Auburn: Outcasts and Underdogs by Valerie Thomas

Author:Valerie Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: performance, music, band, songs, outcasts, auburn, underdogs

Chapter 15

The next week was hectic, moving all too quickly as we rushed to finish a CD to—hopefully—sell at Cat’s Cradle when we played. The old man gave us a tiny bit of shelf space, enough for twelve copies at once. He promised to restock the shelf if they all sold, but we all knew that wasn’t about to happen.

A stack of one-hundred printable discs cost us thirty bucks, and cases set us back another twenty. After experimenting with a few different ways to record our audio, we finally resorted to holding my microphone up to the speakers for an instrumental, and adding my vocals after.

If I was being honest, the songs were nowhere near professional quality. They sounded like someone’s cell-phone recording of a live performance, which wasn’t too far off from what they were. But the CD’s had our band name on them, and a logo we’d thrown together on the computer. Seeing that was pretty cool.

We tried to pretend that Wednesday was just a normal day; we went to school, pretended to pay attention in class, endured some taunting from Jessica while we waited for the bus, and then headed over to Charlie’s house.

But instead of practicing, we just stood around talking. After a few minutes of doing nothing, I walked over to the concrete wall and leaned against it. “Did you guys see who’s going to be at the signing?” I asked.

Joey looked up from tuning his guitar. “No, I couldn’t find it anywhere online. Who is it?”

“Queen Anne’s Subtle Overdose.” I waited a moment for that to sink in. Even though they weren’t Joey or Charlie’s favorite band, both of them had some of Queen Anne’s songs on their phones. My feelings about the band weren’t exactly a secret; I’d even confessed to Charlie that I had a bit of a crush on Aras Palmer, their frontman. “Do you think we’ll get to meet them?”

Charlie shrugged. He wasn’t tuning his guitar like Joey, but he seemed to be finding flecks on its purple face to pick at. “I dunno. Maybe if we buy one of their CDs and stand in line to get it signed. Or maybe we could ask the store owner to arrange a meeting.”

“Yeah, maybe.” It wasn’t much use speculating, but at least it gave us something to do. The familiar pressure that I’d come to recognize as pre-performance jitters was setting in early, and as much as I wanted to meet Queen Anne’s Subtle Overdose, I also wanted to finish the night as quickly as possible. The feeling was strange; if I could have controlled time in the world, I still don’t know if I would have sped it up or slowed it down.

“We could head there early if you want,” Charlie suggested. “Just hang out in the car until it’s time to perform. Maybe check out the set-up and get warmed up.”

It sounded like a good idea. I pulled my phone out of a front pocket of my jeans and checked the time: 3:07 pm.

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