they had “raw potential.” In other words, try again.

The other three band members quit. For the last time, they said. Greg paced his room, tunes and snatches of lyrics running through his mind. He'd fall asleep to the music in his head, wake up to it. The band members drifted back, unable to let go of their dream. They worked for another three months, and finally taped four new songs.

One of them was “Hung Up on You.”

“It is not like you hear on the radio,” Greg said. “Lots of things have to be added. Like the seventh chords. Make it more interesting. It's much better now.”

Greg and his friends were finally finding their sound. They wrote more songs and settled on a name. Eight months ago LuvRush traveled to Europe to cut their first CD. Greg's mother went along to supervise.

I laughed at that. Greg, with his picture in my magazine. A new star. And his mama looking over his shoulder all the time. Who would ever guess?

LuvRush signed with a manager. Their CD was a hit first in Europe, then it jumped to the States. “Hung Up on You” made it to number five on the American charts.

“So we are here. We are in America for six weeks, practicing. Mamma is with me. She goes back to Greece when Celia comes to bring me here. She does not like to be away from Baba that long. Baba says she has to go on tour with me.” He laughed. “She does not want to go. I am glad to say Danny helps change his mind.”

“Wow, all that's amazing,” I gushed. “You've worked so hard. But what do you do about school now?”

“I have studies I do and send to Greece. Lysander and Demetri and Alex—they are fortunate to be out of school. I have much work to do this week.”

“What's it—” Someone knocked on my door. “Just a minute.” I cupped my hand over the mouthpiece. “What?”

Daddy stuck his head in. “Half hour's up.”

I checked my clock radio and sighed. “Okay.”

“Sorry,” I said to Greg, “I have to go.”

“Oh.” He hesitated. “I can see you tomorrow? After school?”

My heart leapt at the thought. “I have to take care of my brother and sister. But let me see what I can work out. I'll call you when I get home.”

“Good. And, Jackie?”
Tsoky.
My name would never sound the same to me again. “I want to say—I'm glad I meet you today.”

My eyes drifted to his picture. This had to be a dream. Any moment I would wake up. “I'm glad I met you too.”

I hung up the phone and pushed to my feet, half surprised to feel the solid reality of the floor beneath me.

chapter 19

A
ll right, out with it,” Millicent demanded as she plunked down her lunch tray. “I've been waitin' all morning to hear, and so has everybody else.”

True, thanks to her big mouth. I scooted my chair up to the table, flicking a sideways glance at Alison. She'd kept her promise and hadn't said a word. She was doing her best to feign dying-to-know interest along with the rest of my friends but couldn't begin to match their animation. Across the table Millicent stared at me almost accusingly. With a prim flick of her wrist, she opened out a paper napkin and placed it in her lap. Nicole blinked at me through her bangs, fingers dangling a bite of bread. Cherise mixed her corn and mashed potatoes with a vengeance.

“Yes, do tell,” Cherise said, eyes on her food. “I heard he's really hot.”

“Is he from Albertsville?” The bread disappeared into Nicole's mouth.

“No.” I took a nonchalant sip of water. Truly it would be a miracle if I could keep Greg's identity a secret. The adults who knew would keep quiet for the Matthews' sake. Celia's parents certainly didn't need every local female between twelve and eighteen banging on their door. As for my sister and brother, I'd threatened them with death if they told. Robert caused me little worry; he couldn't understand what the big deal was anyway. But Clarissa—I didn't trust her one teeny bit. I could just see her now, bragging to a friend.

All I could do was stall things for a while and hope for the best.

“He's from Greece.” I picked up my fork.

“Greece!” Nicole and Cherise echoed as one, then proceeded to volley me with questions.

Millicent held up her dainty hands. “Girls. How is she supposed to say a word with all your yakkin'?” She waited for quiet, then turned one hand palm up, as if to give me the floor.

I told my friends as succinctly as possible about Greg's relation to the Matthews and Kings.

“That's why you got him first—Katherine told you.” Cherise eyed me askance. “You gonna see him again?”

Wouldn't she like to know. Matter of fact, I'd scored a major coup with Daddy the previous night. I asked him, with Katherine still around, if Greg could join us for supper the following evening. At first Daddy said no. Surprise, surprise. I'd cast a pleading look at Katherine. She turned her gaze purposely out the back window, as if to say,
I'm staying out of this one.

“Please, Daddy?” I begged. “What could it hurt? Seems to me you'd want to meet him.”

The irony of the situation was not lost on me. Hadn't it been mere weeks ago that Daddy had come to me with a similar question?

“This is way different than when you asked me if Katherine could come,” I declared, “'cause you knew I'd have to cook for her. But I'm not askin' you to do a thing.”

Katherine's lips twitched. She pressed them together and remained silent.

“Let him come, Daddy,” my sister said.

“Clarissa, this is not your business.” Daddy eyed me straight on. No question he saw right through my tactics of so innocently mentioning Katherine. Well, so what? Fair was only fair. Meaningfully, I looked from him to her and back again. There he sat with his new love. The one for whom I'd cooked a special supper. Now he was trying to say no to me?

He cupped his jaw with fingers and thumb. Rocked his knee back and forth.

“Come on, Katherine,” I appealed, “say something.”

“Don't put her in a position between you and me,” Daddy countered.

Katherine remained silent. But she did lean forward to give him a very pointed look.

“Oh, for heaven's sake.” He raised his hands, palms up. “Two against one's not fair.”

“Three against one, Daddy.” Clarissa folded her arms.

Daddy surveyed the ceiling. He knew when he'd been bested. “All right, Jackie,” he said wearily. “He can come.”

“Hello.” Nicole rapped the table, making me jump. “Earth to Jackie. I asked like what does he do in Greece?”

Good grief. Talk about twenty questions. “Like what would any boy do in Greece, Nicole? Go to school.”

“Oh, listen to you.” Millicent raised her chin. “Miss Sarcasm.”

“Sorry. But there's really not much to tell.”

“I think there's a great deal to tell,” she drawled. “Or you wouldn't be so possessive about the whole thing.”

“I'm not bein' possessive.”

“Yes, you are. If you went out with a guy from here, you'd be gab-bin' our heads off about now. Didn't I tell when I went out with Randy? Didn't Alison tell when she started goin' out with Jason?”

“That's different.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because . . . well, for one thing I didn't ‘go out' with him.” I pushed my tray away. Pressed my back against the chair.

Millicent watched me, thinning her lips. “What's his name?”

I hesitated. “Greg.”

“Greg what?”

“Don't know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Why are you makin' such a big deal out of this?” I retorted. “I told you he'll only be here a few days. When he leaves, you'll still have Randy, and Alison will still have Jacob. And I'll be have-nobody Jackie.” I stopped abruptly, surprised at the hurt in my voice.

Millicent eyed me like a wise counselor. “Oh, I see. I get it.” She drew out the words, then offered me a patronizing smile. “Don't worry, Jackie. You'll find a boyfriend soon.”

For a friend, Millicent could be downright annoying. I had a choice. Either strangle her right then and there, or go take a walk and cool off. I rose and picked up my tray.

“You haven't eaten anything,” Cherise protested.

“I'm not hungry.” I looked across the cafeteria and spotted Derek dumping the remains of his food in the trash. He slid his tray on top of the stack, then ambled toward the door. Something about him caught my eye. I had to look twice before I realized what was different.

“Derek's not wearing his glasses.”

Millicent and Nicole turned as one to look. Cherise took a large bite of her brownie, then craned her neck, chewing.

“He hasn't had 'em on all day,” Alison said. “I saw him in third period.”

I'd been in a class with him that morning, too, but hadn't paid attention. Millicent shrugged back to the table. “Probably broke 'em.” She looked up at me questioningly, as if amazed I'd noticed.

I left the table without another word.

Between fifth and sixth periods, I passed Derek in the hall, my mind still stuffed with little but Greg. Derek smiled at me but didn't slow. For some reason I touched his arm, stopping him.

“Hey.” I pressed against a locker, away from the flow of bodies. His gray eyes looked just as I remembered from that day at the Kings. Warm. Round. “Where are your glasses?”

“Oh.” He creased his face in surprise, as if to assure me the topic had been the furthest thing from his mind. “I got contacts.” He shuffled his books from one arm to the other.

“Hi, Jackie,” Shirley Crane sang as she passed from behind, tapping my shoulder.

“Hi,” I said with distraction, still looking at Derek.

He scratched his head, clearly put on the spot. “Guess I better get to class.”

My heart went out to him. I hoped he'd gain some self-assurance through his improved appearance. If he'd just stand up straight, quit tilting his head. “You look really good, Derek.”

His eyelids flickered. “Thanks.”

We couldn't seem to find anything more to say. He mumbled “see ya” and went his way while I went mine.

Within seconds, my thoughts had drifted back to Greg. Just a few more hours, I told myself, and he'd arrive at our house for supper. As voices chattered around me and lockers slammed, I pictured Greg at our table. Katherine next to Daddy. And suddenly the unfolding events in our household didn't seem as strange as they did wondrous.

How ironic now to look back on that moment. I can almost hear the scuff of my feet across the dusty tiled hallway, feel the schoolbooks in my arms. I remember thinking, as I entered the classroom and slid into my seat, that life was finally improving, and the Delhams had much to anticipate. That Daddy had found happiness, which he so deserved.

That I couldn't
wai
t for supper.

Not in a million years would I have dreamed how disastrous it would prove to be.

chapter 20

K
atherine came over that afternoon to help me cook. She looked smashing in a pair of tan slacks and a short-sleeved silk orange top that hugged her curves, the gold bracelet gracing her wrist. I glanced down at myself, wondering what on earth I could change into for supper. The way things stood right now, Greg would more likely have eyes for her than for me.

We stood in the kitchen, canned laughter from a cartoon show drifting in from the family room. I'd seen Clarissa flop down on the couch, one hand scratching Winnie's ears.

Katherine stared at the floor, deep in thought.

“What is it?” I asked.

Her head jerked up. “Nothing. I was just . . .” She waved a dismissive hand. “So. What are we cooking?”

“I'll show you.” I began happily pulling out recipes from my file.

“Wait a minute, though. Shouldn't you be doing homework first?”

At a time like this? “Oh, come on, I've got more important things to do.”

“Huh-uh.” She laid a hand on my recipe file, stopping my busy fingers. “Come to think of it,” she said knowingly, “did you manage to do any homework yesterday?”

I winced.

“Ah. Thought so. Go on then. I'll make supper.”

“I don't want—”

“Go, Jackie. What do you suppose your daddy would think if he knew Greg was costing you schoolwork? Not to mention making sure that your brother and sister do theirs.”