I found Becca at recess, playing basketball with the boys as usual. I watched her play for about five minutes, then waved and got her attention.
“I need to talk to you.”
She ran by. “Can it wait?” she asked. “We’re up 12–9.”
“It’s important.”
“Guys! Sub!” she yelled, then came over. “What’s up? Is this about the other night?”
We hadn’t really talked about the whole songwriting thing since she made it clear she wasn’t into it. And it was killing me not to tell her about my visit to Jane’s studio, but I’d promised Jane I wouldn’t. So instead I said, “Well, no, but since you brought it up, I should tell you that I’ve actually started writing a song.”
“That’s awesome!”
“It’d be more awesome if you wrote it with me,” I added. I’m not really sure why I said that. I think I was just scared at the idea of writing by myself.
Becca wiped some sweat from her forehead. “Katie, being in a band with you is fun, it really is, but I’m not as into being a musician as you. I’m just not, sorry. I’m not doing it to get famous. It’s just supposed to be a fun way to hang out together.”
“I’m not doing it to get famous, either, Bec,” I said, defensively.
“Okay, sorry, forget it,” Becca said. “And I’m sorry if you’re mad about band practice.”
“What about band practice?”
“I told you I couldn’t rehearse again until Friday night.”
Now I was mad. “Wait, what? Friday night? That’s the night before the talent show? What about Wednesday? We practice every Wednesday!”
“I have a playoff game,” Becca said. “Like I told you.”
“No, you didn’t tell me,” I said, getting more annoyed.
Becca frowned. “I did. Didn’t you get my text?”
Ah, so that was it. “No.” I pulled Becca over to the jungle gym and took a deep breath. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not using my cell phone anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not using my phone. At all! I gave it up.”
Becca shook her head. “I don’t understand. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you do that?”
“I was getting addicted to it, and I just felt like it was taking over my life.”
Becca took out her own phone and stared down at it. “I guess I know what you mean.” Then she read a text, laughed, and sent a quick reply. “Oops,” she said, looking up at me. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. I wasn’t ready to ask my friends to give up their phones, too. Mainly because I had no idea how I was going to get them to do it.
Becca looked out onto the basketball court. She really wanted to go back in, I could tell.
“So anyway, that’s it,” I said. “Go ahead back to your game. I’m bummed out about the rehearsal thing, but we’ll just have to deal with it.”
“It’s just a talent show, Katie,” Becca said. “It’s not a TV show.”
She ran back onto the court. As I watched her play, I realized that she was happiest with a ball in her hand, kind of like the way I was happiest with a guitar in my hand. She was in the band because she was my friend, not because she wanted to write songs and change the world.
I suddenly felt selfish that I was trying to force her and the rest of the band to be more like me. It was totally fine to just play famous songs. Lots of bands do. Our band could, too.
I just wasn’t sure I wanted to be a part of it.