Indigo Blues (9 page)

I swing open the door to my closet and catch a glimpse
of myself in the long mirror. I hardly look like a prince.
Toad, more like it. Crap brown hair and beady eyes the
color of the beads on the necklace.

Indigo said the brown stones stood for courage, and
the light wooden beads that separate them stood for peace
and simplicity. I wish I stood for courage.

ey, it's Adam. Where are you?"

Damn, I should've looked at the Caller ID,
but I thought it was just Cat calling me back. Too late to
hang up now. I dig my bare foot into the carpet threads.
I'm such an idiot. "In my room."

"Are you by yourself?"

I look at my open bedroom door and kick it shut with
my foot. "Yeah. Why?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Alone. That's all."

"Okay." I feel hot. Why am I hot? "How's New York?"

"Good. Busy. We're out like almost every night."

"That's great."

I hear a noise on the other end, like he dropped a pot
or something.

Adam clears his throat. "I miss you, Indigo."

Ugh, I'm not prepared for that. What do I say? I can't be
too harsh. I should tell him about Tripp just to get him off
my back. Let him know that I'm moving on and so should
he. "Thanks. But you wouldn't want to be here. Nothing's
changed in Caulder. It's as boring as ever. And I'm sure Abel
is the same. Well, they're almost done building a new Starbucks on Milton Street. " I stretch out on the carpet.

"But you're there."

"Yeah, guess I am." But I can't wait to leave, either. Like
the cliche goes, I want to go where nobody knows my name.
I'd never thought of my town as suffocatingly small until
now. Sure, we only have one high school with a thousand
students, two Starbucks, and a big public park. But before
"Indigo Blues" was released, the town felt big enough to me.
I better get into UCLA. I couldn't get any farther away from
Caulder, farther away from Adam.

"I'm wearing the necklace you made me."

"Oh, that's nice." That's one of my best pieces. Wish
I could have it back-especially the tiger eye stones. I pull
out my stash of beads. Maybe if I make him a new necklace, he'll send me back that one.

"And it goes with everything."

Great, so he's wearing it a lot. "Listen, I got to run. I'm
in the middle of something."

"I'll call you later."

I don't answer. Instead, I reach for the black stones. Not
the shiny ones that Mom loves. The lackluster ones that
came in an assorted grab bag my grandmother once bought me from a church garage sale. I know this is mean, but
Adam needs to have a necklace that suits his character. I'm
sure he likes the tiger eyes because they symbolize strength.
But I don't think that's what he needs right now.

Plenty of teens want to be famous, but I've never heard
of any pining to be infamous. I was content just being me. A
semi-popular at Forest Hill High, beadmaker, Rock Candy
employee, and older sister to pesky know-it-all brother. I've
never thought about adding pseudo-celeb to that list. If I
had a more common name the calls wouldn't have come
pouring in, but "Indigo Jackson" stands out like a prep at an
Ozzy Osbourne concert.

I've only been at school five minutes and all of a sudden I'm
surrounded by a pack of freshman girls. They flap around
me like a flock of pigeons. One's pulling at my shirt sleeve
and another one steps on my toe. "Ouch!" I can't take all
these birds pecking at me.

This is crazy. Is this what Britney Spears feels like every
time she walks into a store? No wonder she went ballistic
and shaved her head.

"Move back. I need some space!" I yell.

A girl with a long, thick, snakelike braid down her back
steps forward. There's something green caught in her braces,
but I don't say anything. "Hi, I'm Amberline, President of
the Adam Spade fan club."

"What?"

"We thought that in honor of the song `Indigo Blues,'
we should really band together and raise money to repair
Adam's broken heart."

This has to be a joke. "Ha, ha." I force a laugh.

Nobody is smiling.

"Do you take anything seriously?" Amberline crosses
her arms against her pancake chest.

"Excuse me, he's getting friggin' rich off this song. He
doesn't need your pocket change."

"That's not the point, and besides, we've already raised
one hundred and sixty-one dollars."

"Love can't be bought."

Another girl chimes in. "We're just trying to show our
support for his cause."

"Obsessive-compulsive disorder? You've got about
enough to cover one appointment with a shrink."

A short girl with pigtails whispers to Amberline, "I
told you she was mental."

I stomp my foot. "I'm not the crazy one here!"

"Uh-huh." She nods. I want to pull her pigtails straight
out of her head, but then they'd just get their confirmation
that I'm crazy.

Instead, I try another approach. "Listen, girls, I've got
to run because I have a phone interview with the execs over
at MTV, but I'll totally drop off some glossy pics of Adam
for you tomorrow."

"Really?" Amberline asks, and the whole group squeals.

I smile through gritted teeth. "Really."

A couple of periods later, I find Eli in the computer lab. "I
desperately need your help," I whisper.

He spins around from the computer to face me. "Moi?"

"Unless there's another Eli hiding under the desk?"

"What is it? I'm working on something for Mr. Prentice." He points to the monitor. He's designing a sign for the
environmental club. Ugh, how can I compete with that?

"Can you print, like, twenty pictures of Adam? Rip
them off the band's website or something."

"They don't have a color printer for students to use in
here."

"I need it by tomorrow morning or I'll have to face the
mob." I throw him a little pouty face. Something I only pull
out in extreme emergencies. And I figure that attack of the
killer freshmen is one of those moments.

A smile spreads across his face. "Good idea. We could
sell band T-shirts and key chains, too."

My frown becomes real. "Don't even think about it.
I'm just doing this to get some stalkers off my back. I'm
not selling anything."

"How about a few autographs from the guys?"

"How about I pull the plug on the computer?" I reach
for the wires.

Eli hits save. "Chill. We'd need a license to hawk their
merchandise anyway."

If I ever get real desperate I'm printing out all of Adam's
wacky emails and selling those on Ebay. That'll teach him.

kay, I'm going to do it today-write the next hit
song. Thank God this is the last song that I need to
write for the album. Last year, Zach and I wrote a couple
other songs that still need to be recorded, and Gina gave us
the go-ahead for those. But trying to write this next song is
ten times worse than writing "Indigo Blues" was, because
back then, no one was expecting me to write a number one
song. Heck, no one even knew I could write.

I throw on a non-gray (black) T-shirt freshly plucked
off the floor. Then with one swoop of my hand, I clear off
my desk and slide into my chair. How do the Greats do it?
Grab a cup of coffee? Smoke a cigarette? Take a swig of Jack
Daniels? None of which I do. I need to come up with my own ritual. I open my desk drawer. Chew on a paper clip?
Don't think so. There's a pack of Nerds in there. Nothing
like downing a box of sugar pellets in the morning. I push
open the little tab and fill my mouth up with the tiny candies. Lemonade flavor-not bad.

A minute later, I'm ready to roll. Better get working
before the sugar rush dies down and I need a nap. That's it.
"Sugar Rush," I type on my keyboard.

"I don't want no sugar rush... " But what rhymes with
sugar rush? Booger brush? Mush? Crush?

Okay, I feel like I'm back in grade school. I close my eyes
and let my fingers type. At least if I get something down, I
can say that I'm working on it. All I know is that this song
is not going to be about Indigo. It will be the complete and
total opposite of Indigo.