Lemonade Mouth (23 page)

And I can feel everybody else looking at us.

Somebody calls out from the other end of the hallway. “Hey, Mohini!”

I turn. Richie Benedetti and Pete Boucher are at the other end of the corridor grinning at me. I don’t know those guys very well. They’re part of a sullen crowd that mostly keeps to themselves. I sometimes see them hanging out near the busses after school. Ray Beech has a name for them: The Parking Lot Fleas. Anyway, Richie and Pete don’t look too sullen now.

“Hold it high!” they call out in unison. “Raise it up!” They give me thumbs-up signs and then disappear around the corner.

Everything feels different now.

While some kids treat me like I’m a star or something, Scott acts like I don’t exist. I rarely see him in the hallways anymore and on the few times I do, he pretends I’m not there. He even ignores me in study hall, which is tough since our assigned seats are so close. All I can do is keep my nose pressed in my book and act like I don’t care. But it feels like there’s a clamp on my forehead. Sometimes it gets so bad I have to hide in a bathroom stall until the feeling passes.

But it’s a funny thing about those headaches. After a few days, I stop getting them. In fact, it’s a surprise to me how
quickly
I feel better.

It isn’t just that the Lemonade Mouth signs are a distraction. Not eating with Scott anymore means I end up spending lunches at the Freak Table more often, which I start to look forward to. I also feel more focused now. I’ve recommitted myself to my grand plan, studying harder than ever and increasing my hours at the clinic.

Most of all, I’m relieved that the lying and sneaking around is over. I guess I never realized just how badly it was eating me up inside.

All in all, I’m astonished how easy it is to get used to no longer being Scott’s girlfriend. It’s weird. Being with him used to mean so much to me, but now I spend my time with my new friends and Scott doesn’t feel so important. I guess I finally recognized that one of the big reasons I liked Scott was that it meant being part of the in-crowd. And now I know what that’s worth, I don’t want it anymore.

And that’s what I’m mulling over on my way to study hall when I happen to pass the open gym doors and see two janitors setting up a ladder near the far wall. They’re about to take down another mystery sign. Tied to the metal bars high above one of the basketball nets hangs a giant bed sheet with painted purple letters.

MY SPIRIT IS A LION THAT WILL NOT BE CAGED

I wonder how somebody got it up there without being seen. But I can’t help smiling. The line is Olivia’s from our song “Better Places.” It’s one of my favorites.

It’s been more than two weeks now, and the mysterious messages haven’t stopped appearing. A week ago somebody filled an entire wall in the girls’ bathroom near the cafeteria. The next morning it was the boys’ locker room. So far nobody’s been caught. Now, just before the janitors can pull the sheet down, it’s a nice feeling to see our words hanging in the new gym high above the shiny parquet floor. It really feels like I’m still part of something. Something even bigger now than before.

Even though I’m not sure what it is, exactly.

Suddenly I sense movement near my ear. I spin around in a panic, because for some reason I have a flash that it might be Scott. Thankfully, it isn’t.

It’s only Charlie.

“You think Brenigan’s ever going to change his mind?”

“No way,” I say. “Not a chance.”

He smiles in that cool, sleepy-eyed way he has. “Me neither. Walk together?”

“Sure.” I adjust my book bag on my shoulder and continue down the hall with him.

Things have been different with Charlie, too. For starters, since the Bash I’ve found it hard not to notice how girls hover around him. To be honest, it’s annoying. Sure, all five of us are suddenly getting attention we aren’t used to, but my God!

“How’s Veronica?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Fine I guess.”

I study his expression, but if there’s any sign of hidden feelings I don’t catch it.

“Just curious.” Now I feel stupid for bringing it up. In the two weeks since the Bash, Charlie and I have stopped having our regular heart to heart chats. He hardly ever seems to want to walk to class with me anymore. He’s always in a rush to see a teacher, maybe meet with Lyle or whatever. When I try to meet him at the Metal Shop he’s always gone before I get there. It’s almost as if he’s trying to avoid me. Anyway, even though we see each other in crowds, like at the Freak Table, it isn’t the same as before.

And I have to admit, I miss him.

“Listen, I have news,” he says, changing the subject. “What would you say if I told you we could play another show?”

I don’t answer. Surely he isn’t serious.

“Come on, what would you say?”

“I’d say you’re nuts. Didn’t we just agree that Mr. Brenigan’s never going back on his decision?”

We turn the corner and start up the stairs toward the study hall. “I’m not talking about playing here at school. Listen, Lyle told me he talked to Bruno. From the Pizza Planet? Well, Lyle gave him a CD and Bruno liked it. He says he’ll let us play there sometime.”

I gape at him. Lemonade Mouth at a pizza place? Is this a joke?

“It’s not so weird. Mudslide Crush played there a few times. It’s not like he’d pay us much, either, or put us on a great night. Lyle says Bruno won’t let us play a Friday or Saturday because we haven’t proven we bring in a big enough crowd. Even Mudslide Crush never played there on a weekend. But something’s better than nothing.”

I’m having a hard time taking this in. He really is serious. And even though part of me feels excited about this unexpected news, another part of me is worrying about turning the pressure back up in my life. That’s been the silver lining of Lemonade Mouth being over: managing my time has been a little easier.

“Just think,” he continues, “depending on how it goes, this could even lead to a regular gig.”

“A regular gig?” I stop walking, suddenly aware of the pressure already growing in my forehead. “I don’t know. Isn’t it enough that we didn’t get suspended already?”

“Mo, Mr. Brenigan said we couldn’t play at school events, but he can’t tell us not to play anywhere at all.”

“What does Olivia say? Have you asked her?”

He looks at his shoes. “She says she doesn’t want to do it,” he admits finally. “I guess singing in public, even just the one time—well, it really was hard for her. So far she’s saying no.” To me, this comes as no surprise. When Mr. Brenigan pulled us from the Talent Show, I think we all suspected that deep down Olivia probably felt a little relieved. “But if everybody else is up for it don’t you think we can convince her to change her mind? Think of it. Bruno’s.”

I’m prevented from answering because just as I open my mouth to respond, Hilary Levanthal, a freckled, pointy-nosed sophomore who seems determined to cram herself into a miniskirt every day even now that the weather is colder, appears between us. “What? Are you
kidding
? Lemonade Mouth at Bruno’s? You
gotta
do it! So many kids would come!”

My cheeks grow warm. This is a private conversation! How long has she been listening?

But Hilary’s rudeness doesn’t seem to faze Charlie at all. “Wow, thanks Hilary. That’s really nice to hear.”

“Well, you guys are the best!” She gives him a wide, toothy smile, and then for an uncomfortable moment the two of them stand there grinning at each other while I seethe. Finally, she puts her hand on his arm. “See you later, Charlie.”

Then something inside me, something irrational and completely out of my control, makes me spin around and stomp away. I drop my head and keep marching, pushing my way through the crowd.

“What’s the matter, Mo?” Charlie calls, catching up with me.

“Nothing.” I keep moving. I don’t look at him.

As we round the final corner I can almost feel his eyes studying the side of my face. “Really, tell me what’s going on.”

But I
can’t
explain, not even to myself. Still, the bell is about to ring and he’s waiting for me to say something.

“Charlie,” I say, still walking fast and not looking at him, “in case you haven’t noticed, Olivia isn’t the only one feeling stressed around here. It’s everything I can do to keep my grades up in Trigonometry and Latin. And that’s on top of the rest of my classes, bass lessons with Mrs. Reznik, volunteering at the clinic and working at the store. I’m already pushing the limits of what I can take. Sure, I agreed to do the Halloween Bash and even the talent show, two
school
events, but now you’re talking about an even bigger commitment.” We’re near the door now, so I spin around to face him. “Plus, did you know that after Trig this semester I’m considering filling the space with another elective?”

He shakes his head.

“Well I am. Pre-calc.” And then I can’t help adding, “If you and I ever got a chance to talk anymore you’d know that.”

His expression changes. I can’t be sure because the lighting in the hallway isn’t great, but I almost think his face is turning pink.

Suddenly I feel like a jerk. It isn’t that anything I told him is a lie, it’s just that something inside my chest is pulling at me, like I’m not telling the whole truth—even though I’m not exactly sure myself of what the whole truth is.

But suddenly it dawns on me.

All at once I realize that I’m gazing into his eyes like a desperate puppy. And finally it hits me, the awful truth. It practically bowls me over like a hot bucket of obvious. Suddenly I feel like the dumbest girl that ever was.

I’m
crazy
about him.

Why didn’t I see this before?

And then, still gaping at his face, I make a decision: I have to stay away from Charlie. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice, sneaking around like a thief and lying to my parents like I did with Scott. No way. Not again.

“Mo,” he says, “maybe you don’t realize how big a deal Lemonade Mouth is to a lot of kids around here. We’re not just a band to them. It’s weird, but somehow they’ve made us . . . I don’t know . . .
more.
It’s almost like they’ve put us at the center of a
movement,
you know what I mean?”

But I’m not capable of speaking at the moment. And as I gaze mush-headed over Charlie’s shoulder, I happen to notice Andrea Beckham rolling around the corner in her wheelchair. Seth Levine is with her, and Jane Seiseki too. In a way, it’s strange that I have the clarity of mind to even notice them, considering what’s going on in my head. But like Richie and Pete, Andrea is another quiet kid who rarely ever smiles and seems to exist in the margins. And yet here she is rushing toward us from the direction of the Speech and Language lab with two of the most popular kids in school. Jane is pushing her fast, with Seth running alongside. All three of them are giggling. They’ve obviously been up to something. But when they notice us, they slow down.

“Look who it is,” Seth says in a low voice. “Two of the instigators themselves.”

Andrea gives me a conspiratorial look. “Did you guys hear about the gym?”

Not sure what to say, I just nod.

“That wasn’t you three, was it?” asks Charlie.

They look at each other and laugh. And then Jane whispers, “Nope. But whoever did it, it was a good one, don’t you think?”

Andrea leans forward and speaks in an even quieter voice. “It’s just terrible what the school is doing to you. You guys deserve to be treated better.” I realize that I’ve never seen her looking so happy. I take in her face, her soft features, her cheekbones that stand out when she smiles. Andrea normally wears her hair so that it covers her features, but now she has it tied back. I realize that she’s beautiful. I’ve never noticed that before.

Seth glances over his shoulder. “Guys, we can’t stop. We gotta get away from here fast.”

Even as Jane starts to turn the wheelchair, Andrea is still beaming at us. A moment later Charlie and I watch them vanish down the hallway. Then the bell rings. Now, it isn’t like me to show up late to any class, even if it’s only study hall. But Charlie and I take one look at each other and then we both sprint in the direction Seth, Jane and Andrea just came from. Whatever they’ve been up to, we want to find out.

The Speech and Language lab isn’t far; it’s just around the corner all on its own in a little dead-end corridor. When we round the bend we both stop, frozen.

The signs are hung everywhere. Lemon yellow paper arranged in a checkerboard pattern across all three walls. The effect is impressive, even pretty. Most are the usual messages like JUSTICE FOR LEMONADE MOUTH and MEL’S IS MARVELOUS but I especially notice the ones near the bottom.

JUST BECAUSE YOU NEVER LOOK AT ME
DOESN’T MEAN I’M NOT HERE

Another of Olivia’s lyrics. And I think again of quiet Andrea Beckham, the last person I would have expected to make a big statement about anything. But then I remember with growing pride the word Mr. Brenigan used for us.

Subversive.

When Charlie speaks, he doesn’t look at me. “So you really can’t play another show?” But words won’t come. And the truth is, I’m not sure what I want anymore.