Out of Tune

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Every song is like a painting—Dick Dale

The crowds at Vibe Fest amassed at the Empire Polo Club in Indio, California. Bigger crowds than Lennon had ever seen. Tens of thousands, if not a hundred thousand. Not as many as Coachella, of course, but enough that the people looked like a sea. Impossible to count from the stage.

"This is insanity," Miles said, looking around at the throngs of people, all piling in towards the stage where one of the other early morning acts were performing.

Lennon had taken a look through the lineup the previous evening as they'd driven from Los Altos to Indio. It was over a seven-hour drive and so they'd all taken the Friday off of school to arrive the night before they had to perform. Most of their teachers were in the stage of reviewing the semester, preparing for the final exams that were to be taking place in the next two weeks so taking that time had been easy to get their parents' approval for.

Hell, most of their parents had taken the time off from work to join them. Anna and Rafa had carpooled with Miles' and Taylor's parents. Zeke and Charlie had both arrived separately, making the commute with their respective families.

Lennon hadn't bothered inviting her mother or Brad to the festival. Had known that it wouldn't be worth it to have that conversation – even if she and her mom had been conversing more over text. They'd gone for coffee again and while it had been strained and awkward, Lennon had managed to stay for an entire forty-five minutes without the urge to storm out.

It was progress. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

She wasn't disappointed to be the only one of the band without parental support at the event. Not when she knew that Phil and Isaiah, along with everyone else at The Vault had sworn that they were going to tune into the live stream that Taylor was going to be running on her phone of the band's performance through their social media accounts. With their support, and that of her friends and their families, Lennon had enough.

With an hour before they were due to be on stage, the band had crept from the trailer that the festival had provided them with a green room to get ready and meandered out towards the main stage. Currently performing was Michaela Ramos, a Latin-American singer who had just signed a recording deal and was projected to be the next big Spanish-singing music star.

"I don't know that I've ever seen this many people," Spencer said. He gripped tight to Lennon's hand, as if afraid that he might lose her to the masses.

"I've been to festivals before but nothing on this scale," Lennon replied. "I can't believe we're going to be performing in front of all of these people in an hour. It's a bit nerve-racking."

Spencer laughed. "You're freaking out now? Since when are you the nervous one? I thought that was Zeke's job?"

"Hey! I do not get nervous. That's Charlie's thing." Zeke pointed his finger in Spencer's direction and then jabbed his thumb towards Charlie.

Charlie just blinked, his dark eyes betraying nothing. Then, he said with resolute finality, "No."

Lennon caught Spencer's eye and had to bit her lip to refrain from laughing. Of course, that had been his intention from the start and she was grateful for it now. "Thanks," she murmured to him.

Spencer winked and paused briefly to kiss her cheek before pulling her along to where Miles and Taylor were walking a few feet ahead.