Friday, July 8—aka THE NEVER-ENDING DAY

LOCATION: MY WORST NIGHTMARE (otherwise known as the Hilton, whose ballroom Mom turned into our Perfect Storm center)

“You told Bad Kitty about my stuffed-animal collection?” Heath freaked out on me.

“And that my fear of the color green started because I was scared of Oscar the Grouch as a kid?” Zander asked.

“My mum is happy that the world knows I call her five times a day,” Kyle said to no one in particular. “Me, not so much.”

Heath went on. “And that I’m happy to be the background singer because that lets me get away with whatever I want?”

Heath tossed out more things Bad Kitty said I supposedly told her. My eyes welled with tears.

Mom and Briggs were trying to handle the media requests for comments about the fight at the Popstar! photo shoot. Jeremy had broken his nose and wouldn’t be able to perform for the next few days. I could have sworn I heard Briggs whisper the word “lawsuit,” but my mom was way too busy to talk to me. And I was in too much hot water of my own to even ask her.

“How do we know you didn’t come on this tour to spy on us?” Zander asked.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Jilly jumped in. “Are you saying Mac’s mom took the job with you guys so her daughter could give information to a sketchy vlogger? Have you guys lost your minds? This is Mac we’re talking about!”

Zander looked at me. Really looked at me, and frowned again. “How well do we even know Mac? I thought you were our Yoko Ono, but maybe it’s more like you’re our Yoko No-No.”

It was like being punched in the stomach. “That was harsh,” I said. “If you’d just listen… I didn’t give Bad Kitty dirt on you guys! I don’t even know Bad Kitty. Someone is setting me up!” My life really was becoming like a law show. I might need to call Grandma for advice when this conversation ended.

“What about that journal you’re always writing in?” Heath asked, and my stomach began to twist in knots. “Do you write about us?”

They all stared at me. “Yes, but…”

“AHA! So you’ve written down how I sleep with stuffed tigers and elephants,” Heath said.

“Elephants?” Kyle repeated.

Heath blushed. “Dumbo is cool.”

“I write about things that happen to me, and sometimes those things include you guys, but my journal is always on me or being guarded,” I explained.

“Guarded?” Kyle asked.

“You guys don’t have to worry. Mikey G. hangs on to it for her,” Jilly said. “Mac has been super careful since her journal went missing that night at the recording studio when Thunder and Lightning stole your song.” She covered her mouth in horror.

Everyone got quiet except me. “JILLY!”

“Sorry!” Jilly backpedaled. “It was only lost for a few minutes, I think.”

But it was too late. All the guys were yelling, and I was yelling back. We were talking over each other, and I couldn’t even make out what anyone was saying till I heard Kyle speak up.

“Did you have the lyrics for ‘The Story of a Girl’ in your journal?” Kyle asked quietly. Everyone stopped talking and looked at me. That’s when I cracked.

“Yes,” I said in a wobbly voice. Kyle’s face fell, and Zander and Heath exhaled sharply. “But it was only gone a few minutes. My mom grabbed it when she went back to get something. I don’t think they got the lyrics from my journal.”

“But you don’t know for sure,” Heath pointed out.

“Guys, you’re acting crazy,” Jilly said. “Mac was the one who helped you get back together a few months ago! Now you think she’s trying to sabotage you? Bad Kitty is the one trying to destroy you—not Mac—and I’m thisclose to figuring out who that cat is. I just need a few more hours to do it.”

Jilly was on to Bad Kitty? She hadn’t said a word to me about this. Then again, we had been kind of busy with the worst Popstar! photo shoot ever and the mechanical-bull disaster.

“When we find out who she is, I’m sure all this stuff will make sense.” Jilly looked fierce. “We are taking Bad Kitty down. She’s the real enemy!”

Zander ignored her. “It had to be your journal. You were the only other person who had the lyrics that night. We took the other copies with us when we left the studio. We aren’t stupid enough to leave them hanging around.”

“Stupid?” My eyes twitched. The band I loved more than almost anything else in this world (other than Mom, Iris, Scarlet, and Jilly, of course) was looking at me with such anger, I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as them. Especially not when I saw Kyle’s face. It said it all. Madam Celeste had seen the storm coming, and I had completely ignored it. “You guys don’t trust me.”

“Mac…,” Jilly started to say.

“No, it’s true,” I said shakily. “It doesn’t matter what I tell you right now. You guys don’t trust me.” Heath looked at his fingernails, which were painted a deep purple. “I thought after all the time we’d spent on the road together, you knew I always had your backs.” Zander stared at the ceiling. “But I guess I’m just another fan.”

“Mac,” Kyle tried to butt in.

“Maybe that’s what I should go back to being.” My lips quivered. “Maybe it would be a good idea if I left the tour.”

I waited to see if one of them would protest. To see if Kyle would throw himself across the table and shout “NOOOOOO!” Instead, all I could hear was Briggs and Mom on their phones. They had no idea what the guys and I were talking about.

“We’ll cover Jeremy’s hospital bills,” we heard Briggs say. “Do whatever it takes to keep that nose of his from winding up in a Bad Kitty vlog. That kitty is going to ruin all our careers!”

I knew the boys thought this was my fault. “I’m out of here.” I rushed out of the room before they could see me cry and went up an escalator to the main lobby of the hotel. It was crowded with people. A high school band was in town for a competition. A convention had just let out, and people in suits with shiny name tags walked by talking about where they could eat. I just wanted to disappear. Where could I go? My hotel room was the first place they’d look.

“Hey, Mac! You okay?” I ran into Mikey G. carrying a huge box of WHEY OUT! bars.

“I’m fine.” I wiped away my tears. “Don’t say you saw me, okay?” Mikey G. nodded. “I just need some peace and quiet to think.”

“You can have the bus to yourself if you want,” Mikey G. said. “I’m on my way there to drop off these bars and then the place is all yours.” He shifted the large box in his arms. “I could use the help getting on the bus actually.” He blushed. “These WHEY OUT! boxes are so huge, I can’t open the door by myself. I have to leave the bus unlocked when I go pick up a delivery so I can just nudge the door open when I get back and get inside.”

“You leave the bus unlocked?” I said slowly.

“For ten minutes max,” Mikey G. reassured me. “And only when I get a WHEY OUT! bar delivery. I have no clue who is sending me these things, but I love that they come every week like clockwork! I have four cases on the bus already!”

THAT WAS IT! The tour bus was unlocked. That had to be how Bad Kitty was getting her hands on my journal, and the bus was unlocked right now! I could catch that kitty in the act if I hurried! “I’ll meet you at the bus!” I yelled to Mikey G., and then I pushed my way through the crowd again, banging into a boy carrying a tuba, and hit the button for the elevators to go down to the garage. The tour buses were all parked on the lower level.

I could have sworn I heard someone calling my name, but I had to be wrong. I was in PS exile. Heath was probably having Briggs make up WANTED posters with my mug on it. When the elevator opened, I jumped inside and hit the close button frantically, but the elevator wouldn’t listen. It took its sweet time, and that’s when someone’s pale arm appeared between the closing doors.

“Mac!” Kyle was out of breath. “I’ve been chasing you”—DEEP BREATHING—“through the lobby. Blimey, you’re fast.” The doors shut behind him.

“Just go back to the guys and leave me alone,” I said, but it was too late. The elevator whisked us away from the loud lobby, and I grew silent. I could hear the sound of Kyle’s shallow breathing. I don’t think the boy ran much. “I would never give Thunder and Lightning your song,” I blurted out. “You wrote it for me! Why would I want stupid Jeremy and Cody Callum singing it instead of you?!”

Kyle touched my arm. “I know you didn’t give them my song. I don’t think you talked to Bad Kitty about us, either.”

“I didn’t—What did you just say?” I stopped yelling. “You believe me?”

“Of course I believe you,” Kyle said. “That’s what I told the guys before I ran after you. I said, ‘Mac is the most loyal mate we’ve got, and we should trust her over some vlogger we don’t even know.’” Kyle’s eyes were magnetic, and I couldn’t stop staring. “I know you’d never want someone else singing your song. Even if T and L did find lyrics in your journal, it was an accident. You guard that thing with your life.” He looked at our shoes. “I just hate that the song was written for you and now that jerk Cody gets to sing it instead.”

Aww… was Kyle jealous of Cody? Did that mean Kyle could possibly, maybe, just a smidge, like me as more than a friend?

I grabbed Kyle’s hand before I could overthink it. “Then let him sing it. You’re going to write an even better song, and when you do, I want to be the first one who hears it.” We stood there and grinned goofily at each other until the elevator doors opened. I could hear someone singing in the distance. I almost forgot why I was rushing down here in the first place. To catch Bad Kitty!

Kyle frowned. “Do you hear someone singing my song?”

I pulled Kyle out of the elevator to listen. No doubt about it. It was Jeremy Callum! Was he Bad Kitty? “If he’s in so much pain from breaking his nose, should he really be singing?” I wondered aloud.

Kyle grabbed my arm, and we quietly made our way behind parked cars until we got close enough to the tour buses to see. Kyle pulled us behind a minivan, where we had a perfect view. There was Jeremy Callum in a red hoodie. He was black and blue around his nose, but he was clearly well enough to stand outside the Perfect Storm tour bus and sing “The Story of a Girl”!

I watched as Jeremy knocked on the door to the PS tour bus. “Hurry up!” I heard him hiss. “He’ll be back soon.”

Mikey G. was probably still struggling with his WHEY OUT! bars, and I realized Jeremy knew that, too. He must have been the one sending Mikey G. the bars in the first place. It was all starting to make sense!

“Calm down! I’ve got it.” A girl in a black hoodie walked off the tour bus carrying the Life After Life DVD case. It was Bad Kitty, and it was clear that she knew Jeremy and they both knew exactly where to go to find dirt on Perfect Storm!

“MY JOURNAL!” I whisper-shouted. I took a leap forward, and Kyle held me back. He covered my mouth with his free hand, and we watched as Jeremy and Bad Kitty started flipping through my journal pages, taking pictures of the new entries with her camera phone. When they were done, they stuck the journal back in the DVD case, and Bad Kitty put it back inside the tour bus.

I was so angry I could have breathed fire. Jeremy and Bad Kitty were working together! The picture was becoming clear now. Jeremy hated Perfect Storm as much as Bad Kitty did. Now they were using my journal entries (which are written out of love, I might add) to try to destroy my favorite band!

It was time to confront them. “I need to see who is under that hood,” I whispered, trying to get away from Kyle (for probably the first and only time in my life!).

“Think for a second!” Kyle whispered in my ear (IN MY EAR!). “We need proof. And backup. We can’t take them on alone.” I tried to protest. “Now that we know they’re working together, we need a plan to stop them.” He grinned. “You know they’re going to strike again, and next time, we’ll finish off all of that cat’s nine lives.”