My Name Is Chloe (19 page)

Still, I’m not sure that I’m ready to make any
big commitments about sex at the moment—one way or another. To be honest, it’s not something that even interests me much right now—there’s too much else going on in my life. I suppose if I had a real serious boyfriend, I might have to think harder about this whole thing. But, hey, I’m in no big hurry to have sex—as if anyone’s even asking! I guess it’s something I’ll have to work out between God and me. In due time that is. And I mean His time, not mine.

I took some time by myself this afternoon, to take a walk and just talk to God—alone and undisturbed by tinsel and trees and jingle bells (not that I don’t like those things because I really do!). As odd as it probably seemed to any casual observers, especially on Christmas, I went up to the cemetery—to my rebirth place. I just wanted some quiet time to think about what He has done for me—for us. How He came to earth in the form of a vulnerable little baby—His Son—to show us how much He loved us.

As I walked around the familiar gravestones, I wondered if I would be willing to do something so huge, like leave the comfort of a wonderful place like heaven to go someplace cold and dark and foreboding. I considered Katherine Lucinda dancing with the angels in the warm golden light up above (or whatever it is they do up there), and I’m sure it must be fantastic. Anyway, I thanked Jesus for doing this thing—for coming to earth—for loving me, and for changing my life.

Just a year ago I was totally miserable. I didn’t even know what the point of Christmas was. And I remember getting into a huge fight with my parents, and I actually considered running away on Christmas Eve. I wanted to hurt them because they seemed so stupid and shallow
and hypocritical to me at the time.

And now, well, I suppose they haven’t really changed, but even so it’s easier to accept them for who they are. And I know that’s God at work in me. I mean, we’re all different—that’s how God made us—and it’s okay. So, I guess I’m the one who’s changed the most. And just taking some time to consider these things makes me so thankful. I wonder what I’ll be feeling by next Christmas.

We had an extra long practice today since we’re going to play at the Paradiso Café next Friday night—our first paying gig as a band. Which also managed to launch us into our first major disagreement since Allie has become a Christian. It’s like the honeymoon was over. Or maybe just the roller coaster taking a sharp plunge. Anyway, I had just suggested that we should put our earnings (which won’t be much) toward making a CD. “We could even open a savings account in our band’s name.”

“Yeah,” agreed Laura. “That’s cool.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” said Allie. “Do I get a vote here?”

“Of course.” I turned to see what she had to say.

“It’s all good and well for you two to decide to put our earnings into a savings account,” she began, juggling her drumsticks as she talked. “But Laura, you have a job, and Chloe, you have rich parents. So it’s no big deal to you. But for me to earn a few bucks and actually get to keep it,
well, that’s something I was kinda looking forward to.”

So we kicked it around for a while, and I hate to admit it, but it got a little hot in there (and I don’t mean the temperature). I just didn’t see why Allie wasn’t willing to reinvest this money back into the band.

“Look, Allie,” I reminded her, “You’re not doing so badly. You’ve got a roof over your head and food to eat and clothes to wear. What more do you need?”

“That’s easy for you to say!” She hit her cymbal hard. “You’ve got it made here on Snob Hill.”

“Hey, that’s not fair—”

“And I don’t have it as good as Chloe,” injected Laura. “But you don’t see me holding back.”

“You’ve got a job—”

“I work hard at my job. It’s not like they’re handing me the money on a silver platter!”

And so it went. Finally, after Allie had burst into tears and both Laura and I had to apologize, we decided it was time to pray. That’s when we made a really good discovery. See, good things do come out of bad (when you allow God to lead, that is). We discovered that as a band we needed to put God first.

“I think we should always start practice by praying together,” said Laura as we were packing up.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” agreed Allie.

“And maybe we should write something down,” I suggested.

“Huh?” Allie looked at me. “You mean like a contract?”

“Not exactly. Well, maybe. Mind of like a contract between God and us. Something that clearly says what we are about—what our purpose as a band is.”

Laura nodded. “I like that.”

“Me too,” said Allie. “But let’s not make it too complicated. Stuff never works when it’s too complicated. Like when I was twelve, some friends and I tried to start a club, but the rules were so hard to remember that we finally just gave it all up.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “let’s keep it simple.”

So we sat down and put our heads together and finally came up with our list. (My dad says it’s called a mission statement.) Anyway, it’s not terribly original. Mostly, it’s just what Jesus said. But as simple as it sounds, it took us about an hour to agree on it. This is what it is:

Our gig at the Paradiso was a real hit on Friday night. The place was packed full with SRO (standing room only). And Laura and Allie played better than ever. I actually found myself wondering what I could’ve been thinking when I’d seriously considered the whole “going solo” biz. I mean, I might be pretty good on my own, but I think we’re totally awesome as a group. Of course, that’s only my humble opinion.

My parents were there too, along with their friends the Stephensens. Afterward Mr. Stephensen came up and talked to us.

“You girls have really got something here.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stephensen,” I said. “This is Laura and Allie.”

He smiled and shook their hands. “Just call me Ron.”

“Ron teaches music at the college,” I explained.

“Yeah, and this isn’t the first time I’ve told Chloe that she’s onto something with her music here. You girls could have a future.”

“Really?” Allie’s eyes grew big. “You mean professionally?”

“I’m not a real expert, but I know when someone has potential. Are you girls really serious about your music?”

“We practice a lot,” said Laura.

“It shows.” He handed me a business card. “If you’re still interested in cutting a CD, give me a call. You’ll never get anywhere without a CD.”

“Yeah, that’s what Willy says too,” said Allie.

“Willy?”

“He gives me drumming lessons. He used to tour with a rock band.”

He nodded. “Well, he’s right. It takes a lot to make it in the music business, but cutting a CD is the first step.” He started to leave then stopped. “Hey, have you entered the Battle of the Bands?”

“Battle of the Bands?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“I hope it’s not too late.” He scratched his head. “It’s up at the college. There’s a twenty-five-dollar entry fee, but it’s great exposure for picking up local gigs. They even give out some prizes.”

“How do we sign up?” I asked.

“Why don’t you let me look into it for you,” he suggested. “I could even sign you up.”

I looked at Laura and Allie. “You want to?” I could tell by Allie’s face that she was calculating her third of the entry fee. “I’ll cover the twenty-five bucks,” I said quietly.

“I’m in,” Allie said with a bright smile.

“Me too,” added Laura.

“Okay, then.” I shook Ron’s hand. “See if you can get us in.”

He called the next day while we were practicing and said he pulled a couple strings and we’re in! The whole thing happens next Saturday. So we decided to practice both Saturday and Sunday as well as three nights next week.

“You know what the grand prize is?” I said, directing my question to Allie.

Her eyes lit up. “A million bucks?”

“No, silly. It’s a brand-new, really good PEARL drum set!”

“You’re kidding?” She clutched her drumsticks. “Do you think we really have a chance?”

“Ron does.”

Laura cleared her throat. “Yeah, but if we win, I suppose we’d have to sell, the drum set and split the money three ways.”

“Yeah, or put it all toward cutting our CD,” I added, turning to wink at Laura.

Allie slumped down and groaned. “You mean you guys would sell a perfectly good drum set?”

“You’re always complaining about wanting money,” Laura reminded her. “That would put some cash in your pocket.”

“But …” Allie just shook her head.

“Oh, I don’t know. What do you think, Laura, could we let her keep the drums?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. And the whole band would benefit from it. No offense, Chloe, but your brother’s drums are a little cheesy.”

“Hey, watch what you’re calling cheesy,” warned Allie, pretending to hug the bass drum. “I
like
these guys.”

“Oh, well, then, maybe we’ll just sell the new set after all.”

“Not so fast.” Allie stood up. “I think Redemption could use a better sounding set of drums.”

“I’ll say!”

“You mean if we win,” Laura reminded us.

“And that’s a big if,” I added.

“Let’s get to work!” Allie sat back down and started hitting the beat for the next song on our list.

And so now we’re all praying that somehow, someway, we’ll get that first prize and take home that drum set for Allie—well, for all of us, really.

Bad news. We just found out that Screaming Tangerine is going to be at the Battle of the Bands. All the kids at school are talking about it. Screaming Tangerine is a local band that everyone predicts is about to make it big time. It almost seems unfair that they get to compete. But then I suppose they’ll bring in a lot of ticket sales, and the whole purpose of the concert is to raise money for the college music program. Oh, well. At least we get to compete. That’ll be fun.

Allie was pretty down about the whole thing at lunch today. But Laura kept assuring her that we still have a chance. I’m not so sure, but for Allie’s sake I’m acting as if we could still win.

But here’s what is fun. Word’s gotten around school that we’re going to be in the Battle of the Bands, and some people are actually treating us like celebrities. Allie really eats this kind of attention up. And even though Laura acts as though it’s no big deal, I can tell she loves it too. I’m not quite sure how to act exactly, but I try not to gloat when I see someone like Tiffany Knight scowling at me in choir. She doesn’t put me down
anymore, but she’s not what you’d call civil either. In fact, I’m sure this whole thing totally irks her. And I try not to take too much satisfaction in that, but, hey, I
am
human. Sorry, God. Help me to be kinder.

What a night! My head is still spinning. Okay, this is what happened. They let the bands draw numbers for when they played, and we got number sixteen (and that was out of eighteen bands). So we had to sit there and sweat and freak and chew our nails down to the nubbins while
fifteen
other
great bands performed before us.

Okay, I’ll admit that some of the bands weren’t all that great, and I felt pretty sure that we could easily beat
some
of them. But some of them were really good too. Like Pat Tango—another girls’ band that was really hot and got huge applause. And most of the bands have been playing together for years (not just a few months!). And, of course, Screaming Tangerine performed about midway through the concert, and the crowd absolutely went wild for them, stomping and clapping for an encore, which the emcee practically guaranteed when he said, “Hey, don’t worry; the winning band will play again at the end of the show.”

“Screaming Tangerine is obviously in first now,” Allie told us with a glum face. “And Blue Night is probably tied with Fat Tango, with Chop-Shop not too far behind.”

We both nodded. That sounded about right. We sat there and pretended to enjoy the music when I know that all we could think about was getting this thing over with and getting out of there. Then just as the band before us was playing and we were waiting backstage, Allie started to freeze up.

“I can’t do this,” she said. “I’m gonna be sick.”

“Come on, Al,” I urged her. “Just take a deep breath and relax. It’s no different than playing the Paradiso.”

And then she threw up—all over my guitar. Okay, I’ll admit that for a split second I wanted to kill her. Maybe for a few seconds. Then I grabbed my denim jacket and tried to wipe the gluck off and dry my guitar. I heard a guy behind us totally losing it as if we were the funniest thing on the planet. Laura made Allie take some drinks from her water bottle and gently wiped down her face then said, “You better just shape up, girlfriend!” She glared at her. “Cuz we’re going out there, and we’re not taking any excuses from anyone!
Understand
?”