The Mistaken Masterpiece (13 page)

I take the note from the very disappointed Tillie and hold it out for Margaret to read.

“You see, Sophie? Even Tillie knows the rules: no secrets!”

The next couple of days fly past, with only one strange event to report. I’m having a really nice conversation with Leigh Ann on the phone when … she bumps me for another call. I don’t even have a chance to protest; she just blurts out, “HeyI
haveto
takethis
I’llcall
youback
later.”

But here’s the weird part: right after Leigh Ann hangs up on me (which is the way
I
choose to interpret what happened), I call Rebecca, who is on another line with someone—she doesn’t say who—and then
she
bumps me off to go back to her first call, promising to call me as soon as she finishes. Which, to her credit, she does, ten seconds after Leigh Ann calls me back. Oy.

Neither one has a reasonable explanation. Leigh Ann mumbles something about having to talk to a classmate about an assignment, and Becca insists she was on with her mom, but I’m not buying either story. My imagination starts to run wild, and it’s no time at all until I have
convinced myself that they’re mad at me because I said something nice about Livvy, and now they want me out of the band.

They’re up to something. I’m sure of it.

On Friday, the Blazers have our regular gig at Perkatory, and we’re trying to learn a new song, bringing our repertoire up to four, including my own “hit” song—the one inspired by that fateful English project on apostrophes. Our drummer, Mbingu, has been working on the lyrics for a few weeks now, and she is finally satisfied with them, so we can debut the song Friday. This week’s show, however, has an added attraction: Nate Etan is coming to Perkatory to see the Blazers.

Wednesday afternoon, we’re jamming away in Elizabeth’s basement when I get a text message from him:

Rather than try to explain everything in a text message, though, I just tell him yes, and to check his email later for all the details. Movie star or not, we’re not going to cancel our Perkatory gig, so if he wants to see Tillie, he’s just going to have to come and see us at the coffee shop. Which is a little terrifying, but only slightly more so than an ordinary Friday night.

“Did you tell him about the baseball?” Becca asks.

“Or the howling?” adds Leigh Ann.

Mbingu points at my feet, where my red Chuck Taylors should be. “Or your shoes?”

“No, no, and no,” I say. “I don’t want him to feel guilty. He’s got enough on his mind already. I’ll tell him later.”

“You don’t think he’s, you know, taking advantage of you—just a little?” Mbingu asks. “I don’t know him, but it seems a little weird that he would ask you to do all this stuff for him when he hardly knows you.”

Becca, who had been as excited as anyone to meet him on the set, nods in agreement. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still totally going to marry him, but it
is
a little strange, Soph.”

“You guys are crazy,” I say. “He asked me for a
favor
. And I’m doing it. That’s what friends do.”

That’s me: friend to the stars. And the fifty dollars a day he’s paying me? Absolutely
nothing
to do with it.

Friday night, ten minutes after seven, and no Nate. Seven-fifteen. Seven-twenty. We can’t put off our set any longer because Mbingu has an eight-thirty curfew. (Hey, give us a break. We’re twelve.) Leigh Ann steps up to her microphone and says, “Hey, everybody. Welcome to Perkatory. We’re the Blazers.”

And by the way, we’re wearing our faux red blazers—T-shirts painted by Becca to look like punked-up versions of our school uniforms.
Très
cool. We open with our old standby, “Twist and Shout,” and just as we get
started, the door opens and in walks … Cam Peterson, Nate’s co-star—the one who was so rude to us on the set. He’s with a college-age guy who, frankly, doesn’t look old enough to be a manager, tough enough to be a bodyguard, or smart enough to be a tutor. After sizing up the place for a few moments, they sit at an empty table next to the one occupied by Margaret and Andrew (the cello player in her string quartet and the recipient of her first-ever kiss), along with Raf and his friend Sean, who has a huge crush on the not-at-all-interested Leigh Ann. Becca and I look at each other, shrug, and keep playing. Cam doesn’t exactly seem comfortable, but by the end of the song, he’s smiling and cheering along with everyone else. Of course, by then, all of the kids from school have realized that there’s a minor celebrity in the audience and are staring in his direction, and to be honest, I’m not sure if they’re cheering us or him.

We follow up with the Beatles’ “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” followed by my song, and then wrap things up with Mbingu’s creation, which has kind of a reggae beat that the crowd really gets into.

And still no Nate.

Cam Peterson’s head turns toward the door every time it opens, as if he’s waiting for someone, too—although my brain is having a hard time grasping just whom he could be waiting for in a tiny coffee shop on the Upper East Side on a Friday night.

With my guitar safely returned to its case, I join
Margaret, Andrew, Raf, and Sean at their table. There are only four chairs, so I guess I’ll just have to share one with Raf. Bummer.

“You were great, as usual,” Raf says, giving my hand a little squeeze under the table. “So, where’s this big movie star you guys are all so in love with?” He uses air quotes around “movie star.” “And where’s Tillie, anyway? I thought that’s why
he
was coming.”

Wait a second. Raf’s voice has that same tone again, just like the last time the topic was Nate, and it finally occurs to my marble-sized brain that he really is jealous! (Now, can someone please explain why that makes me so happy? Seriously—I don’t want to be one of
those
girls.)

“Shhh! Tillie’s in the back with the manager’s kids. We have to keep her out of sight until the other customers are gone. And I don’t know what happened to Nate.” I check my phone for messages for the seventeenth time, but there’s still no word from him.

Becca and Leigh Ann find chairs at the table next to ours, and a few seconds later Cam Peterson makes his way toward us.

He’s smaller than I remembered from that day on the movie set, and as he’s standing there between our tables, he’s just another nervous, slightly awkward boy—a far cry from the foulmouthed, rude kid we met in that catering tent.

“Um, hi, I don’t know if you … but you guys rocked. I really enjoyed it.”

“Thanks,” says Leigh Ann, flashing her milliondollar smile. “Do you want to join us?” She points to the empty chair next to hers.

There’s not a boy alive who can say no to that smile of Leigh Ann’s.

“Uh, sure. I guess. Thanks.”

“Do you want to ask your friend, too?” Leigh Ann asks, pointing to the guy Cam came in with.

“Oh, you mean Will? He’s not a friend—just a guy that the producers hired to make sure I don’t get lost, or kidnapped, or, you know, in trouble. He’s also supposed to be my math tutor, but I don’t think he knows what he’s talking about. He’ll be happy to get rid of me for a while, I’m sure.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Becca says. “Did you come here tonight just to see us play? Because that would totally freak me out.”

Cam smiles—the first time I’ve seen him do it—and it’s not bad. Not in Raf’s league, mind you, but I’ve seen worse.

“The truth is, no, but I’m glad I got to see you guys play. I am so jealous of people who can play instruments. I tried to learn guitar, but I didn’t have time to practice. And by the way, those shirts? Awesome. The real reason I came is that I’m supposed to be meeting Nate Etan here. I got this strange message from him saying he was only going to be in town for a few hours, and he really wanted to talk to me about these scenes we still have to shoot—like a month from now—and that he was meeting
his, um, dog here at seven. You haven’t seen him, by any chance?”

“No, he told me he’d be here at seven, too,” I say. “I’ve been taking care of Tillie for him while he’s off in London or wherever he is.”