The Rockstar Chronicles

The Procession

"So?" Mom asked as we slid into the car. My sweaty skin felt sticky against the seat. I couldn't wait for a shower. "How was practice?"

"Fine," I said before Grady got a chance to speak. I had my own questions for Mom. "How was your meeting? What's the schedule going to be like?" Mom ignored me, tapping instead on her phone.

Our car pulled smoothly ahead, following the line of identical black cars ferrying the boys to their homes in front of us. A morbid thought popped into my head as I watched several passing cars pull over on the shoulder of the road. A funeral procession.

They think we're part of a funeral procession. In the South, it was still customary to pull over out of respect for the dead and their family as a funeral procession passed. I felt tears sting my eyes as a giggle escaped my lips.

A giddy panic was coming over me. "Corpses," I whispered.

"What?" Mom asked as she slid her phone into her purse, shooting me a worried look.

"That's what they think we are," I said, pointing out the window.

"Lindy, are you okay?" Mom asked. She actually looked worried.

I turned in my seat, staring at the line of cars behind us reentering the roadway as we passed. "Of course I'm okay. I said they thought we were part of a funeral procession." I watched as they disappeared and I wondered who they were and if their lives were as crazy as ours.

"Oh," Mom waived her hand dismissively, setting back in her seat after a quick glance at them. "You're probably right, Lindy. I bet they've never seen something like us before." She laughed. "Wouldn't they be amazed if they knew who was in these cars?" She raised one eyebrow as she glanced at me, eyes twinkling. "And they'll know all about you in a few months."

I turned around, plopping back into my seat. While I had been looking behind us, the others cars had turned off and now only Hardyn's remained in front of us, leading the way home. "Mom, what's the schedule going to be like?"

"Schedule?"

"For this fall," I said, impatient.

Mom shuffled through a stack of papers in her binder, squinting in concentration. "Not too bad. I do need to go over it though and make sure we don't have any personal conflicts. We shouldn't though. I mean, what could we have going on that would be more important than Grady's tour?"

There were so many things wrong with what Mom just said that I ignored it entirely. "What about school? Am I going to have to miss many days? Because I don't want to do this if I am," I warned her.

Mom slapped the papers down, lifting her eyes to the heavens as if she were exasperated with me. "Lindy, why do you always have to be so obstinate?"

"I'm not being obstinate," I said obstinately. I crossed my arms, staring out the window. "But I want to go to school. I don't have any friends here." And I barely had any friends at home, I added silently.

"Lindy, that's not true," Mom said. "My goodness, you should be an actress with the way you exaggerate. Don't be so melodramatic."

"Name one!" I challenged her and Mom opened her mouth to respond. "That's not in the band." She snapped her mouth shut.

"What about your Mrs. Crabapple?" she asked after several moments of careful consideration.

"Mom! It's Mrs. Crabtree," I said. "And she's like, seventy years old! I mean, yeah, she's my friend, but I meant friends my age."

"You're being ridiculous, Lindy," Mom said. "The boys are all your friends. And who cares of your friends with some kid from down the street? These are the friends you should be making."

I sighed loudly. We were almost home. I didn't have much more time to confront her before she escaped to her office. "So, the schedule?"

"It's fine, Lindy. You will be fine."

"And I can go to school?"

"Yes, of course," Mom narrowed her eyes at me. "Let's just concentrate on getting through the summer for now. Grady, how was practice?"

I uncrossed my arms, satisfied. As long as I could escape to school after this summer, I knew I could get through it. Besides, I still had my plans in place for this fall.

"I think I did okay," Grady said, glancing nervously at me as if he was afraid I was going to disagree. I only nodded and Grady relaxed slightly. "But Bridge and Ryder didn't do too great. Or Tom."

Mom snorted, shifting angrily in her seat. "I don't know why they hired Tom Dawson. He's never going to be what this band needs. I bet he looked just terrible next to you." She reached over, patting Grady's hand with a smile.

I felt sick to my stomach. Mom was happy Tom hadn't done well. She wanted him to fail. Her next words made my blood run cold.

She smiled slightly as the car pulled to a smooth stop in front of our house. Outside, a maintenance crew mowed the lawn and trimmed the hedges, restoring our home to perfect order once more.

"That's what Tom Dawson should be doing," she said, nodding towards the crew. "He should be mowing our lawn like he deserves."

I stared at Mom, speechless. And then the car door swung open and a wide smile appeared on Mom's face as she took the driver's offered hand, thanking him profusely.