Indigo Blues (12 page)

My phone rings. This time I answer it. "What's up,
Gina?"

"Just checking in on you."

"I didn't fall into a black hole."

"Good, because I was worried." She laughs.

I stretch my feet out under my desk. "I'm okay, getting back into the groove after a lunch break. What about
you?"

"I'm trying to iron out the tour schedule. Making a
few adjustments."

"Why? I thought everything was cool. Somebody bail?"

"No, it's just that if we skip Boston it would take some
stress away from you."

Suddenly I feel like a balding over-fifty drowning from
the rat race. Going on our first major tour should not cause
a heart attack. Am I that fragile?

"The guys are psyched about the homecoming show."
I pick at a hangnail.

"I know, but being in the vicinity of Indigo is not good
for you."

More hangnail picking. "I dunno. Don't want to screw
the schedule up."

"Listen, get back to work and don't worry about the
tour. Make sure you take a rest every few hours."

"A nap does sound good."

"Well, ahhh ..." She hesitates. "If you can fit it in."

"Kidding, Gina. I'm ready to roll. I've got the sugar
rush."

"I won't keep you then," she says, and we hang up.

I can't think about Boston now. I can't think about
playing for a huge crowd and spotting Indigo among the
sea of faces. Maybe Gina is right. Maybe I would freak out.
We can always go to Boston another time.

I force myself to forget about the tour and focus on
getting a kick-ass song down on paper. This one's for the
band.

I strum, I sing, I type. Finally, I just sing. I'm so glad
these apartment walls are cinder block and the old lady next
door is half deaf, because this song is a lot faster tempo than
"Indigo Blues."

I'm done. Sweat's dripping from my forehead like a
mad man even though it's cool in my apartment today. I
quickly type the rest of the lyrics into my keyboard, clinging to every word that comes out of my mouth. I need to
see it all on the screen. This is my song. My life. I did it.

Alone.

ad and I sit on the couch watching the birth of a calf
on TLC. What's wrong with this picture? Besides the
fact that he's usually tucked away in his home office at this
time and I'm sitting home on a Friday night. It's cool to
actually hang out with Dad, though.

"Do you think I should change my name?" I clasp
a piece of plastic with my teeth while I sift through my
beadbox for a pink bead. I'm making Mom a necklace for
her birthday next week.

"Why? Running into too many Indigos?" He crunches
down on a handful of pretzels.

"The opposite. I stick out like a sore thumb." I look
over at the TV. The farmer is wearing overalls, tall black
rubber boots, and a wide-brimmed straw hat. He's totally in his element, but plop him in the middle of the city and
he, too, would be a sore thumb.

"Hey, I saved you. Your mom's first choice was Prudence."

"Eww. Well, I used to like my name until it was blasted
all over the place."

"Have you ever told Adam how you felt?"

"Isn't it a little late for that?"

"I meant more for you. To help you deal."

"Oh, I never thought about that." Weird. Not sure if
that's like opening Pandora's box. But Dad's trying, I'll give
him that.

I lay out three possible stones on the coffee table to put
in the center of Mom's necklace. A cobalt blue polished
one, an ivory-looking flower, and a smooth pearl drop.

Dad's still looking at me, five o'clock shadow dominates his usually smooth face. He points to the flower. I
like it, too. "Well?"

"I'll think about it. I've been trying to distance myself
from all things Indigo."

"You can't hide forever." Dad suddenly frowns. "Ohh."

We both turn our heads back to the show. We've missed
the actual birth. The calf's not breathing. There's no sound
coming from the TV.

I turn up the volume, thinking it might be muted. Still
no sound.

"This is so sad. Is he dead?" I ask.

Yes.

"Even The Learning Channel is too depressing for me. Life sucks." I get up from the couch and head to the
kitchen.

"In a few years you'll laugh about this," Dad calls after
me.

I pull out a jar of peanut butter and a sleeve of Saltines.
I tuck them under my arm and grab a water bottle. "Well,
I'm not laughing now. I'm going to my room."

After I finish my feast, I pick up my cell. There's a
voicemail. If it's from anyone that lives out of state, I'll
scream.

"Hey, Indigo, it's Tripp. Just calling to say hi. Call me
back."

Just calling to say hi? How cute is that! I didn't know
that guys called just to say hi. I feel like a freshman againgetting all psyched that a guy called. But come to think of
it, I don't think people ever grow out of that. Plus, Adam
used to call so much that sometimes I'd just stick my cell
in a drawer.

Tripp called at 9:14 p.m., about the time the dairy farmer
announced that the cow was pregnant. A wave of panic flows
through me. What if Tripp really called to cancel our date
tomorrow night? He's playing it nice on the message and as
soon as I call him back he's going to lay it on me: "Sorry,
Indigo but it's a no-go. I don't like you anymore. Never did.
See ya!"

I stare at his number and prepare myself for the ultimate letdown. Get it together, Indigo.

I flop down on my bed and hit send. He answers on
the first ring.

"Hey, Tripp. It's Indigo."

"Hey! Hi!"

"Sorry I missed your call. I was watching a calf being
born."

"Huh?"

Great, now he thinks I'm a total freakazoid. I try a different approach. "I didn't have my phone on me."

"No prob. I called because Coach added a practice
tomorrow. Doesn't end until five."

"Okay." I pick up the teddy bear, Fred, that I've had
since fourth grade and toss him against the wall. "Another
time then. Or not."

Pause.

"Actually, I was just going to say, I'll pick you up at six."

I walk over to Fred and pick him up. I mouth "sorry"
to his sad little face and pat his fur.