Katie Cox Goes Viral Read online

  Anyway, the point is that sometimes you have these major moments that decide lots of stuff, not just for a while but forever.

  Now given how things turned out, I’d like to say that I knew I was having one of those moments as Lacey, Amanda, Mad Jaz, Nicole, and Adrian all paused and looked at me. I’d love to be able to state that I looked out into my future down those two paths and knowingly chose the one that I took.

  Honestly, though, it wasn’t like that at all. Jaz and Adrian came in on the intro, Amanda picked up the bass line, Nicole held up the phone, and I just opened my mouth and sang.

  Because singing is what I do.

  “I’ve got mad skin,

  I’ve got mad hair,

  I borrowed your stuff, and I don’t even care.”

  It started out fairly quiet, and I could feel everyone settling into their instruments while my voice kind of floated around somewhere up above. Like a feather or a kite or the time Paige made Lacey’s math homework into a paper airplane and sailed it off the top of the science lab.

  “I’m the big bad apple on the family tree.

  Deal with it, sister. That’s just me.”

  And while Lacey’s math homework had drifted down into the school pond, my voice stayed up. And got louder and better as underneath me the instruments went from being separate into one unified sound—into, I guess, music.

  “I’ve got mad beats,

  I’ve got mad moves,

  I know your mom really disapproves.”

  By the time I got to the second verse, I’d stopped feeling embarrassed. In fact, I was hardly thinking at all.

  “If you’re up for a laugh, then you’re my cup of tea.

  Friends forever, that’s just me.”

  Saying this is incredibly embarrassing, so I’ll do it quickly and just get it over with, but as I was singing, I really did feel as though I was growing stronger. I guess it was a sense of togetherness with everyone, which is deeply bizarre, as we were the least-together group that had ever existed on the face of the earth.

  The end was pretty intense.

  “I’ve got mad love,

  I’ve got mad hate.”

  Much bigger than it had been on the bus too.

  “I’ve got my whole life to come, and I just can’t wait.”

  Not just me, but everyone: Adrian thumping out his chords, Jaz whacking her drums, Lace giving it some on her tambourine, and Amanda doing a cool sort of flourish.

  “And here’s the thing, I think you’ll agree,

  We’re all in this together. It’s not just me.”

  And then we were all laughing our heads off, and Adrian was giving everyone high fives.

  “That was excellent!”

  “So cool!”

  “I never knew you had such a good voice!”

  It was exclamation-mark central.

  “Oh, you know…” I said, trying to make the jump from worried hostess to lead singer.

  “Did you get it all, Nicole?”

  “I love that riff you did right at the end.”

  “Is anyone eating these chips, or can I have them?”

  The chips were stone cold and slimy and stuck together and soaking in fish grease. Even so, they were the most delicious things anyone had ever eaten in the whole history of eating things.

  “It sounded like a real song,” Lacey said. “You know, like the songs that you hear on the radio. It sounded like one of those.”

  “I can’t believe we made that noise.”

  “I know.”

  “I know!”

  I swear to you there was a glow in the room. Not the scary, radioactive one there’d been to start with either. This glow was like the ones you see in makeup ads. Everyone and everything right down to my dirty jeans pile just seemed to shine.

  In that moment, in fact, I could almost believe we were all in this together. That we were all on the same team, that the house wasn’t so bad. That Adrian and Jaz weren’t so bad either, because how else could we have made that music?

  Nicole and Lacey were doing this boom boom shake shake thing between them, Amanda was laughing, and Adrian was saying, “I wish Zoe had been home for this. She’d have been so proud of you both.”

  At which point I thought of just how much I’d have given for it to have been Dad with the keyboard on his lap rather than Adrian—and the happy bubble exploded. Or rather imploded.

  Anyway, it was gone.

  “Mom’s always proud of me,” I said. As I spoke, it was like the room snapped back into focus again. It was just me and a load of people who didn’t really like one another, surrounded by a tube of skin cream, mountains of clothes, and something that might once have been a pizza.

  “Yeah, but if she’d just heard that—”

  “Whatever,” I said, shooting the word full of ice. “And Nicole, can you please stop filming everything? You’re creeping me out.”

  “Katie,” Amanda said in her big-sister voice.

  “I’m just saying,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Sorry,” said Adrian. “I didn’t mean to—I don’t understand—”

  “No,” I said. “Clearly, you don’t.”

  “Sorry to interrupt,” said Lacey, “but you should know that Jaz is in your underwear drawer.”

  She wasn’t literally in there. She was just digging through mounds of underwear and twisted up ropes of tights, and stuff was falling out onto the floor, which, let’s be clear, was already pretty busy.

  “Jaz, why are you looking through my underwear?”

  Jaz turned around and grinned as though it were socially acceptable to meet people on the bus and then come back to their house and play music with them and dig through their underwear drawers.

  “Because if you’ve got anything hidden, it’ll be in here.”

  “Like what?”

  “Whiskey,” said Jaz, “or handcuffs. Or maybe a secret diary.” She reached right to the back of the drawer, putting her arm all the way in a little like a vet I’d once seen on television who’d been helping a cow give birth.

  “Jaz,” I began as Adrian got to his feet, which took a while.

  “You know, I think I’ll leave you ladies to it.”

  Thank the Lord he left. But then Amanda jumped up too, and I really didn’t want her to go. The atmosphere was already toxic, and that wasn’t even including Nicole’s body spray.

  “You can stay if you want, Mands,” I said with a hopeless smile.

  But I’d said it too late.

  “Ade and I are going to talk about restocking the shop.”

  “Great. Okay. Fine,” I said. “You two go and do that.”

  “Okay,” said Amanda, heading out the door. “Have fun.”

  “We will,” I said as Nicole grabbed Lacey’s bag and Frisbeed it out of the window.

  “Ha-ha-ha,” said Jaz. She didn’t actually laugh—she just said the words while looking Lacey straight in the eye. Clearly, my underwear wasn’t as amusing as trying to irritate my best friend.

  “Yes, very funny,” said Lacey, also not laughing in the slightest. “Are you going to go and get it then?”

  That’s when Nicole started climbing out of the window.

  “No!” I said, rushing forward and pulling Nicole down off the sill before she could actually kill herself. “We’re really high up. You’ll fall for miles.”

  “If anyone’s going to fall out the window,” said Jaz, “it should be Lacey.”

  “What?!” Lacey’s head snapped back around. “Why?”

  “Put you out of your misery.”

  This was not looking good. I had to get Jaz to leave before something truly terrible happened. But how, seeing as how I hadn’t actually invited her in the first place? Even with
vampires, you have to ask them inside.

  So while Jaz tossed Nicole chips and Nicole tried and failed to catch them in her mouth and Lacey pretended she was deeply interested in my Amy Winehouse memorabilia (which from past experience, I knew she wasn’t), I made a mental list of ways I might get Jaz to go away so I could talk to Lacey in peace.

  1. Say the evening is over and go to bed. (No. Jaz would climb in with me.)

  2. Fake a serious disease. (No. Nicole would probably catch it.)

  3. Have a huge fight and make Jaz storm out. (No. Jaz would win, and I’d storm out, and then I would be homeless, and although the new house was not much fun, it was better than a park bench.)

  4. Use reverse psychology and tell Jaz that I want her to stay. (This could actually work. Nice one, me.)

  I grinned and lay back against the wall, very casual, trying not to notice that Nicole was pulling the shade off my bedside lamp. “So, this has been a really fun evening.”

  “Huh,” said Lacey.

  “I’m so glad I’m riding the bus with you now,” I said to Jaz. “It’s brilliant.”

  “It’s all right,” said Jaz, but I could tell she was pleased.

  “What’s great about it, Jaz, is that we get to hang out some more,” I said. “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you at school because of all the…all the…”

  “Skipping school?” said Lacey.

  “And now we can do stuff. Which is why you should definitely stay a lot longer if you want. Stay the night even!”

  I threw a quick glance at Lacey with an expression that made it clear I was doing some very clever mind trickery that was going to get rid of Jaz pronto, so we could enjoy some one-on-one friend time.

  “If she’s staying, then I think I’m going to head off.”

  “What?! No, Lace, you don’t understand. I don’t…I mean, I want you all to stay. Especially you. Nicole, maybe don’t put that in your mouth. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “I gave up seeing Grandma’s kitten to come over here. Because I thought we were going to watch Mean Girls together.” Lacey’s skin was normally this soft, milky color, but now she’d flushed a bright and—I have to say, quite unattractive—shade of tomato.

  “We can watch Mean Girls,” said Jaz. “I’ve got this great game. Any time Lindsay Lohan sits down, you have to drink—”

  “I thought we were going to watch Mean Girls,” said Lacey, blinking fast. “To make up for not walking to school together.”

  “And we will—”

  “So how come you invited Mad Jaz—oh, dear.”

  “Mad Jaz?” said Mad Jaz.

  “That’s Katie’s secret nickname for you,” said Lacey. “It just slipped out. Whoops.”

  “Why do you think I’m mad?” said Jaz as I inwardly curled up into a tiny ball and rolled under the bed while outwardly I tried to look unbothered and respectful of Jaz.

  “Just, you know.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Oh, dear, this is embarrassing,” said Lacey, looking the happiest she’d looked all evening.

  “It’s j-just,” I stuttered, “that you sometimes do things that are a little…unexpected.”

  “I love it. Mad Jaz! Best nickname ever. Thanks, Katie. Are you drinking that beer?”

  “Maybe everyone should go home,” I said, “Lace, it’s not late. You could probably still see the kitten. And Jaz, you can…go and do…Jaz stuff.”

  Amazingly, it worked. Everyone got up and started moving toward the door.

  “Bye,” I said, shepherding them all down the stairs, which made ominous creaking noises as they went. “Great seeing you. So much fun. Bye. Bye-bye!”

  Then they were picking their way through the weeds in the front yard, and thank goodness it was almost over. I was just deciding to pretend that none of it had happened when I had this sudden thought.

  “Er, Jaz?” I called down the path. “You won’t post any of this online, will you?”

  Jaz turned and smiled, her teeth shining white through the dusk. “I already have.”

  At breakfast the next morning, there was kind of a tense atmosphere. I know this because I was the one creating it.

  “I see you had a party last night,” said Mom, looking meaningfully at the pile of fish and chip wrappers next to the trash can. “I hope you had a good time.”

  “Not really,” I said.

  “I had fun,” said Adrian, giving his hair (head, not nose) a quick fluff. “And your friend Jaz? She’s quite something.”

  “I hate Jaz,” I said. Amanda raised her eyebrows. “Okay, not hate, but…she’s not my friend, all right? She’s just someone I know who came over for the evening. That’s all. And from now on, can everyone please mind their own business?”

  “What’s upset her so much?” said Mom.

  “You know Katie,” said Amanda as though I wasn’t standing right there next to them. “Drama queen. We’re running out of Cocoa Krispies. It’s the world’s greatest ever disaster.”

  It was pretty disastrous, actually. But it wasn’t why I was so upset. Although I have to say, it didn’t help.

  What’s the first thing you do when someone tells you they’ve put a video of you online?

  You go and watch it.

  Only I couldn’t because my phone was dead. And the Wi-Fi, which had been the one thing that had been okay about the new house, suddenly ceased to exist.

  I’d given it an hour and tried turning the box off and on and then off and then on. And smacking it against the wall just in case. It was working because the lights were on, but however much I refreshed the connection, our Wi-Fi wouldn’t come on.

  I’d gone to bed with this itchy, crawly feeling that there was all this stuff out there and I couldn’t see it. Not to mention all the other stuff I was missing. Devi Lester’s latest conspiracy theory, whatever disgusting thing Nicole was up to, the pictures of Lacey’s grandma’s kitten. It was like not being invited to a party. And as I literally hadn’t been invited to Savannah’s party, I wasn’t feeling too great.

  “Can someone please tell me why the Wi-Fi has stopped working?” I said.

  “Oh. Yeah. That’s switched off for the time being,” said Adrian, who was wearing his leather jacket at the breakfast table, the weirdo.

  “What’s the time being? Because I’m going to need it tonight.”

  He creaked. Or his jacket did. “The foreseeable future.”

  “What?” My breathing became shallow. “I cannot foresee a future without Wi-Fi.”

  “Money’s kind of tight right now. Business is a little down. There are a few things wrong with the house that need to be fixed—”

  “Like having no Wi-Fi.”

  “It was either that or turn off the water!” he laughed.

  I wasn’t laughing. “Then I’ll go without water.”

  “Adrian, why don’t you go and unpack…something?” said Mom.

  He shot out of the kitchen, and, simultaneously, Mom and Amanda leaned in.

  “How can you be so rude?”

  “It’s not his fault.”

  Which was pushing it. “He told us to buy the house, didn’t he?”

  “You should be nicer to him,” said Amanda.

  “You’re right,” I replied. “I should jam with him and maybe play all my private songs that I thought were just between the two of us.”

  She flinched. “I’m going to help Adrian unpack…some…thing.”

  Now it was me and Mom and a table’s worth of breakfast dishes.

  I wouldn’t say anything else, I decided. Not while I was so worked up. I’d only talk my way into trouble.

  Unfortunately, Mom has this killer technique for getting me to open up. I think she learned it at nursing school. It involves kneeling down and brushing the hair out of my eyes and say
ing, “Katie, love, what is it? Are you okay? Because I’m worried about you.”

  I lasted all of nine seconds.

  “It’s just the house.”

  Wrong answer. She stood back up again.

  “We’re all upset about the house,” said Mom.

  “And I guess, Adrian.”

  “What about Adrian?” asked Mom, swinging around to the sink.

  “Um.”

  “Do you have a problem with Adrian?” Now she was doing some really intense washing up. The sort of washing up that made it clear she didn’t want to hear the answer.

  “No,” I said.

  More big long gap.

  Don’t say it, I thought. It won’t help.

  Scrub scrub, splish splish.

  “It’s just…I thought you weren’t going to go out with another musician. Because of Dad and everything. You kept saying it all through the breakup. And now—”

  “Adrian is not a musician,” said Mom, and she said it very fast and very sharp. “He’s in retail.”

  “He was in a band though.”

  “That was then.”

  “And he’s always noodling around on the guitar, isn’t he? Him and Amanda—”

  “I think Amanda’s been terrific recently,” said Mom. “Very calm, very supportive.” I was clearly being invited to consider another member of the family who hadn’t been quite so angelic.

  “Yeah,” I said. It was becoming obvious that Mom didn’t want to know why I’d been such a grump. She just wanted the grumping to stop.

  “And what’s the big deal about the Wi-Fi? Why can’t you use your phone?”

  “Ah,” I said. “About that. It’s sort of…broken.”

  Mom did that thing she does when she is being Ms. Calm-in-the-Face-of-Adversity. The current adversity being me. “You broke your birthday present?”

  “I didn’t break it, okay? This boy on the bus threw it out the window.”

  “I guess I thought you’d take better care of it. That phone was incredibly expensive.”