Aubrie hurried to my side. "Chelsea, are you all right?"
"No," I said, and then the tears I'd held back spilled over anyway. I couldn't see but kept walking toward the parking lot.
"He's such a jerk," Aubrie said, and then Rachel added several more adjectives, most of which Rick had already set to music in songs about us.
Samantha glanced over her shoulder at the restaurant to make sure we were alone. "We need to go somewhere and talk. We can't let him do this to Chelsea. What if Rick actually makes it through the High School Idol auditions? We can't let him sing that song on national TV."
"How are we going to stop him?" I asked.
She looked around the group and then gazed at me. "I think you already know the answer to that question."
I held up my hands, using them to ask the question. "We cough on him and give him laryngitis?"
"No, Chels, you've got to sing. You've got to beat him at the auditions."
Chapter 7
We drove to Samantha's house, then sat cross-legged in her bedroom discussing the details.
"You still have two weeks to memorize a song. It will be easy," Samantha said. "You memorized 'Be True to Your School' without even trying."
"But Rick wrote his own song. How can I top that?"
Rachel waved off my question, like it was silly. "You're better looking and have nice legs. You don't think Britney Spears got where she is because she wrote her songs, do you?"
Aubrie considered me with her head tilted. "You'll need something sparkly to wear. Something that looks rock star. We'll look on the Internet."
"What if the High School Idol judges are mean?" I asked. "They chew people up and spit them out on those reality shows. I don't want the whole nation making fun of me because I forget a word, or drop a note, or pass out during the audition. I don't know if I can do this."
"Sure you can," Aubrie said. "We'll be your backup singers."
Samantha and Rachel shot her angry looks. Clearly, they were less than thrilled with the idea of being my backup singers.
"Oh come on," Aubrie said. "We do dances all the time. It will be just like one of our pep assembly routines."
"Except for potentially performing in front of millions of viewers," Rachel said.
Samantha let out a sigh. "Aubrie is right. We're in this together. Rick didn't just attack Chelsea. He wrote at least two songs about cheerleaders and who knows how many more that we didn't hear. Maybe he'll sing about all of us tonight. He wants to take us on, I say we make sure his stupid songs never see the light of day. It will be our revenge."
"Revenge of the cheerleaders," Rachel said, and we nodded in agreement.
After that we spent the next hour on the Internet. We looked at dozens of songs, trying to find something that was in my vocal range, with a good dance beat, and recognizable but not played out. I wanted to find a song about evil band members entitled "Dangerously Stupid," but apparently nobody has written that song yet.
Finally, and after much discussion, we chose Cher's "The Shoop Shoop Song (It's in His Kiss)." It was fun, bouncy, and had a strong backup part. And besides, the words seemed easy to memorize.
I only had to sing a few lines before my friends came in with their response, and then so much of the song worked like a conversation.
Not really all that frightening if you took out the part where we had to do it in front of people.
"I'll sign us up for the audition," Aubrie said.
"I'll ask Mrs. Jones to help us come up with a routine," Rachel added.
"What do you want me to do?" I asked.
Samantha let out a sigh. "Remember when you quit choir, you were so glad you never had to sing for Mr. Metzerol again?"
"Yeah," I said. I knew what she was going to say, and dreaded it before she opened her mouth again.
"Go ask him if he can coach you through the song."
When I got home my mother asked me where Adrian was. I told her I didn't care because I was never speaking to Adrian again, and then, even though I thought I had finished crying, I cried all over again when I told my mother what had happened.
Mom listened, shaking her head. "How could he do such a thing?" she asked. "What's wrong with him?" And then finally she threw her hands up and said, "Well, that's the last straw. Adrian is not seeing that boy anymore. He is no longer welcome in our home."
An hour later Adrian came home. By that time I was up in the bathroom brushing my teeth. I heard Mom's voice, low and angry, talking to my sister, and then Adrian's voice, louder and defensive, saying, "It's just a song. Besides, she insults him all the time."
"That isn't the same," Mom said. "You know that isn't the same."
Something slammed. Probably the coat closet. "How come you always take her side?"
"And how come you never do?" Mom snapped back. "She's your sister. And until Rick apologizes to Chelsea and promises not to sing that song, you won't see him. Is that clear?"
I heard footsteps storming down the hall then Adrian yelled, "You're trying to ruin my life!"
As if she needed any help doing that.
Adrian walked by the bathroom and saw me rinsing out my toothbrush. She paused by the doorway, her breath still coming out quickly. "So now you're taking Rick away from me."
"I didn't make him sing that song."
"But you told Mom about it. You blew it all out of proportion. It's not like he said anything that isn't true."
I stared at her, then shook my head. How could she see things that way? How could she have so much hatred for me that she thought her boyfriend was justified in singing trash about me in front of everybody? At that moment I wanted to hurt her as badly as she hurt me. With an even voice I said, "Tell me, how many songs did Rick write about you on his new CD?"
"What?" she asked.
"Did he write any songs about what a wonderful girlfriend you are?"
She let out an exasperated grunt, "The CD is called Cheerleaders in Action. I'm not a cheerleader."
"Oh. Well doesn't it seem a little obsessive that your boyfriend wrote a bunch of songs about your sister? Maybe you should think about that."
When her face flushed red I knew my words had hit their mark. Still, she wasn't going to let me have the last word in the argument. She took a step toward me. "Rick isn't interested in you. He wrote those songs about cheerleaders because he's sick of watching the way you and your friends walk over everyone else."
As if. I would have loved to hear about just who she thought I'd been waltzing over, but I wasn't about to let myself get distracted. Instead I shrugged, "So you're saying he does think you're a wonderful girlfriend?"
She lifted her chin as though daring me to contradict her. "Yes. He loves me."
"Well, since he doesn't want to lose you, he shouldn't have a hard time apologizing to me and switching songs for the audition, should he?"
She rolled her eyes. "You don't think he'll do it? You think you've gotten rid of him just because you told Mom about that song? Well, even though you've never apologized to him for the way you look down at him all the time, and even though 'Dangerously Blonde' is his best song, he'll do it if I ask him to."
I smiled at her. "Mmm hmm. Why don't you go call him now?"