I'm Not in the Band Read online

  He pulls out his phone, aiming it in my direction.

  Instinctually, my hands fly to my face.

  “C’mon.” Archer’s fingers fold over mine. They are warm and strong. I allow him to tug my hand down, even though my cheeks are now on fire. “We have to get a picture.”

  “Fine.” There’s no way I can say no to him now. Not with his hands touching mine.

  As I stand for the picture, I look curiously around the room. Actually, for seeming to be drunk, most of the other women’s paintings look a lot better than Archer’s and mine.

  “Maybe we should grab one of their paintings and take a picture with it,” I joke.

  Archer laughs. “I’m game if you are.”

  “No.” I shake my head, afraid he might steal one of their paintings. As if this night hasn’t been humiliating enough. “It was a joke.”

  “All right.” He throws up his arms in surrender. “Then you have no choice but to pick up your painting of the giant flower.”

  “Everybody likes flowers, Archer,” I say, grabbing my painting.

  “That’s assuming anyone can tell yours is a flower.” He holds his picture out in front of him.

  “Hey, at least I only painted on the actual canvas.”

  Smiling, he shakes his head.

  “Want me to get a picture of you two?” The teacher walks toward us.

  “Sure.” Archer hands her his phone, then motions me over. “C’mon.”

  I stand next to Archer, our shoulders pressed together, canvases in front of us. He smells like soap and sunshine, and my pulse quickens. The teacher clicks the picture, then gives Archer back his phone. Our faces fill the screen, smiling and flushed. It’s hard to believe that girl is me.

  She looks too relaxed, too happy, too free.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Archer

  @archerdev1 That moment when you try to put paint on a canvas but end up splattering it all over a girl’s face. #paintingfail #imnopicasso #guyproblems

  Mac: You painted her face?

  Me: Accidentally.

  Mac: How?

  Me: I was trying to paint flowers.

  Mac: And you thought her face was the canvas?

  Me: You had to be there.

  Mac: I bet she wishes she wasn’t there.

  Me: Nah. She was cool about it.

  Mac: Sure.

  Me: She was.

  Mac: Most girls hate stuff like that.

  Me: She’s not like other girls.

  …

  Mom: Ross said something about you painting a girl’s face. What is that about?

  …

  Me: Why are you talking to Mom about me?

  Ross: Gets her off my back.

  Me: Or maybe my life is more exciting than yours.

  Ross: You wish.

  Archer: It’s more entertaining than you dancing around shirtless on stage.

  Ross: I get paid good money to do that.

  Archer: For prostitution?

  Ross: I’m not getting paid to sleep with anyone.

  Archer: Stripper, then.

  Ross: I do more than dance with my shirt off.

  Archer: I must’ve missed that concert.

  Ross: At least I know how to act on a date.

  Archer: Yeah, you take your shirt off.

  Ross: Don’t paint the girl’s face.

  Archer: Do you let them paint your bare chest?

  Ross: You’re really jealous of my chest, aren’t you?

  Archer: Whatever. Just don’t talk to Mom about me anymore.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kassidy

  #10—Become the girl everyone’s talking about

  “Get out your notebooks,” Mr. Williams says as soon as the bell rings.

  Miranda rushes into the room and plunks down into her seat. Her hair is crazy, as if she didn’t even brush it, and her cheeks are flushed. I hear a few snickers and hushed voices farther back in the class. But Miranda doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe she’s good at ignoring it. That’s always been my tactic, too, and it works. At least to a point. Leaning over, she whispers, “Guess he’s on time today, huh? Way to ruin my Monday.”

  I suppress a giggle, since Mr. Williams’s gaze has made it over to us.

  “Every class period from here on out we will start with a warm-up. Sometimes it will pertain to the book we’re reading. Other days it will be personal. You’ll start working on your first essay of the year in about a month. Spoiler alert: it’s going to be about a defining moment in your life.”

  My body freezes, my shoulders tensing up. A defining moment? There’s only one that comes to mind, and I don’t want to write about it.

  “As we get closer to starting that, some of your warm-ups will pertain to it. I’ll give you prompts to assist you in that assignment.” Turning around, he writes on the whiteboard. “But today, I’ll make it easy. Just write about what you did over the weekend.”

  It may be my imagination, but I feel all eyes on me, as if the whole class is staring in my direction. Shivering, I grab my pen and hunch over.

  “I know what you’re gonna write about,” Miranda says under her breath in a sing-song way, wearing a teasing smile.

  “You do?”

  “Everyone does. Archer posted it all over social media.”

  “Oh. Right.” The picture. I ’d almost forgotten.

  She winks. “You’re the talk of the hallways this morning.”

  At Hamilton, I was never the subject of gossip. I was always Kate’s sidekick. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  “Why is it such a big deal?” Guys and girls hang out all the time. And it’s not like Archer is Mr. Popular.

  “Because you’re the first girl Archer’s paid attention to in a long time. And you’re new, so people are curious about you.”

  “It seems like a lot of girls talk to Archer,” I point out, confused.

  “Yeah.” She nods, scrawling some words on her paper. Mr. Williams glances over, so I duck my head and write a few more sentences. “But you’re the only girl he’s hung out with since Tiffany.”

  My stomach sours. “The pretty blonde?”

  “That’s her.” Her nose scrunches up in disgust.

  “They were together?”

  “Yeah, but not very long. Pretty sure she was just using him to get to Ross.”

  Her words unsettle me. When I met him, he’d thought I’d mistaken him for his brother, and the darkness in his eyes was striking.

  “No, I’m not surprised that Archer spent the weekend with her,” Ella’s voice travels across the room. She’s bent over as if she’s having a private conversation, but she’s speaking well above a whisper. “He’s helping out the new girl. I think it’s sweet. I even told him so when we talked this morning. We’re probably going out next weekend.”

  “Ms. Marsh, keep it down, please,” Mr. Williams finally chimes in. Took him long enough. “Just a few more minutes, class.”

  Hands shaking, I attempt to finish writing, but it’s a losing battle. When I started the warm-up, I’d felt nothing but excitement. Now my incredible weekend has been tainted with thoughts of Tiffany and Ella.

  “Hey,” Miranda leans toward me. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just trying to get under your skin.”

  Well, it’s working. Several students stare in my direction. Skin burning, I slide down in my chair. Dropping my head, I allow my hair to fall like a curtain over my face. I want to go back to being the invisible girl.

  “All right.” Mr. Williams stands. “Go ahead and put away your warm-ups for today. It’s time to move on.”

  Thank god.

  …

  “You washed your face,” Mac says when I join them in the quad. Archer is leaning against a pole, his legs extended while Mac sits across from him. Both have their lunches spread out before them. I take a seat next to Archer, placing my backpack between my legs.

  “Excuse me?” Perplexed, I look at Archer. But he only shrugs.

  “T
he paint,” Mac says, eyebrows raised.

  “Yes, I’ve washed my face since Saturday,” I say drily.

  Mac and Archer laugh. My insides warm. Reaching into backpack I pull out a baggie of carrots.

  “Chicks and their health food,” Mac comments, eyeing me as I take a bite.

  The carrot snaps between my teeth. “What’s wrong with wanting to be healthy?”

  “Nothing. I just prefer good food,” Mac shoots back.

  “Healthy food can be good,” I insist, taking another bite of my carrot.

  “It can, it’s just not.” Mac throws me a triumphant smile as if he thinks he’s won the argument.

  “Kassidy takes this kinda stuff pretty seriously,” Archer says, and by his tone I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “Did you know she’s also a runner?”

  My cheeks flame.

  “Then I guess you’re going to be pretty busy starting next week,” Mac says.

  I shake my head. “Why?”

  “Cross-country starts,” Archer says. “Aren’t you on the team?”

  “No.” I’d never considered it. I didn’t start running until the summertime

  “You should join,” Archer says.

  “Maybe,” I answer noncommittally. I’ve pretty much sucked at every activity I’ve attempted. There was the time I tried out for cheerleading with Kate and bumbled all the moves. She made the team, and I didn’t. Then there was soccer where I kicked a girl’s shin instead of the ball. The worst was when Kate wanted me to try out for choir, though. Calling me tone deaf would be an understatement. But maybe track would be different.

  “Did you guys finish the movies on Friday?” Mac asks.

  “No. We only got through one,” Archer answers.

  Mac swallows down a bite of his sandwich, his neck swelling with the effort. “You watched the rest of them by yourself?”

  Archer shakes his head. “No. With Ross home there wasn’t time.”

  “He’s gone now?” Crazy to think about living that way. Flying in and out of towns so quickly.

  “Yeah,” Archer answers woodenly. “He left yesterday morning. Thanks again for not saying anything to anyone. It gets crazy when people find out he’s in town.”

  “Yeah. All those girls swarming his house. It’s awful,” Mac jokes.

  Ignoring him, Archer shakes his head. “We could finish the movies up this weekend. Ross for sure won’t crash the party. What do you say?” His gaze sweeps over both of us.

  Mac shakes his head. “No way. One was enough for me.”

  “You didn’t even get through one.” Archer points out.

  “Exactly.” Mac nods firmly.

  “Maybe you and Ella could watch them.” Once the words are out, I inhale sharply, stunned that I said them out loud. I’m not usually a confrontational person.

  “Ella Marsh?” Archer sets down his sandwich wrapper, his eyebrows furrowing.

  Swallowing hard, I nod. My palms are sweating, so I nervously wipe them on the thigh of my jeans. “She sort of mentioned something in English today about how you two might be going out this weekend.”

  “Nah, I’m not going out with Ella,” Archer answers, as if it’s the most preposterous thing in the world.

  “Then why’d she say that?” Mac asks the question I’m thinking.

  Sitting forward, I intently await a response.

  “She kinda cornered me in the hallway this morning,” Archer confesses, causing Mac’s mouth to go slack.

  “And you’re just now telling me?”

  “It wasn’t that big of a deal, Mac. Like I said, I don’t want to go out with her.” Archer lowers his gaze. “She’s just another one trying to get close to Ross.”

  …

  “So, tell me how it went today. Did Archer ask you out again?” Sophie nudges me over and slides onto the bed next to me. She returned home from work a few minutes ago and immediately came into my room to give me the third degree. Not that I’m surprised. This is the moment Sophie has been waiting for. The moment when her little sister would become as boy-crazy as she is.

  Nancy Drew meows and leaps down from the bed, quickly making her way to the door.

  “I swear, that cat hates me.” Sophie turns up her nose. I giggle lightly. “Anyway, tell me all about Archer.”

  Pushing my binder off my lap, I chew on my lower lip.

  “Uh oh,” Sophie says. “What happened?”

  “Nothing. Archer was fine.”

  “Just fine?” She raises her eyebrows, appraising me. The scrutiny of her gaze makes me uncomfortable. Reaching up, I finger the tendrils of hair that have escaped from my messy bun. As usual, Sophie is so much more put together than I am. Her hair falls down her shoulders in long, flowing waves, and her makeup is flawless.

  “Yep,” I say.

  Her hand lands on my mine. “What’s going on, Kass?”

  “Nothing.” I wave away her concern. “It’s stupid.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. Sophie and I have matching ones. Mom bought them both at the same time. In fact, our rooms are decorated almost identically, except that Sophie’s is all in pastel colors, where I favor black and white.

  “What’s stupid?”

  She’s like a dog looking for a bone. Once she knows it’s there she won’t give up. “I’m starting to wonder if Archer only likes me because I’m not into his brother.”

  “Why?”

  I tell her everything.

  “I just kinda got the impression that maybe he would want to date Ella if he knew she liked him and not his brother,” I say after catching her up.

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “How would I say that?”

  “Exactly like you just said it to me.”

  “I don’t know.” Squirming, I bite my lip. “I mean, I don’t even know him that well. We just started talking. It’s not like I’m his girlfriend.”

  “Do you want to be?”

  “I don’t know.” Glancing out the window, I stare out at the darkening sky. “Maybe.”

  “For what it’s worth, I really think he likes you for you.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Archer

  @tiffengle Apparently nerd is in now. #whoknew #iblamehollywood #wheresmydate #hotgirlproblems

  Me: I’m gonna do it.

  Mac: Come out of the closet?

  Me: Ha!

  Mac: I’ll support you no matter what, but we’re not dating. I like girls.

  Me: Me too, you idiot.

  Mac: Is that any way to talk to the guy you like?

  Me: I’m close to never talking to you again.

  Mac: Okay. What are you really going to do?

  Me: Ask Kassidy out on a date.

  Mac: Don’t take her painting this time.

  Me: I won’t. I’m asking her to see the Rocketlaunchers.

  Mac: Don’t launch a rocket at her face.

  Me: The Rocketlaunchers are a band.

  Mac: What a stupid name.

  Me: Yeah, but she likes them, and Ross got us tickets.

  …

  Ross: What’s up?

  Me: I’m about to ask Kassidy about the concert.

  Ross: Sweet. Text me after.

  …

  Me: Guess what?

  Kassidy: What?

  Me: My brother scored those tickets for the Rocketlaunchers’ concert.

  Kassidy: He did?

  Me: Yep.

  Kassidy: Awesome!

  Me: It’s next Saturday in SF.

  Kassidy: Super cool.

  Me: Do you want to go with me?

  Kassidy: Of course! Are you sure you want to go?

  Me: Yep.

  Kassidy: But I know you’re not a fan.

  Me: It’s the least I can do to make up for painting your face.

  Kassidy: This would do it.

  Me: So, it’s a yes?

  Kassidy: I just have to ask my parents.


  …

  Ross: What did she say?

  Me: She has to ask her parents.

  Ross: Ooh, shot down.

  Me: Dick.

  Ross: Did you forget the word “big”?

  Me: No, I forgot the word “tiny.”

  Ross: Are we talking about yours?

  Me: Screw you.

  Ross: Hey, don’t take it out on me. I didn’t turn you down.

  Me: She didn’t. She’ll come.

  Ross: Someone’s cocky.

  Me: Nah. I just know how much she likes the Rocketlaunchers.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kassidy

  #11—Have a boy over for dinner

  “Okay, now we have to measure the mass of a penny.” I rattle off the instructions to Archer.

  “Like with our fingers?” He jokes, pressing his fingertip over the tiny copper circle.

  “Like with the scales and the super-complicated formula they gave us,” I say.

  “I’d rather use my fingers,” Archer says, nudging me in the shoulder. “I’m good with my hands.”

  My face flames, my gaze sliding involuntarily down to his fingers. My skin buzzes even though I know he’s being his usual sarcastic self.

  I clear my throat. “Well, using our hands probably would be easier.”

  “I’m guessing science isn’t your major?”

  I shrug. “I’m not sure, actually.” Around us, chatter swells as the other students work on their chemistry lab as well. “My dad thinks I should major in business.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  Feeling someone staring at me, I glance over my shoulder. Tiffany’s eyes are narrowed as she watches Archer and me from her table. Ignoring her, I turn back around.

  “Crime scene investigating would be cool.”

  He stops writing and lifts his head, his eyes bugging out. “Are you serious?”

  My stomach dips. Is it that stupid? “You sound exactly like Sophie and my parents.”

  “Sorry. I just…”

  “I know I don’t seem like the CSI type. And maybe I’m not. I’ve never actually done it. But I love reading mystery stories and watching them on TV. And, okay, I know that doesn’t qualify me to go into the field. But I just find it kind of cool.”

  “If it’s something you think you’d like, you should do it.”