Magic.
That was what it was. Magic.
By English class two periods later, the whole drama about whether Kyra would play the reunion was, as Paris would’ve said, yesterday’s cornbread.
And Tig hadn’t even had to sweet-talk her.
One word from Regan, and Kyra had not only agreed to play the gig, she’d also apologized to Tig for the way she’d acted that morning. And she’d said she didn’t want to play more than one song at the show and that she knew that would be the end of her association with Pandora’s Box and she was fine with it. She further promised that there would be no more outbursts, manipulations, or wheedling of any kind to try to get back in. In fact, after Kyra’s admission that the whole thing had been all her fault from the get-go—from not practicing and forcing Tig to kick her out of the band to the way she’d acted earlier that day in the gym—Kyra seemed to have no more interest whatsoever in discussing the band or anything to do with the band. And all this had happened before Mrs. Thompson even went over the bell-ringer activity. It was as though none of it had even happened.
Their English class was reading Julius Caesar, a Shakespeare play about ancient Romans who kill this guy Caesar because they think he’s going to try to become king. One of the guys who stabs Caesar is his best friend, Brutus, so Mrs. Thompson made a whole big deal about the fact that Caesar feels totally betrayed by his friend. Tig sort of thought the whole getting-stabbed-to-death thing might be a bigger deal than betrayal, but she figured English teachers had to find something in stories besides the obvious if they wanted to keep their jobs.
For class that day, everyone had to get up and recite something they’d memorized from the play. They had a choice between a speech from Brutus, a speech from this other friend of Caesar who hadn’t stabbed him, or a speech from Caesar about not fearing death. Tig had chosen the last one because it was the shortest.
“‘Cowards die many times before their deaths,’” Tig said when it was her turn. She didn’t really mind having to speak in front of the class; no one was paying much attention anyway. And she sort of liked the message of her recitation: the guy was basically saying that there’s no reason to fear death because it will happen at some point anyway, and if you sit around being scared of it, it’s sort of like you’re dying a little death all the time. Might as well quit thinking about it, live your life without worrying, and die just that once instead of a bunch of mini-deaths in your imagination.
“Good job, Antigone,” said Mrs. Thompson. She called up the next person.
As Tig walked back to her seat, Kyra high-fived her. Tig couldn’t believe Kyra was over it all, and so quickly. Regan was very good at what she did, whatever it was.
Later at lunch, Tig looked over to the Bots’ table and found Regan’s eyes. Tig shrugged and held up her palms in a “how did this happen?” manner, and Regan just smiled and gave a thumbs-up.
Thanking Regan had to wait until the next day because the only class she and Tig had together was math. Tig was waiting when Regan came into the room. “I totally flubbed that Julius Caesar speech in Mrs. Thompson’s class yesterday,” Regan said. She had Mrs. Thompson’s English class a different period than Tig did. “I did the Brutus one. Which one did you do?”
“I did Caesar’s,” Tig said. “It was the shortest.”
“Oh yeah, that cowards die bunches of times thing,” Regan said. “I should’ve done that.”
Tig couldn’t wait through any more small talk. “How’d you do it?”
“After the whole ‘as he was ambitious, I slew him’ part, I went completely blank!”
“No, not the recitation,” Tig said. “How’d you do it?”
“Do what?” Regan replied. “Oh, you mean that thing with Kyra? Piece of cake.”
“What’d you say to her?”
“Nothing special. I just told her that I’d heard she was being a pain to you and to cut it out.”
“That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
Tig just stared at Regan for a moment.
“What?” Regan said.
“I don’t get it,” Tig said. “What makes you so powerful?”
Regan laughed. “I don’t know. But it comes in handy sometimes.”
“I’ll say.” Tig paused before continuing. “Thank you.”
Regan smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“Is that all there is to it?”
“What do you mean? Was I supposed to say something other than ‘you’re welcome’?”
“No, I mean, is that all there is to this? I just say thank you and we’re square? Don’t I owe you something?”
Regan laughed again. “No charge. And tipping is not required.”
“You know what I mean,” said Tig. “Don’t I have to do something for you now because you did something for me? I’ve got to be on the hook somehow.”
“There’s no hook,” Regan said. “Sheesh. If anything, I probably owed you this one little favor for being such a jerk last year.”
“I just don’t get why you’re being nice to me all of a sudden.”
“Can’t a person grow? Maybe I’ve become enlightened.”
Tig grinned. “Maybe. If that’s the case, I like Enlightened Regan way better than Jerk Regan.”
“Join the club.”
Will came in and sat down in his usual seat. “Olivia said it’s all worked out with Kyra.”
“Yeah,” Tig said. “We may actually have a functioning band at the moment.”
“So this Paris chick is playing bass now?” Will asked.
“Yep. She’s good, too.”
“I thought she was going to be rhythm guitar?” he said.
“That was the original plan, until we were down a bass player. Paris stepped up. We can manage without rhythm guitar for now.”
“Who’re you going to get for that?” said Will.
“Ugh!” Tig said. “Who knows? One problem at a time. I just got Kyra off my back. Let me revel in it for just a little while.”
Will laughed. “Fair enough. You’re pretty lucky that Robbie found Paris when she did.”
Tig nodded. As the teacher began the day’s lesson, Tig’s mind stayed on what Will had just said. He was right: she was very lucky that Paris had come along. She was great on the bass and had been supercool about all the drama so far, even though she didn’t have to be. It was now obvious to Tig why Robbie liked her so much. Maybe, in time, she and Paris would become close friends too.
And while Tig’s mind was on the subject of friends, what about this new friendship with Regan?
There had to be a catch. Could there really be such a thing as Enlightened Regan?
Even though Regan had said Tig didn’t owe her anything, Tig felt somehow obligated. Not so much in the sense of needing to pay off a debt, but more in the sense that one kindness deserved another.
“Hey,” Tig said to Regan as the students filed out of the classroom. “Would you want to come by my house and watch band practice sometime? Just kind of hang out with us?”
Regan looked surprised. “Yeah,” she said. “That’d be really cool. I’d love to.”
“We usually do every Thursday starting around four,” Tig said. “If for some reason that changes, I’ll let you know. But feel free to drop by if you want.”
“I’ll do that,” said Regan. “Oh, and I’ll bring Haley and Sofia.”
Tig’s eyes got big. “Uh, uh . . .,” she stuttered.
“Kidding!” Regan said. “Bots can operate independently sometimes. Catch you later!”
As she watched Regan walk away, Tig stood, stunned. “They know we call them Bots?” she said out loud to no one in particular.