“I’ve approved it,” said Sparkle from her spider-roll position.
Miss Crane fluttered her hands, her hot-pink manicure flashing arcs through the air. The manicure always made me wonder if she had a secret life in which she wore nonchoral clothes and didn’t let teenage girls walk all over her. “I know you have excellent taste, Sparkle, but, er, per the school board, I have to approve what’s in their songs, or they can’t play.”
“Pop Pop is all set,” said Sparkle. “End of discussion.”
“Pop Pop?” said Jenah. “We settled on Lice Blanket and you know it.”
“I don’t think a band called Lice Blanket would be ideal,” protested Miss Crane. “I’m positive their lyrics would never make it past the school board. Now, Sparkle. What kind of music does Pop Pop play?”
Sparkle rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “You should definitely invite whatever band you want, Jenah,” she said. “The Halloween Dance would be remembered for all time.”
“Oh, good, an agreement,” said Miss Crane. “Now if I can just—”
“Excellent,” said Jenah to Sparkle’s sarcasm. She snapped her fingers at me. “What’s that new band we were just listening to, Cam? So new we were totally ahead of the curve.”
“Huh?” I said.
“You know,” said Jenah. “It has that green-eyed boy in it. The new kid. What’s his name, Dev, Dannon, what?”
“Oh,” I said, catching on. “Blue Crush. They’re sensational. Really, er, fresh. But, uh, I don’t know if they’re available to play.” I was torn—Jenah’s idea would be an awesome way for poor Devon to practice getting over his stage fright, and of course I would love to hear him sing … but on the other hand, I had to get that demon out of him, and the fewer distractions, the better.
On the other other hand, Pop Pop stunk.
“I’m confused,” said Sparkle’s sidekick, Reese. “Sparkle’s band is set. Why would we be changing it now? That’s not cool.” Her brown eyes crinkled in befuddlement.
“You’d know what’s not cool,” I said innocently.
“True,” Reese said, nodding. “Besides, have you seen how hot the boy in Pop Pop is? Oh. My. God.” This was met with squeals of agreement from the Sparkle supporters on the risers.
Sparkle glared at us. “Reese’s mother is paying for the band, and she’s paying for Pop Pop.”
“So, the playlist for Pop Pop,” said Miss Crane. “Can they email me their lyrics so I can check for improper allusions?” She peered at Sparkle. “Do you think they’ll have email?”
“What’s Blue Crush?” said Benjamin, raising his hand. “Are they a surfer band? We’ve never had a surfer band.”
“They’re an everything band,” said Jenah. She leaned back on the risers. “Surfers will like them. Ravers will like them.” She looked at Reese. “The lead singer’s really cute, so Pop Pop lovers will like them. And as soon as we book them, Devon can give us the lyrics immediately.”
“Oh, that would give me time to read them,” said Miss Crane. “Maybe he can send them to me from the computer lab. Do you think he has a file of their lyrics at school? Like on his phone, is that a thing?”
“My mom would totally approve of supporting a band with a hot boy from the school,” said Reese.
“Excellent!” said Jenah. “We’re all set, then.”
“We are not all set,” growled Sparkle.
“Oh, the disco ball wants to talk,” I said.
“You just watch yourself, Cash,” said Sparkle. “Little Miss My-Mother’s-an-Evil—”
I had my last tempura shrimp ready to throw at her stupid sparkle lip gloss when Reese’s dim-witted squeal interrupted her. “Ohmigod, who’s that?”
We all turned.
Standing in the doorway was a punk-band boy.
7
Punk-Band Boy
There was a gaga moment where I didn’t recognize him. For one, this boy had black hair, not blond. For two, I’d just seen him ten minutes ago torn and muddy, carrying a box of froggy-looking pixies. The Devon I knew was nothing like this boy here.
This boy had style.
This boy had cool.
This boy was looking down Sparkle’s shirt.
“Devon!” I said. I grabbed his sleeve (now not torn). “How are you feeling?”
He tossed back his ink-black hair and looked amused. I felt six years old. “Hey, Flower Girl,” he said. “Come to get a piece of the action?”
“Ew,” I said, but all the same I thought I might be blushing. I peered into his green eyes, searching for any trace of Devon there. Surely this wasn’t Devon … but what if Estahoth was already getting to him? Already warping his mind, making him think disgusting inhuman thoughts…?