Olivia called Tig the next afternoon, crying.
“What’s wrong?” Tig asked, as if she didn’t already know.
“Will,” Olivia said. She blurted out other words, but Tig couldn’t understand any of them. Olivia was too beside herself.
“Calm down,” Tig said. “I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”
“Will broke up with me,” Olivia said, this time more clearly.
“Oh,” Tig said. “I’m sorry, Olivia.” If only you knew just how sorry, Tig thought.
“Did he say why?” It was Claire’s voice. Tig hadn’t realized it was a conference call.
Olivia cried a little more, then gathered herself enough to say, “He said it wasn’t me; it was him. What is that supposed to mean?” Olivia cried still more. “Of course it’s me! He doesn’t like me. Why doesn’t he like me? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you, Olivia,” Claire said. “Boys can just be such losers sometimes!”
Tig started to defend Will, to insist that not having feelings for someone didn’t make him a loser, but she feared that she might give herself away. The part she was expected to play here was the sympathizing shoulder to cry on, who insists that the ex wasn’t good enough for her brokenhearted friend in the first place. But Tig couldn’t in good conscience say anything bad about Will, so she just kept saying she was sorry.
No one lectured Olivia about finding her identity outside of a relationship, so Tig surmised that Robbie hadn’t been included in the call. As Olivia told her sad story and obsessed over what she’d done wrong, Tig and Claire just listened and assured her she was a wonderful person and that Will was really missing out.
“Do you need us to come over?” Claire asked.
“No,” Olivia said, sniffling. “I’ll be all right.”
“Of course you will,” said Claire. “And if you need to talk any more, Tig and I are here for you.”
Tig hoped Olivia wouldn’t feel the need to take Claire up on that offer. She wasn’t sure she could handle any more; she already felt guilty enough.
Monday at school was beyond awkward. Olivia walked around like someone who’d lost all hope and whose only wish left in life was to be run over by a bus. When Will came into the gym that morning, he furtively glanced at the spot where they all usually sat, then went to sit with a group of boys from the school band. “He barely even looked at me!” Olivia said, starting to well up again. “And he isn’t sitting with us anymore!”
“Olivia, get ahold of yourself,” Robbie said. “What was he supposed to do, stare at you? Then come and sit down like nothing ever happened? He’s probably scared to death that we’re going to yell at him.”
“Maybe we should give him a piece of our minds,” Claire said. “Look at the way he’s hurt poor Liv!”
“Look, I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic,” said Robbie. “But what’s the guy supposed to have done, proposed marriage? We are, after all, in middle school. Breakups happen every day. Olivia, you’ve got to snap out of it!”
Olivia started to cry.
“Now look what you’ve done,” said Claire, patting Olivia as she cried.
“Didn’t I warn her not to become a boyfriend girl?” Robbie said to Tig. “This is what happens to boyfriend girls!”
“Olivia,” said Tig, “Robbie didn’t mean to upset you. She just wants you to feel better. Isn’t that right, Robbie?”
Robbie softened. “Of course. I just hate to see you make a muffin out of a molehole, as Paris would say.”
Paris!
Tig hadn’t even thought about Paris!
Paris knew everything!
What if, when Paris found out about the breakup, she told Olivia what she’d overheard Tig and Regan saying about Will? Tig felt sick.
She’d have to call Paris that afternoon and assure her she’d had nothing to do with the breakup. So far, Paris hadn’t said a word to anyone about Tig and Will liking each other. Maybe she would continue to keep the info to herself. If Olivia was this upset now, Tig could only imagine how much more upset she’d be if she knew Will’s true feelings.
Kyra came into the gym, practically bouncing. She had a big smile on her face. “Hey! Guess what,” she said. Then she saw Olivia, and her smile immediately faded. “What happened?”
“Will broke up with her,” Tig said. Upon hearing it said out loud, Olivia began crying harder.
“Oh, Olivia,” Kyra said. “I’m so sorry! Are you all right?”
“Does she look all right?” Robbie said. “Seriously, Liv, you’ve got to buck up. I’d die before I’d let some boy know he’d made me cry. Don’t let him see you like this!”
But Olivia was on a jag and couldn’t be stopped.
“That’s terrible,” Kyra said. “I can only imagine how you must feel. Breakups can be very traumatic.” Tig couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Kyra’d had her first boyfriend for only a few weeks, and suddenly she was a relationship expert. Kyra turned her attention back to Tig. “Now I feel kind of bad for being so happy this morning.”
“You’ve got some happy to share?” Tig said. “By all means, share it. We could use some around here.”
Kyra switched gears back into excited mode. “What would you girls say if I told you I’d gotten Pandora’s Box an audition?”
“Well,” said Robbie, “first I’d say, ‘An audition for what?’ and next I’d say, ‘What’s in it for you?’ Are you trying to play bass for us again?”
“You’re so cynical,” said Kyra. “I already told you: I’m over wanting to play in the band.”
“Just so long as we understand each other,” Robbie said. “So what is in it for you?”
“Nothing,” said Kyra. “I was just trying to be a good friend. Excuse me for being nice!”
“What’s the audition for, Kyra?” Tig asked.
Kyra got a big smile again. “You’re not going to believe it! West Alabama . . . Academy . . . prom!”
All the girls gasped. Even Olivia stopped crying and looked excited. Even Robbie seemed impressed.
“Wait a minute,” Robbie said. “You’re telling me that you got us an audition to play West Al’s prom? No way. That’s one of the sweetest gigs in town.”
“I know,” said Kyra. “But I’m awesome.”
“How?” Tig asked. “How’d you get us an audition?”
“My next-door neighbor Mrs. Marquez is a teacher there,” Kyra said. “She’s also the senior-class sponsor. It was my mom’s weekend to be at the house with me, so . . .”
“Wait . . . what?” Robbie asked.
“It’s a custody arrangement thing until their divorce case goes to court,” Tig explained. “Her parents take turns living in the house with her until the settlement is final.”
“Sheesh,” Robbie said. “That’s rough.”
Kyra continued. “So Mom was trimming the sasanquas this weekend, and Mrs. Marquez happened to be in her yard and—”
“What’s a sasanqua?” Robbie asked.
Kyra scoffed. “It’s a camellia. Don’t you know anything?”
“Can we focus, please?” Tig said.
“Anyway,” Kyra continued, “they were talking about how Mrs. Marquez was planning the prom, so I popped over and joined in the conversation. I said Pandora’s Box was the hottest new band in town and that I had connections and might be able to persuade them to consider auditioning.”
“But we’re not the hottest new band in town,” Tig said. “We’ve had only one real gig, and that was for senior citizens.”
“It’s called buzz,” Kyra said. “Before you can actually become the hottest new band in town, someone has to start saying you’re the hottest new band in town!”
“She’s not wrong,” said Robbie. “Buzz is a big deal.”
“So is having a full set list,” said Tig. “The West Al prom is probably a three-hour show.”
“Four, actually,” said Kyra. “But you really just play three. Two hours, an hour break, and then the last hour.”
“We’ve got maybe an hour’s worth of songs, if we push it,” said Tig. “What do we do for the extra two hours? Hum?”
“I thought for three grand, you might be able to figure something out,” said Kyra.
“Three grand?” said Robbie. “Shut up!”
“The academy doesn’t do anything halfway,” Kyra said. “They get most of their bands through the special events companies out of Atlanta or Montgomery or Birmingham. Three thousand is the minimum going rate these days.”
“That’s a thousand dollars an hour!” said Tig.
“Yeah,” Kyra said, feigning a sad face. “It’s just too bad you don’t have three hours’ worth of songs.”
“For a thousand bucks an hour,” Tig said, “we’ll figure something out.”