Olivia and Claire were a bit surprised about the whole Regan-coming-to-practice thing, but not overly freaked out. In spite of what Regan had done last year, Olivia still clung to her belief that everyone was really good deep down, and Claire had actually been friends with Regan last year prior to Regan’s forbidding her to sing with Pandora’s Box. Claire acknowledged that Regan did have a side to her that Claire had liked, and she was willing to forgive last year’s mistakes if Regan truly was trying to be a better person. Paris, as usual, was chill about anything and everything, and besides, she had heard about Regan and the Bots only secondhand from Robbie, so she hadn’t really been involved in last year’s drama.
Robbie, though, showed up at practice on high alert for anything Regan might try to pull. She was certain that Regan would, indeed, pull something.
“Maybe she’s not coming after all,” Tig said around 4:10.
“Good,” said Robbie. But Tig thought Robbie seemed a little disappointed. She’d shown up ready to protect her territory, and now it looked as though there would be no one to protect it from.
“She may have had something else to do,” said Claire. “Maybe we should just get on with practice.”
The girls agreed and started “Signed, Sealed, Delivered.” Claire was really loosening up and becoming more of a performer in addition to being an incredible singer. She even threw in a “yeah, yeah, yeah” while the girls sang the backup chorus. Paris was solid on bass; Robbie and Olivia, as always, handled their parts to perfection; and Tig nailed the phrasing on the toms during the chorus.
They were so into the song, they didn’t even notice Regan standing in the doorway until she started clapping at the end. “Woo!” Regan said. “That was awesome! How do y’all do that?”
The girls stopped and said hello. “You want a drink or something?” Tig said, pointing to the mini-fridge her grandmother had recently bought for her at a garage sale.
“Sure, thanks,” Regan said. She took a bottle of soda out of the fridge and sat down in the empty saucer chair in front of the band.
“By the way, this is Paris,” Tig said. “Paris Nichols, Regan Hoffman.”
“S’up, Regan?” Paris said.
“Good to meet you,” Regan replied. “So, what else do y’all know how to play?”
The band struck up “For Your Love” and then “Twist and Shout.” Tig was pleased that they had to restart both songs only once. “These are new ones for us,” she explained to Regan.
“Don’t apologize—you sound great!”
Regan’s praise loosened the girls up, and once they were over their self-consciousness at playing in front of her, they were able to run through the entire set list. It sounded pretty good. Not as good as they would be in a couple more weeks, but still pretty good.
“Whew!” Tig said. “That’s a wrap for today. Good job, ladies.”
The girls clapped a little bit for themselves and high-fived.
“All of you are so good,” Regan said. “Robbie, where’d you learn to play guitar like that?”
“Lessons,” Robbie said flatly.
“Well, I’m sure that a lot of what you do can’t be taught just in lessons. You’re a natural rock star. The way you handle yourself while you’re playing is really cool.”
“Thanks,” Robbie said. Tig could tell she didn’t want to be sucked in by Regan’s flattery, but how could she not enjoy it? Especially when it was all true.
“Ooh, my mom’s pulling up,” said Olivia. She took a drink from the mini-fridge. “I’ll take this one for the road. Later!” Claire’s mom wasn’t far behind. Soon it was just Robbie and Paris and Regan and Tig.
While Robbie and Paris played around with the guitar and bass, Tig showed Regan around her family’s property. “We call this building ‘the studio’ because it’s our practice area, but really it was a mother-in-law apartment built by the people who lived here before us.”
“Cool,” said Regan. “Show me your room?”
“Sure,” said Tig.
In Tig’s room, Regan went straight for the bookshelf. “Oh man! You still have these?”
Tig was embarrassed to see that Regan had picked up a collection of fairy books she’d read in elementary school. She’d gotten a cutesy little boxed set back in fourth grade that, for whatever reason, was still sitting on her shelf. Maybe it had been there so long, she didn’t even really see it anymore, or maybe she had loved it so much, she just couldn’t bear to part with it, even long after she’d stopped holding out hope that fairies were real. “I forgot that was even there,” Tig said. “I liked those back when I was a kid.”
“Oh, me too!” Regan said.
“You did?”
“Totally!” Regan said. “I even set my dollhouse out in my backyard, hoping that fairies would find it and move in and then be my friends.”
“Really?” Tig was surprised that Regan would not only do something so silly but freely admit to it.
“Yeah!” Regan laughed. “I kind of forgot it was out there, and I left it for a few days, and it rained all over it. Pretty much ruined it. My mom was so mad!”
“No fairies moved in, I guess?”
“Unfortunately not.” Regan smiled. “Hey, thanks again for letting me come over today to watch your practice. I really enjoyed it.”
“We don’t stink, then?”
“Not hardly,” Regan said. “I’m sorry I gave y’all a hard time last year. You’re really good.”
“Well, last year, we did stink. But we’re getting better. And our new bass player helps a lot. She’s great.”
“She seems nice,” Regan said. “It’s cool that you’re all such good friends, too.”
“It’s the best,” Tig agreed.
“How’s everything with Olivia?” Regan asked. “Does she suspect that you like Will?”
“I never said I liked Will,” Tig replied.
“Okay, okay,” Regan said. “But I wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’s a little hottie.”
Tig smiled. “He’s Olivia’s boyfriend.”
“Right,” Regan said. “Let’s just keep repeating that: He’s Olivia’s boyfriend. He’s Olivia’s boyfriend. Oops! Guess what? Still a little hottie.”
Tig laughed. “I’m not crushing on Will.”
“I admire you for that,” said Regan. “Especially when it’s so obvious that he’s crushing on you.”
“You think so?” Tig asked—a little too quickly.
“I know so,” Regan said. “It’s painfully obvious. I can’t believe Olivia doesn’t see it.”
Suddenly there was a knock on Tig’s open door. Paris was making sure Tig and Regan noticed that she was standing there.
“Oh!” Tig said. “Hey, Paris.”
“Hey,” Paris replied. “Robbie left. My mom texted she was running a little late, so I just came in here to see what y’all were doing.”
“Nothing,” said Tig. “We’re not doing anything.” Could you possibly sound any more guilty? Tig said to herself.
“We were just talking about fairy books,” Regan said, holding up the book collection to Paris. “Did you ever read these when you were little?”
“No,” Paris said. “I must’ve missed those.”
“Tig and I loved them,” Regan said. “I was telling her about how I had put my dollhouse outside, and then it rained. . . .” Regan’s phone buzzed. “My mom’s outside,” she said. “Thanks again for letting me watch practice. Catch y’all later.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Tig said. Just before Regan got into her mom’s car, Tig asked, “Do you think Paris heard us talking about Will?”
Regan grimaced. “I don’t know. Tig, I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was standing there. Honest.”
“It’s okay,” Tig said. But she thought back to Robbie’s warning that Regan would come to practice only to cause trouble. Had Regan intentionally brought up Will because she knew Paris would overhear them?
When Tig went back inside, Paris was looking at the fairy books. “These are cute,” Paris said. “The little illustrations—”
“How long were you standing at the door?” Tig said. She hoped it didn’t sound confrontational; she just couldn’t stand not knowing.
“Just a little while,” Paris said.
“Did you, um . . .”
Paris set the books down on Tig’s desk. “Yeah,” she said, “I heard y’all talking about Will.”
Tig threw her head back, covered her face, and groaned.
“I’m not going to tell Olivia,” Paris said. “Or Robbie. Or anyone else.”
“I don’t want to hurt Olivia,” Tig said. “I’ve been trying to keep my distance from Will. Really, I have.”
“I believe you,” Paris said. “I know you wouldn’t hurt Olivia.”
“I try my best not to even think about him,” Tig said. “But then Olivia insisted he tutor me in algebra, and then there we were in the library after school, just the two of us, and his eyes were so blue, and . . . oh, Paris! I’m a terrible friend!”
“No, you’re not,” Paris said. “There’s an old saying: ‘The heart wants what it wants.’”
“What does it mean?”
“It means it’s awfully hard to talk your heart out of something. Your heart makes up its own mind.”
“I’m a middle-school girl,” Tig said. “I’m supposed to be notoriously fickle. I’ll be over this in a week or two, right?”
“You might if you weren’t trying so hard,” Paris said, smiling.
“But I have to try!” Tig said. “You want to hear something crazy?”
“Shoot.”
“Last year Will liked me, and I kind of liked him, too. But I knew Olivia was crazy about him, so I pushed him her way. I’m pretty much the one who set them up.”
“You want to hear another old saying?” Paris asked.
“Shoot,” Tig said again.
“‘No good deed goes unpunished.’”