I stared up at the stage. "That is so mean."
"What?" the guy asked.
"His lyrics are so rude."
"What?" the guy asked again, and I knew he couldn't hear me.
I shook my head, "Never mind." After all, it was just a stupid song. So who cared that Rick bad-mouthed cheerleaders for one song? His last album had consisted of badmouthing the school, the government, and adults in general. Rick apparently didn't like anyone. Big deal.
The song ended but the guy held onto my arm. His eyes caught mine and I was struck again by how familiar they looked. "Do you want to go somewhere that's easier to talk?" he asked.
"Let's go back by the drinks," I answered, because at least I'd been able to understand him there. Besides, I really was worried about his boss getting mad at him for leaving his post. We walked to the back of the room while Rick started up his next song, entitled, "We Don't Need Your Sis-Boom-Bah Crap." This song consisted mostly of swear words.
"Unbelievable. Rick is absolutely unbelievable," I said.
"That's why I listen to country," the guy said.
I laughed and tried to shake off my irritation. "Yeah, country songs don't criticize cheerleaders."
He nodded, "You know, there are strikingly few country songs about cheerleaders. But maybe one day they'll find their rightful place in music lore with bootleggers and coal miners."
Which is when I decided not to tell the guy I was a cheerleader. Right then I wanted to be older, intellectual, and dripping with sophistication.
He tilted his head at me. "So if you're not a Rick and the Deadbeats fan, what are you doing here?"
"Watching my little sister. See, sadly she was born without the gene for taste or common sense and so she likes Rick's music. I only came to make sure there wasn't any alcohol here." As soon as I said this, I realized I'd insulted him. After all, he worked here.
I tried to backpedal. "Not that I'm saying you'd give alcohol to minors."
Instead of being angry he just laughed. "Yeah, high school kids don't need liquor to make them act like idiots." He nodded up at some of Rick's friends who were jumping around and slamming into one another. "They can do that on hormones alone."
He said this as if he didn't think of me as a high school student. Which made sense. He'd seen me up on campus first. Was there a way I could pull off being a college student? Maybe live a double life just so he'd be interested in me? I was willing to consider it.
He looked over across the crowd. "So your little sister goes to Pullman High?"
"Yeah." It wasn't a lie. Okay, he probably assumed she was a senior since most of Rick's friends were, but technically it wasn't a lie.
Out on the dance floor I noticed Samantha and Aubrie talking. Samantha kept shaking her head and Aubrie had her hand covering her mouth. Which meant they were listening to the anti-cheerleader lyrics of Rick's song too.
Adrian still stood in the front of the room by the band, swinging her hips to the music. My own sister was dancing to Rick ripping on cheerleaders. It seemed like she should have stuck up for me—or at least warned me. I mean, his new CD had two anti-cheerleading songs on it?
I glanced back at the guy and saw him watching me. I'd never lied about my age before, but looking at his eyes made me seriously consider doing it.
" I 'm sorry I keep staring at you," he said. "It's just that you remind me of someone." He looked down at the floor and shook his head. "You probably think that's a pickup line, don't you? You're going to put that into your supply along with the 'Is it hot or is it just you' line."
"No," I said. "Well—just as long as I remind you of someone who's pretty."
"Gorgeous," he said. "Stunning."
"See, that's much better than the 'Are you hot' line. Who do you think I look like?"
He shook his head. "I can't put my finger on it. That's what bothers me."
I took a step closer to him. "At this point most guys would just throw out the name of an impressive celebrity."
He laughed and leaned toward me. "I'm not making it up. You really do remind me of someone. Do you believe that?"
I nodded. "Actually when I first saw you I thought you looked familiar too."
His gaze grew more intense. "Maybe we've met before. Do you work on campus?"
"No." I doubted we'd ever met because I would have remembered him. I've got a good memory where good-looking guys are concerned.
The second song ended. It had been a short one. Probably because it's hard to find words that rhyme with curses. The music started up for the next one and Rick walked to the mike. "This is the song I'm going to sing for the auditions of High School Idol. I hope you'll all come out to support me as I rock to Dangerously Blonde."
"We must have met somewhere," the guy said. "What's your name?"
I hardly heard him because Rick sang the first verse of his song.
Chelsea is so pretty—
Every hair is in its place.
Lipstick adds a perfect smile
To her perfect face.
Yes, she's dangerously blonde.
The breath went out of my lungs. My heart slammed into my ribs. This song was about me. And although he'd called me pretty, he'd said the word like it was an insult. Time froze as I waited for the chorus of his song.
The guy stepped closer to me. "You do have a name, don't you?"
But I couldn't answer. I couldn't even talk. My gaze was stuck on the stage.
She'll wink at you, but
Only if you're cool.
Yeah, she knows what she needs to be.
It's all about pop-u-lar-ity,
When you're dangerously blonde.
"Are you okay?" the guy asked.
I had never been a violent person, but I wanted to wrestle the mike out of Rick's hands and club him with it. How could he do this to me in front of the entire senior class? Why did I deserve this?
The worst part of the whole thing was that—whereas most of Rick's songs sounded like they were wandering around in search of a melody—this song was catchy. It sounded like something you'd hear on the radio. People, people who went to my high school, clapped along. My sister was one of them.
It hurt to swallow. In another moment I would break into a thousand pieces. I turned to the guy, but only for a second. "I've got to go."
"Right now?" he asked.
"Sorry." I walked past him, making my way around the refreshment table.
"What's your name, at least," he asked, but I was not about to tell him my name was Chelsea when Rick was up in front of the room slandering it.
"Sorry," was all I could get out and I hurried away from him.
I took a deep breath. I had to make it to the door without bursting into tears or finding something to hurl at Rick. I could do this.
I would have to leave Adrian here. I wasn't about to walk up to the stage in front of everyone and cause a scene by trying to haul my sister away. It was bad enough that Rick had set his disdain for me to music. I wouldn't make it worse by showing everyone how it affected me.
I had just gone out the door when my friends caught up to me. Even Rachel came, which meant she had left the blond guy to talk to me.