Friday, June 17

LOCATION: Beacon Theatre—New York City

I wish I had a helicopter like Mac Attack did in my comic book. I would have whisked Thunder and Lightning away before they started playing Kyle’s song at Good Day USA last week.

If I had, some ridiculous vlogger, who calls herself Bad Kitty, wouldn’t have grainy video footage of the PS and T and L fight backstage. Scarlet and Iris found her vlog when they were doing their daily PS search online. It’s Bad Kitty’s only post, but it already has thousands of views.

Bad Kitty wore big, black sunglasses that hid most of her face and a hoodie with cat ears that covered her hair. Her nose and cheeks were painted to look like she had whiskers, too.

“Hey, kitties!” the vlogger purred. “Bad Kitty here, your new music guru, with a catfight alert! Is anyone else over Zander Welling, Heath Holland, and Kyle Beyer of Perfect Storm? I am!” She raised her hand. “They’re never going to be huge when they don’t treat their fans right. I’ve heard from numerous sources that the guys don’t appreciate their followers. They actually ignore fans when they approach them on the street! Hiss!” She clawed at the screen. “Who needs that when new band Thunder and Lightning is the exact opposite?” Bad Kitty was sitting in a dark room, so you couldn’t see much around her, but she had a spotlight on a Thunder and Lightning poster. I couldn’t believe those guys already had their own poster! “These two sweet brothers—Jeremy and Cody Callum—had their first performance on Good Day USA last week, and their song, ‘The Story of a Girl,’ has gone viral! The guys have a record deal with Rock Starz, the same label as PS, and are heading out on the road soon. We hear PS is super jealous of the guys’ song and is trying to get it pulled. Don’t let it happen! Watch T and L’s YouTube clip, and demand to be heard, cats!” Bad Kitty pawed at the screen with her super-long dark purple nails. “You can also—”

Scarlet clicked off the video. “It’s not their song! This is why I hate cats. They’re mean!”

“Shouldn’t a vlogger know the facts before she posts videos?” Iris was angry, too. “She should be fired from her own vlog!”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Jilly pried the tablet from Iris’s hands, which wasn’t easy to do. All those years of tae kwon do have made her really strong. “You can’t get caught up in what one blogger says anyway,” she told us, sounding a lot like a mini version of her dad. “No one will pay any attention to some silly girl in a cat hoodie.”

But the media did pay attention. Bad Kitty’s video began popping up on entertainment shows and music blogs. It even had a link on CNN’s website. (“I told you this would happen!” Scarlet freaked out. “You need to call Nicole, Ryan, and Stanley T. at The Morning Mash Up on SiriusXM immediately!” Iris added. “They can tell the world PS’s side of the story.”) But Briggs didn’t listen to my friends. Within days, everyone was talking about Thunder and Lightning’s song “The Story of a Girl.” And the worst part was, Rock Starz wanted to keep the truth about the tune being Kyle’s quiet! Briggs and Ronald met with the label to hash out an agreement, and Briggs was not happy with the results. I’m not sure of all the legal lingo—I yawn when my grandparents watch Law & Order—but I do know that Kyle gets songwriting credit on “The Story of a Girl.” Yay! But it’s Thunder and Lightning’s version that will be released, since it already went viral. Boo! The guys have been in such foul moods I haven’t talked to Kyle in days (although I did text him a picture I drew of PS in superhero costumes, and he texted back a happy-face emoji).

And things were still going from bad to worse.

“What do you think of the name ‘Sizzling Summer Boys Tour’?” Mom asked one night while I was working on my comic. She made a bizarre face that I associate with bad news. “It’s the name of the Perfect Storm–slash–Thunder and Lightning tour.”

“WHAT?” I Hulked out, slamming the table so hard my sketchbook slid off. “They can’t go on tour together!”

“It’s not ideal, but Briggs and I don’t know what else to do,” Mom said grimly. “The label thinks a ten-city East Coast tour will benefit both bands.” I opened my mouth to argue. “The media coverage has upped the profile of each group. Now the label wants them to make nice on tour and stop taking swipes at each other in the press.”

“But they can’t stand each other,” I reminded Mom. “They’re going to get into fights, the media is going to report it, the guys are going to be miserable, and…” This tour did not sound fun. I couldn’t picture Kyle laughing with me on the bus, or Heath shooting spitballs at Briggs, or Jilly and me facing off against the guys at a game of mini golf. Not with the boys in their current mood. I was about to say all that when I stopped short.

Had I lost my mind? Was I really about to suggest we NOT go on the road with my favorite band in the world? The guys NEEDED me now more than ever! I could be their lighthouse in the storm on this tour. (Oooh! That was a great idea for a new PS tee. A lighthouse guiding a ship through a major storm. I needed to get on that.)

Mom hugged me. “I know with you on the road with them, Perfect Storm will cheer up in no time.” She looked at me. “This is going to be a challenging tour. I’m counting on you to be a mini tour manager for me.”

“I get a title?” I pictured my new pass: ASSISTANT TOUR MANAGER MACKENZIE S. LOWELL. Pink glitter paint would make those words pop.

Mom laughed. “Well, unofficially, but I mean it. I need you to be my eyes and ears on the road. Don’t let Thunder and Lightning get to Perfect Storm.”

“I can do that,” I said, saluting Mom for added effect.

“Then I can handle catching up on this week’s episodes of Life After Life and ordering in takeout from La Piazza for dinner,” Mom said.

Things were starting to look up.

Or so I thought. Darn Madam Celeste!

When Jeremy and Cody Callum showed up for our first Sizzling Summer Boys Tour appearance at the Beacon Theatre in New York, Lola Cummings was with them.

“Aww, look! If it isn’t the Perfect Storm fan club.” Lola walked toward us in heels so high I thought they were stilts. Her cheetah print pants clashed in a cool way against her leopard print top.

“I guess Perfect Storm fans are dropping like flies now that the world knows how they treat their fans,” Jeremy sneered. “You two are the only ones they seem to have left.”

Jilly folded her arms across her chest and glared at T and L. Jilly was five feet of pure fury. Cody seemed a tad scared of her. “The only reason there aren’t fans here right now is because there is no meet and greet backstage tonight. With all these lies about PS out there, everyone backstage needs to sign a confidentiality agreement now. We don’t want anything else of PS’s stolen.” She looked pointedly at Jeremy.

“Who would want those losers’ leftovers?” Jeremy asked. Jilly lunged at him.

Mikey G. appeared. “Problem?” He would have looked menacing if he wasn’t in the middle of eating one of his beloved WHEY OUT! protein bars. I thought WHEY OUT! smelled like glue. Mikey G. once offered me a piece of one, and it tasted like glue, too.

“She didn’t sign a confidentiality agreement.” Jilly pointed to Lola, who began to protest when Mikey G. gently took her by the arm. Jeremy didn’t protest when he saw Mikey G. charging Lola’s way.

“I’m not signing a confidentiality agreement!” she said stiffly, and that’s all Mikey G. had to hear before he led her out a side door and onto an Upper West Side sidewalk.

In the middle of the commotion, I saw Cody turn to Jilly. “Cool kicks,” he said quietly. I looked down at Jilly’s sneakers—one was pink and the other was white. They both had sparkly silver laces.

“Meep!” Jilly sounded like an alien. “I mean, you’re not allowed to like my shoes!” Then Jilly started coughing so hard I thought she was going to throw up. Cody walked away, and Mikey G. raised an eyebrow at me.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

“I must be allergic to Cody’s cologne,” Jilly said.

“Or to Cody,” Mikey G. joked, and we both laughed.

“Did you fill out a confidentiality agreement?” she asked me stormily. We stopped laughing. “Everyone needs one. I already did mine.”

I was the tour manager’s daughter. Why would I need a confidentiality agreement? “Ummm…” Mikey G. was staring at me like he had Lola. “I’ll do it now. I would never do anything to hurt PS.”

I imagined myself in a courtroom signing the agreement in front of Perfect Storm and onlookers. An image of my journal lying in the recording studio flashed through my head. “At least not on purpose,” I added.

“What does that mean?” Mikey G. asked darkly.

“I think you need to tell Mikey G. what happened—or didn’t happen,” Jilly said. I protested. “Maybe he can help you keep it from happening—or not happening—again.”

Mikey G. took another bite of his bar. “I’m very confused.”

Jilly was right. Mikey G. was the best bodyguard I knew. Well, he was the only bodyguard I knew, but still! Maybe if I let him look after my journal when I wasn’t writing in it, I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone getting their hands on it again. If someone even got their hands on it in the first place, and… Oh, this was so confusing! I looked around the crowded area. Mom hurried by, calling out orders. People were shouting for equipment and craft services spreads. I couldn’t talk about this here. I pulled Jilly and Mikey G. out the side door he’d just pushed Lola through.

“If I tell you something, you have to swear on your love of all things PS that you will never breathe a word of this to another soul,” I said.

Mikey G. exhaled sharply. “You didn’t write another one of those poems asking the guys to a dance, did you?”

Once again my face felt like it was boiling. “How did you… NO! I did not write anyone a letter.” Jilly tried not to laugh.

Mikey G. took another bite of his WHEY OUT! bar. “Spill.”

Better to just blurt it out and get it over with. “I may have accidentally left my journal with Kyle’s lyrics for ‘The Story of a Girl’ in the recording studio.”

“YOU DID WHAT?” Mikey G. yelled. People walking by on the street gave us nervous glances.

“No one took it,” Jilly said quickly. “We don’t think.” Mikey G. raised an eyebrow. “Mac’s mom found the journal when she went back to grab something later.”

“At least someone was thinking,” Mikey G. said.

My eyes narrowed. “That horrible moment made me realize how valuable my journal is. I write in it almost every day about everything that happens on the road. If it fell into the wrong hands, people would know all kinds of secrets about the guys.”

“Maybe the best thing to do is to stop writing in your journal,” Jilly suggested.

“Stop writing?” I repeated in shock.

“She’s an artist,” Mikey G. explained to Jilly. “She lives to create.”

I felt myself get a little misty. Mikey G. got me. “Thanks. I always thought—”

He cut me off. “But it’s dumb to carry something that valuable around. If you were to lose it, it could be a disaster.”

“I know,” I said with a sigh. “What am I going to do?”

“Let me hold on to it,” he said, taking it from my hands before I had time to react. “When you want to write in it, I’ll give it to you.”

“Okay.” I looked longingly at the journal in Mikey G.’s hands. I was a little nervous knowing I wouldn’t always have it at my fingertips. What if Mikey G. read it? What if he left it out and Kyle read it? Or Heath? I’d never live it down! “But don’t read it,” I blurted out. “It’s private.”

“I know,” Mikey G. deadpanned. “I have no interest in reading it, and I don’t want anyone else reading it, either. That’s why I’m hiding it in my Life After Life DVD case.” He sized up my journal with his beefy hands. “No one will look in that thing.”

“That’s for sure,” Jilly said with a snort, and Mikey G. and I glared at her. “I mean, I like the show, but it’s not my favorite. Geez.”

As Kyle would say, Mikey G.’s hiding place was “brill.” “Thanks, Mikey G.”

His serious expression turned into a slow smile. Then he fist-bumped me. “Don’t worry. I’d do anything for the boys and you. I’ve got your back.”