Chapter 2 #3
“Ladies and gentlemen!” a man announced with a megaphone. “Please put your hands together for the Heartbreakers!”
Even standing on my tiptoes, I couldn’t see the group of boys that had caused the commotion. Too many girls were jumping up and down in front of me for me to get a good view.
Another round of screaming made the room shake when a song started blasting through the building’s sound system.
Drew pulled his iPod out of his back pocket and put his headphones on.
I groaned out loud, knowing that if I checked my backpack, mine wouldn’t be there.
I had left my iPod in the car, and Drew chuckled when he saw the panicked look on my face.
“Rock, paper, scissors for it?” I asked with my best puppy-dog face.
“Can’t hear you, Stella,” he said with a smirk. “My music’s too loud.”
He turned the volume up and started to head bob to whatever he was listening to. I closed my eyes in frustration. The rest of today was going to suck.
***
My head was pounding. Between two hours’ worth of cheesy lyrics, screaming, and a stuffy room, my brain felt like it was exploding inside my skull.
Cara and I were scary similar in so many ways. We both could quote every line from every episode of Friends like we had written and produced the show ourselves. We hated peanut butter because of the way it made your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth, and neither of us had ever had a boyfriend.
But if there was one startling difference between us, it was our choice in music.
As Drew and I stood in line waiting for an autograph, I couldn’t for the life of me understand how Cara enjoyed the Heartbreakers.
From the look on Drew’s face, he couldn’t either.
His iPod had died about an hour ago, so now we were both suffering.
“She’s totally adopted,” I muttered, which made Drew snicker.
“You’re identical.”
“Irrelevant,” I said and shook my head. “I mean, honestly? Where did she go so wrong?”
“I think it was that girl at the hospital Cara’s friends with.”
“The one with leukemia?”
“Yeah, her. She made mixed CDs for all the pediatric patients.”
“We should sue.”
Drew laughed and rubbed his temples. “Seriously, though. I think this prolonged exposure to musical garbage is wearing on me. You’d think they’d move the line along a little faster.”
“Seriously,” I agreed.
The Heartbreakers’ new CD was playing on a loop, but every time the song changed, another round of screams ensued. By now I could sing along with every song if I wanted.
A girl in front of me turned around. “Oh my God! This is their best song!” she exclaimed, as if we hadn’t heard it a million times already today. “I love the Heartbreakers!”
I restrained myself from rolling my eyes.
Every song must be their best song. Closing my eyes, I inhaled a deep breath.
“How close are we?” I asked Drew for the tenth time.
I still couldn’t see the front of the line, but we had to be close.
If we weren’t…well, I didn’t know how much longer I could stand this torture.
Drew, who was a good foot and a half taller than Cara and me, craned his neck over the crowd and looked in the direction I assumed the band was sitting.
He smiled down at me. “Looks like it will only be ten minutes.”
“Oh, thank God!” Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out a few of my sister’s belongings—a Heartbreakers CD, a poster, and a tour shirt. If she didn’t go crazy over this present…
As the minutes passed, we moved slowly up the line.
The closer we got, the more often I could catch a small glimpse of the band through the crowd.
Cameras flashed as people took pictures.
Soon we were only a few people away from the front of the line.
A group of girls huddled around the table moved away, and—
I could finally see the Heartbreakers. I scanned the table and my heart stopped.
There were four boys. On the far right sat a broad boy in a muscle shirt and with close-cropped dark hair.
On his upper left bicep was an armband tattoo with black spirals that twisted together.
Next to him was a tall, lanky guy with messy strawberry-blond hair and thick glasses.
The third boy was blond as well, but his hair was styled to a T and drenched with gel to keep every strand in place.
A pair of headphones hung around his neck, and he kept fiddling with the earbuds.
The final boy was the one that made my eyes pop.
He had a familiar mop of wavy hair and a killer smile: the boy from Starbucks.
I felt my face go red as I stared at him.
He was talking with a fan as he signed a poster, and then he reached across the table to give her a hug.
When she walked away, I could see the tears streaming down her face.
My mind was on hyperdrive. I had been flirting with one of the boys from my sister’s favorite boy band? Someone famous?
The line moved forward, and I realized I would have to talk to him again.
What would he do when he saw me? Would he remember?
Of course he would, I told myself. We’d flirted for a good five minutes, and he paid for my drink!
But then again, he’d probably flirted with a million girls.
My palms were sweaty, and I quickly wiped them on the back of my shirt.
I didn’t want him to remember me, I realized. I’d told him that I was in Chicago to see an art gallery, not to meet the Heartbreakers. When he saw me standing in front of him asking for an autograph, he would probably laugh and think I was just another crazy fan.
“They look like little kids,” Drew said, startling me from my thoughts. I tore my eyes from the boy.
“What?” I responded, my heart thumping.
“The band.” Drew looked at me funny. “You okay, Stella? You’re kinda pale.”
“What?” I said, forcing a laugh. “I’m totally fine. And yeah, you’re right—little boys.” My brother was still staring at me like he knew something wasn’t quite right, so I continued the joke. “I mean look at the scrawny guy on the left. Can’t be older than twelve.”
Drew looked up at the boy I’d met this morning and cracked a smile. “I don’t know, looks thirteen to me.”
The girl from before turned back around again, but this time she had a sneer on her face. “Oliver is eighteen. Stop making fun of him. It’s not nice.”
Oliver, I thought, churning the name over in my mind. Suddenly I knew why he had seemed so familiar. He was the guy from the magazine article Cara had been reading, the one that called him a heartbreaker.
“You’re kidding, right?” Drew responded, his mouth hanging slack.
She put a hand on her hip. “Does it look like I’m kidding?” When my brother didn’t answer, she continued. “The Heartbreakers are the most talented band ever, and Oliver is amazing. Keep your stupid thoughts to yourself.”
After a few moments of staring with his mouth open, Drew finally recovered and surprised me by apologizing to the girl. “Well, Mrs. Perry,” he started, looking down at her shirt. It read: Future Mrs. Oliver Perry. “I profusely apologize for insulting you. It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” she snapped and pointed at Oliver. “Apologize to him.”
“Next!” one of the bodyguards called. The girl spun around, and her sneer transformed into a smile that must have bordered on painful. I blinked in surprise. During the argument, I hadn’t noticed how close we had gotten to the front of the line. My empty stomach flipped over.
“Drew, I think you were right,” I told him, shoving my sister’s stuff into his arms. “I feel sick. I need to go to the bathroom.”
“No way, Stella.” My brother reached out and grabbed my shirt as I tried to run away. “You’re not getting out of this one. You can puke on the band for all I care, but I refuse to go up there by myself.”
I felt my arms start to shake, dread setting in. There was no way I could face Oliver. “But, Drew…” I whined.
He looked at me with hard eyes. “We are doing this for Cara.”
I bit my lip. Drew was right. My sister was a billion times more important than my pride. Sighing, I hung my head. The bratty girl and her group of friends moved away from the table, and I held my breath. Hopefully the lack of oxygen would calm my nerves.
Suddenly the band stood up and headed off the stage. “Wait, where are they going?” Drew demanded.
“Sorry,” a husky security guard answered. “The boys are done for today. They have to rest for their concert tomorrow.”
Forgetting my embarrassment, I snapped at the man. “We’ve been waiting in line for hours.”
“Yes, and so has everyone behind you,” he pointed out. “The boys can’t get to everyone. There are just too many fans. Better luck next time.”
“But I’m not here for me. This is for my sister’s birthday present. She—” But it didn’t matter what I had to say. The Heartbreakers were already gone.