Lisa isn’t at the movie. When I accidentally-on-purpose go by Bargain Village on Saturday, she’s on a break. I don’t see her till lunch on Monday, when we meet in the music room at school. The music teacher lets us use the school’s equipment to mix our recording of “Coming Apart at the Dreams.” It’s a good thing Lisa takes music. Next year I will, for sure.
“I could trip, I could—” Lisa clicks the computer mouse at two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. We’re at the repeat of the first verse. The whole song is only three minutes and twelve seconds.
“Right there,” she says. “My voice sounds so lame there.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I say. “We’ve talked about this before, Lee.”
Lisa’s family calls her Lee. After she phoned me one time and said, “Hi, it’s Lee,” I figured it was cool if I used it too. I still get a little nervous when I do though.
“But I’m flat,” Lisa complains.
“No, you’re not. We checked, remember? It just needs to sound stronger.”
“Maybe we should double the vocal,” Lisa says.
“You’re going to sing it again?”
“No, no. With this program I can copy the vocal to another track and play them both. Wait.”
She starts pointing and clicking the mouse again. Screens blink past us. How cool is this? I think. I’m sitting here mixing a song that I cowrote with Lisa, who I get to call Lee. And she is older than me and gorgeous and in a duo called Two with me, and I’m talking and not nervous or sarcastic. I didn’t even think of a smart comment when Lisa said she was flat. I bet you thought I would, too. So, if I’m comfortable with her when we work on music, how come I can’t ask her to a movie?
“Okay, let’s try this.” Lisa clicks the mouse one more time.
I could trip, I could fall
Would you hear if I called…
Lisa’s voice sounds way fuller. “Awesome,” I say. “That is so cool, Lee. How’d you do that?”
Before she can show me, guess who barges in?
“Ace! Lee! Hey, wait’ll you hear this.” Yes. It’s Denny.
I glare at him. I’m the one who gets to call Lisa Lee. And anyway, what does he want now? I say, “No, Den, wait’ll you hear this.” I reach for the mouse to click on a playback. I knock over my carton of chocolate milk instead. It splashes onto my backpack. I jump up “Aw—”
“No, listen,” Denny insists. “We want to do a YouTube video, right?”
“You want to do a YouTube video. We didn’t say we did.” While I talk, I use my gym shorts to mop up the milk. I know this is probably a mistake even while I’m doing it.
“Whatever,” Denny says. “So anyway, I told Nadia and Alison Ace needs a YouTube music video and they were, like, We’re on it!”
“Yeah right,” I say. I’m still mopping up. Now I see the milk has gone into my backpack. “And it’s not my video, it’s Two’s—”
“Nadia and Alison who?” Lisa interrupts. At least she’s talking to Denny today.
“You know,” Denny says. “From video club.”
Lisa doesn’t say anything. I’m too busy mopping the inside of my backpack to look at her. I’ve known Alison and Nadia since they were in a grade one/two class with me and Denny. We were grade ones. They were grade twos. They’ve gotten a lot hotter since then, but I know they don’t think we have.
Before I can say, “Yeah right” again, Nadia and Alison come in.
“Sweet,” Denny says. “So, let’s make a cool music video and conquer YouTube!”
I lift up my chocolate-milk-covered shorts. The room goes quiet. I look at the shorts. Oh-oh. Using them was a mistake. I stuff them in my pack.
But now I see no one is looking at me. Lisa is looking at Nadia and Alison, and they are looking at her. If looks could kill, they’d all be six feet under.
Nadia says, “Actually, Denny, maybe not. So much to do, you know. Sorry, Ace. Too bad, so sad. Gotta go.”
“So not sad, Lisa,” says Alison. “We’re outta here.”
They spin on their heels. Alison tugs up a shoulder strap. Nadia pulls the hem of her shirt down to the top of her jeans. Is that a tattoo peeking out there? They walk out. A second later, from down the hall, a girl’s voice calls, “Oh, Robbyyyyyyyyy,” then there’s laughter.
“What was that about?” Denny scrunches up his nose.
“We’re not exactly friends,” Lisa says. Her face is as red as her hair.
“How come?” Denny asks. He’s not Mister Sensitive. I glare at him. But I want to know too.
“It’s a long boring story,” Lisa says. “About boys.”
Boys? I don’t think I want to hear anything about Lisa and boys.
“Okay, whatever,” Denny says. “Anyway, we don’t need them to do our video. They were just gonna help with tech stuff anyway. Really, it’s my vision—well, our vision, right, Lee?”
“Right,” I join in, “because I don’t have any vision.”
“Well, like, you too, Ace. But it will feature Lee, right? I mean, she’s the lead singer.” Denny isn’t even looking at me while he talks. He’s looking at Lisa. And calling her Lee.
“I don’t know,” Lisa says.
“Come on,” Denny urges. “It’ll be way cooler than busking. It’s creative! People will hear your songs. And I’ve already tweeted that we’re doing it.”
It’s time for Denny to go. I pull out my chocolate-milk gym shorts and wave them in his face. “We’ll think about it, Den. It’s time for gym. Go get your stuff.”
“Whoa.” He waves his hands. “If it’s wrestling again today, we are so not partners.”
Denny leaves. Lisa and I play “Coming Apart at the Dreams” again. People should hear this song. Denny is probably useless at videos, but you never know. And it would mean I’d get to spend more time with Lisa, even if it was with Denny around. At least I could keep an eye on him.
Lisa shuts down the computer. The bell is ringing. We look at each other.
“Let’s do it,” I say. “We don’t want to busk forever, right? What have we got to lose? If it sucks, we don’t post it and nobody sees.” Lisa doesn’t say anything.
I have a brain wave. “And if it works,” I say, “Nadia and Alison are going to be really jealous.”
Lisa starts to smile, then bites her lip. Outside, the hall is getting noisy.
Finally she nods. “Okay,” she says. “But we say if it’s good or bad. Oh no, I’m gonna be late.” She grabs her stuff and heads out, texting like mad. “Later,” she calls.
I grab my stuff too. The chocolate milk has made everything sticky. Wow, I think, that was easy. So why can’t I ask her to a movie?