There were four of us in CHICKMATE: myself on guitar and lead vocals; Becca Clausen, who started the band with me, on guitar and background vocals; Jackie Bender on keyboards; and Sammie Corcoran on drums. We were still looking for a bass player. Turns out there aren’t a lot of bass players in middle school—especially girl bass players.
Wednesday night, the night after the Plain Jane concert, we had rehearsal. We usually rehearsed in Becca’s basement, because it was soundproof—which was very important to parents—and because it was big enough to hold instruments, amps, drums, and five-foot-ten-inch Becca Clausen.
I got there early, and Becca waved me into the kitchen, where she was eating cereal. “Want some?”
I shook my head. “No thanks, I’m good.”
I watched her eat for another minute.
“Okay, I guess I’ll have a little.”
Becca laughed. “No one can resist the power of Froot Loops.” She was right about that.
I helped myself and started chomping away. After a minute Becca said, “I still can’t believe you met Plain Jane.”
“I didn’t actually meet the whole band,” I said between bites. “Just Jane.”
Becca laughed. “Katie, she is the band. She’s the lead singer and she writes the songs. It’s all her.”
“I guess.” After a few more bites, I decided to bring up the topic of conversation that I’d been thinking about all day, and the reason I decided to get there early. “So, speaking of writing songs, I was … I think we should write one for the talent show.”
Becca stopped eating and looked at me. “Write a song? Us?”
“Yeah.”
She laughed. “I don’t know. I’m not a songwriter. I’m not even a real musician, the way you are. I’m a basketball player who plays a little bit of guitar.”
“That’s not true.”
“Besides, at talent shows people want to hear songs they know,” Becca said. “What if we write something terrible and everyone laughs at us?”
I was afraid of that, too, but I remembered what Jane said about taking chances and tried to put any doubts out of my head. “That won’t happen,” I said.
She put the milk away just as the doorbell rang. “Let’s ask Jackie and Sammie.”
I felt myself getting frustrated. “I don’t care about Jackie and Sammie, Becca. I want to know what you think. You and I started this band, and we can decide what we want to play. Doing an original song would be so fun and cool. I know it’s risky. But let’s do it.” I saved the best for last. “And guess what? If it’s good, Jane said she would listen to it!”
Becca laughed. “Oh, right,” she said. “Jane Plantero is going to listen to some song written by a couple of kids. Why would she do that? Just because she went to the same school as us?”
“Because she said she would,” I insisted.
“Whatever,” Becca said. “Let’s just go rehearse.”
The front door opened, and Jackie and Sammie came into the room. “Froot Loops!” Sammie yelled excitedly.
“Help yourself,” said Becca, getting the milk out again. But her smile was a little forced, and I could tell she was kind of mad at me.
As the other girls chomped away, I pulled Becca aside. “I saw Jane up there, and as I watched her, singing her own songs, it was like I was watching a dream,” I whispered. “And it made me realize dreams come true. We can do this. I know we can.”
Becca started putting the bowls in the dishwasher. “Well, maybe that’s the thing.”
“What’s the thing?”
She stopped and looked at me.
“Your dream might not be my dream,” she said.
We rehearsed for an hour and a half, and neither of us said another word about writing songs.