Indigo Blues (7 page)

All of us had been playing at least four years when we
met as freshmen in high school, with me having played the
longest. I'd begged my parents to let me take guitar lessons
since the first grade. It took until third grade for them to
realize that I was serious. I loved the guitar so much that I
used to sleep with it. That, I don't share with Allie.

We run through a few more get-to-know-the-band type
questions. Zach makes sure to tell her that we're scheduled
to go on tour in November after we finish our new album,
and to check our website for the deets. First stop, Boston,
of course. I look over at Gina. She has a big smile. I know
she's proud of Zach for getting a concert plug in.

Fifty seconds before we go to commercial. I think I'm
safe until Harry says, "And now for the big question."

My hearts drops.

"Everyone is dying to know, which one of you was scorned by Indigo?" He leans in even further, like he's luring in the biggest fish of all. His purple tie with tiny blue
stars wags back and forth.

No one answers. Instead they just turn to me, waiting
for me to speak. My ears feel like flaming-hot salsa. Allie
and Harry have big smiles on their faces, but their eyes are
telling me to speak. Twenty-five seconds left on the clock.

I raise my hand slightly. "Guilty."

"Well, you're not doing too shabby now," Harry says.

"That's right." Zach points to me. "Females are waiting in line to meet Adam. And when he's with a girl, he
treats her like royalty."

Okay, let's not go overboard here. I shuffle my foot
back and forth. Twelve seconds left.

"So the real question now is ... do you still love Indigo?"

God, what do I say? That I think about her 24/7? That
I'm a freak? That I can't think about anything else? "Let's
just say, I still have a place for her in my heart."

"Ahh," Allie says. "That's so sweet."

I'm sure Indigo doesn't feel the same way. But how can
she ignore what we had? We may have only been an official
couple for a few months, but we were in a "relationship"
for over a year.

Harry announces that it's time for a commercial break.
Without a second to breathe, they rush us over to the mini
stage.

Letting go of the Indigo question is not easy. Obviously this isn't the first time someone has asked me about
her, but it's hard to get used to. I know that it totally makes sense for them to be curious about the origin of the song,
but if I wrote about a girl that treated me well, people
wouldn't be so interested.

Gina drags me by the hand and basically plops me
onto the stage. "Doing great," she whispers in my ear.

I'm amazed at how organized everyone is. Between the
bulleted clipboards, walkie-talkies, and color-coded whiteboards in every room, they could probably run a small
country. My dad would be so impressed by their precision.
He would probably enjoy watching the behind-the-scenes
work more than hearing us play live.

Since this is my song, I'm the front man. When the
band first got together, I was not lead vocals. It seemed
natural that Zach, the most outgoing, would be our front
man. We both play guitar and can sing, but he's like a magnet and people are naturally drawn to him. For the other
guys it was obvious. Conjunction has played the drums
since he was eleven, and Tommy switched over to bass in
high school. It's only in the past year that I've stepped forward. With the success of "Indigo Blues," Toasted Almond
Records is pushing me to take the lead on most of the
tracks that we're recording for our album.

I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around-it's Zach.
He just winks at me. I smile, then turn back to face the
cameras. I wait for the count down: three ... two ... one,
you're on. And then for Harry's cue: "Here they are, ladies
and gentlemen, Blank Stare, with `Indigo Blues'..."

I close my eyes. I picture Indigo standing in front of
me, all smiles, like when she used to watch us on stage. And then I think about how she said she needed space
from me. I let loose on my guitar and sing my heart out.
Every word bleeds from my body.

When I'm through, sweat is dripping from my forehead and the whole staff of Wake Up, America is clapping
like crazy. Allie comes up on stage, wraps her thin arms
around me and Zach, and takes us to another commercial.

We did it.

Without Indigo.

fter having Lindsay attack me at lunch on Friday and
then hearing Tripp sing "Indigo Blues," I walk through
school this morning with my iPod on and my eyes fixed
in front of me. The trick is to look preoccupied so that no
one dares to interrupt you. I make it through the hallways
without saying hello to anyone. However, once I get to class
and pull out my earbuds, apparently I'm fair game! Mandi
Pringle, the girl with butt-length hair and a penchant for
popping zits, slaps her shiny pink notebook down on my
desk.

"Can I help you?"

"Your autograph please."

"Is this some kind of joke?" I sneer.

Her face drops. "No, I collect autographs and you're
the most famous person I know."

How pathetic. But I feel bad for her, so I scrawl my
name in nice bubbly print and, for added effect, I use a
heart to dot the second "i" in my name.

Mandi thanks me and saunters to her seat, hugging her
notebook. Poor girl needs to get out more.

Not even ten minutes into the lecture on arbitrary
angles, my cell vibrates once in my pocket. Who the hell
sends me a text during trig? If it's Adam, I'm going to
scream. As Mr. Stone scrawls on the whiteboard in his stoneage handwriting, I take a peek at my phone.

Meet 2f1 b-room asap.

The last time I got one of these messages from Cat,
she had gotten the corner of her shirt jammed in her fly.
This could be a true emergency. I raise my hand and clear
my throat. Mr. Stone nods okay. I tie my hoodie around
my waist in case Cat needs something to cover up a fashion disaster and snatch the bathroom pass off Stone's desk
before he changes his mind.

"Don't go, Indigo..." Ray Hernandez holds out his
hand as I pass by his seat.

"Get over it!" I snarl. I know I shouldn't let these "Indigo
Blues" jokes get to me, but I can't help it sometimes.

Cat and I reach the bathroom at the same time. She's
out of breath. "I just got a text from Lindsay, who's in TV
production. Adam is on Wake Up, America, like, right now."

"Okay." I lean against the sinks.

"The boy slut's in millions of homes as we speak."

"Okay," I say again. Until it dawns on me that my
name has now reached millions of homes, too.

"I think I'm going to be sick." I crane my neck over
the sink and pray that nobody opens the bathroom door.

"Breathe deep." Cat pulls my hair behind my neck.

I do as she says and wait for the bile to come, but it
doesn't surface. Thank God.

"Do you want to know the details?" Cat asks after she
lets go of my hair.

The sink is on full blast. I splash cold water on my
face. "Shoot."

"She said he looked cute. Well, she really said Zach
looked cute, but anyway, they were being interviewed by
Allie and Harry. They talked about how they met and stuff."

"So that's all?" I let out a sigh of relief.

"No, they ... ah ... mentioned you."

I suck back in my sigh of relief and cover my eyes.

"They said they wanted to know if there was a real
Indigo and who was in love with her."

"And?"

Cat shrugs her shoulders. "Lindsay didn't see the end.
She had to rush back to class."

I must have a look of desperation on my face because
Cat adds, "And then they were going to sing. And after
that, some other segment."

"Right." Too much info to swallow at once. I have to
get back to class. Mr. Stone has this thing about the bathroom pass and that it can only be used by one person in the class at a time. What if there is someone else that has to
pee really bad?

Cat and I agree to meet at lunch and I head back to
trig. I hope Lindsay and the rest of the TV crew keep their
mouths shut long enough for me to make it to the end of
the day.

I pass Rachel Fogg, one of the office aides, in the hallway. "Hey, Indigo. I just heard that your boyfriend was on
Wake Up, America this morning."

My stomach clenches. I grit my teeth. "He's not my
boyfriend."

"Sure." Rachel laughs.

Did she even listen to the lyrics of the song? What kind
of boyfriend would say that his girlfriend's eyes are gonna
glaze and she'll wish she had me then ... ?

I pull hard on the doorknob to room 221 and toss the
bathroom pass onto Mr. Stone's desk. Everyone's scribbling
in their notebooks, working on a problem set up on the
board.

I slump down into my chair and pull out a pencil. For
the next twenty minutes my eyes flit between the whiteboard and my notebook. My thinking-if I don't make eye
contact with anyone then they'll forget about me. Well, it
works. That and the fact that the last ten minutes of class
is spent working on a three-question pop quiz, a Stone specialty.

I bust out of class and head for Marketing. I consider
avoiding the masses in the hallway by hiding out in a bathroom stall, but Mrs. Tavers likes to single out late entries with questions that have no answers. She enjoys humiliation a little too much. So I take the main hallway to my
locker to dump off my trig book.

"That's her," I hear a freshman girl whisper to her
friend. I pretend they're pointing to someone else and slam
my locker shut.

What could Adam have said to Allie and Harry about
me? On national TV. Now probably the whole world
thinks I'm a bitch. How could that stupid girl from Caulder,
Mass break the heart of such a sweet guy? It's not like that,
people! We went out for one season. We didn't even have
sex. Adam was way too intense. He wouldn't back down. I
broke it off. End of story. Or at least it should've been.

I see Tripp leaning over the water fountain. I'd notice
that cute booty anywhere. I so want to go over and pinch
it, but I don't need a rep as a butt grabber, either. I walk
slow and wade through the other students until Tripp lifts
his head.

"Hi." I smile.

He wipes his chin with the back of his hand. "Hey
Indigo, what's up?"

"Not much. You?"

"Got a big scrimmage on Thursday. You should come."

"Yeah, that would be cool." As long as you don't think
I'm a bitch once word gets out about my defaming on
morning TV. The crowds are starting to thin out. "Okay,
better run."

Tripp looks down at his blue shirt. "I'm left standing
here all blue. Oh, yes, I've got the Indigo Blues..."

I pretend not to let it bother me and wave as I turn
the corner. I know he's only trying to be funny, but it's not
working. This whole thing is driving me nuts. Just when I
thought I had something good ...

What a day! After weighing candy at Rock Candy for four
hours and hearing about Adam's ego-damaging interview,
all I want to do now is veg on the couch and watch mindless entertainment. I open the front door and toss my book
bag into the hall closet.