Chart Topper by D. M. Paige

Author:D. M. Paige
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lerner Publishing Group

FIFTEEN

When I got there in the morning, a cell phone whizzed by my ear as I walked into the recording studio, balancing four coffees on a tray. Malik was wrong. Pippa hadn’t forgotten. She must have told J. T. what I’d said about the song.

“I know what I want now, J. T. And it’s your job to give it to me. I’m the artist and the artist is always right,” Pippa said, confusing herself with that motto of the customer always being right. But now was not the time to correct her. She was on a roll. She knocked over the music stand with one of her six-inch heels and looked around for something else to hurl in J. T.’s direction. Pippa looked down at her shoes, but they had way too many straps. Still, she bent over to try to pull one of them off. I gulped down a laugh. And wondered if I should call Malik.

“No!” J. T. said as he stood up from a crouched position. He must have ducked to miss the phone.

This time Pippa was using her tantrum to get something hat she actually wanted.

I smiled and picked up the phone off the floor.

I stopped smiling when I came face-to-face with J. T.

“I want to see you in my office,” J. T. said, looking at me as he slammed out of the studio.

Pippa stopped fiddling with her shoe and put her foot back down. She lit up like she was glad to see me and like she hadn’t been about to throw the shoes off her feet at J. T.

“You told him what I said about the song sounding like someone else’s?” I asked.

“No, I told him I wanted to use your song.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, alarm bells going off somewhere in my head.

“The song you sent me last night.”

“I didn’t send anything.”

She pulled out her phone, which was blinged out in pink rhinestones—or at least I hoped they were rhinestones. Otherwise that phone probably cost more than Mom made at work for a year at the hospital.

“How did you get this?” I asked, looking at myself on-screen. I was singing my favorite of my own songs, “Alone with Me.”

“Someone sent it to me. I just assumed it was you.” She said it like it was no big deal.

“It wasn’t.” Another thought hit me. “Oh no, if J. T. finds out and thinks I did …”

She showed me the text. The number looked familiar. I pulled out my own phone. It matched James’s number, except for the last digit. Could it be Harmon Holt’s number?

“I’ll tell J. T. I found it myself. You’re missing the point. I loved your song, and I want to use it on my album. With a few tweaks, of course. But we can work those out together.”

My head was spinning. Pippa wanted to sing my song, and she wanted me to help her “tweak it.”

“The point is that I love it. It’s perfect. It’s new. It says all the stuff I’ve been feeling about being alone in a school full of people.

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