Totally Unrelated Page 5

  She starts playing, and once she gets past the intro, we both start singing. I’d expected it to be horrible, that I’d screw up the tune right away. Instead, I find that I’m able to sing a harmony line naturally, all the way through. The melody guides me, and I just do my best to sing along in a way that complements Sandy’s voice.

  We come to the end and Bert immediately starts clapping. “Awesome!” he says.

  “Really?” I ask them.

  “Sounded great,” says Sandy.

  “What did you think, Beast?” I ask, turning toward the couch, but he’s in the process of killing a ninja and doesn’t pay any attention to me.

  “The real question is, what did you think?” says Sandy.

  “It was okay,” I say. She raises an eyebrow at me. “Okay, I admit it. It sounds better. We should do it with harmonies.”

  “Well, we better start practicing the new version,” says Bert. “It’s not like we’ve got much time left.”

  Ten

  The Welcome to Deep Cove sign on the outskirts of town claims that we are home to eighteen hundred people, but Gran always says our true population is many times larger than that. During Deep Cove Days it definitely feels that way, as people who were born and raised here make the trek home from Ontario, Alberta and even farther afield. Many of them have been gone for a long time and have raised families and made lives for themselves elsewhere, but they still flock home in droves every year at the end of July to hang out with family and old friends.

  Things always kick off with a parade on Monday morning. Shamus and Johnny will be marching with the Scottish Pipes and Drums band, so Mom and Dad cancel morning rehearsal, even though we’re scheduled to play in the park in the evening.

  I meet up with Sandy and Bert downtown, and we push through the crowds gathering on Main Street until we find a place to stand and watch the parade. It takes awhile because I keep running into people I know, and everyone wants to tell me how cool it is that we’re going to be playing with Vince Beach.

  “Jeez, Neil,” says Bert. “You’re an even bigger celebrity than usual.”

  “Whatever,” I say, although I’m secretly pleased that Sandy is here to see me getting the attention. I know it’s kind of conceited, but I can’t help it.

  People cheer as the parade approaches, led by the Pipes and Drums.

  “I can’t believe your brothers wear kilts for this!” says Bert as they walk past us.

  “That’s how it works,” I say. I’ve made fun of them for that too in the past, but as they march by us, I feel a flush of pride. The music even sends a little chill up my spine when I remember that this is how my ancestors would have marched off to war.

  As the first of the floats glides by, Bert shoves his way to the front of the crowd to compete with the little kids for the candy being thrown down to the street.

  “You know,” says Sandy, “I was so worried about coming here for the summer. I thought it would be super boring, hanging out with my grandmother and Bailey. I’m so happy that I met you guys.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “It’s cool.” I really have to work on my vocabulary.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to sing in front of an audience,” she goes on. “It’s something I’ve always kind of wanted to do.” She gives me a playful shove. “I guess I just needed to run into a professional musician to make it happen.”

  “Well, it was pretty much Bert’s idea,” I say. “I mean, the talent-show thing was his idea. You were my idea. I mean, your singing with us was my idea.”

  She laughs. “I know what you mean. Anyway, I’m really happy you asked.”

  I have trouble focusing on the rest of the parade. Floats and clowns and costumed kids on bicycles pass by us, but I keep looking out of the corner of my eye at Sandy. She stands next to me, clapping and cheering with the rest of the crowd, and I feel all light and goofy knowing that she actually wants to hang out with me.

  When the last of the parade has gone by, the crowd dissipates and Bert comes back over to us, his hands full of candy.

  “Check out this haul!” he says, shoving a Tootsie Roll into his mouth.

  Sandy’s phone buzzes, and she pulls it out of her pocket. “I gotta go,” she says. “I have to meet Grandma and Beast for lunch. We’re coming to your show tonight—see you there?”

  “For sure,” I tell her. “We should practice tomorrow too.”

  “Sounds awesome,” she says. “I’m getting so excited! Can you believe it’s happening in just three days?”

  “I know,” I say. “It’s pretty crazy.”

  “Crazy awesome,” says Bert. “We’re gonna be rock stars!”

  Sandy walks away down the sidewalk, turning to wave at us one last time.

  “You gonna make a move on her or what?” Bert asks.

  “I dunno,” I say.

  “Well, you’re an idiot if you don’t,” he says. “I’m pretty sure she likes you.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, she doesn’t like me,” he says. “And the only explanation for that is that she’s already into someone else. Judging from the way she looks at you when we’re playing, I’d say it’s a safe bet.”

  I wonder what I’m supposed to do, or say, to find out if he’s right. All I know is that it probably makes sense to wait and see what happens at the talent show.

  “Man,” says Bert. “I’d kill to be able to play guitar as good as you. Chicks love a guitar player. Stupid drums.”

  * * *

  Since the first year we started performing, the Family McClintock has put on a show in the park during Deep Cove Days. We usually get a decent crowd, but this year the park is jam-packed.

  “This is nuts,” Shamus says to me as we’re setting up the sound system on the makeshift plywood stage. “I can’t believe how many people are here!”

  “I know,” I say. “You think they’re really here just to see us?”

  “Neil!” my father calls from behind the stage, where he and Mom are working out a set list.

  I jump off the stage and walk over to them. “What’s up?”

  “Your mother and I have been talking,” he says. “We both agree that you deserve some credit for all the extra practice you’ve been putting in.”

  “It hasn’t gone unnoticed, Neil,” Mom says. “You’ve been playing better than ever these past few weeks.”

  “Cool,” I say. “Thanks.”

  “Question for you,” says Dad. “Remember when you showed me that little riff you worked out for ‘Off to the Dance’? You think you can still play it?”

  “For sure,” I say.

  “Okay, good,” he says. “I’ll fill everyone in before we go onstage, but it should be pretty straightforward. We’re just going to add four bars near the beginning, after Shamus comes in, and then you do your thing, and then Mom will come in the way she always does. Sound good?”

  “Totally,” I say. “Thanks.”

  Mom reaches out and pulls me in for a hug. “You’re a big part of this team, Neil,” she says. “You’ve definitely earned some spotlight of your own.”

  Before we go on, we huddle backstage and Dad quickly runs through the set list, taking a minute to explain the changes to “Off to the Dance.” Then we climb onstage in the usual order. Mom and Dad go on first, followed by the twins, then Shamus and Kathy and finally me and Johnny. We all grab our instruments and take our places as the crowd gives us an enthusiastic welcome, full of hoots and hollers. Dad steps up to the mic.

  “Welcome home!” he yells. Everyone cheers in response. “This is always our favorite concert of the year, and it’s a great honor and a lot of fun to help kick off Deep Cove Days. So we hope you enjoy the show, and if you feel like dancing, you’re in the right place!”

  Things go off without a hitch. We start with “Off to the Dance,” and when it’s time for my new part, I step to the front of the stage and give it everything I’ve got, riffing and picking as quickly and energetically as I can. It’s over in secon
ds, but when I’m finished and take a couple of steps back, the crowd cheers and claps for me. I’m used to hearing the crowd break out in applause when the twins dance, or Kathy sings, or Shamus, Johnny, Mom and Dad do their solos, but it’s the first time I’ve heard applause directed straight at me. It feels awesome. I glance at Kathy, who winks at me and gives me a subtle thumbs-up.

  The rest of the show is a doozy. I’ve got adrenaline coursing through my veins, and the rest of my family is obviously having as much fun as I am. When the girls are dancing, it’s like they’re floating on air. When Mom and Dad do a piano and fiddle duet, the music sounds pure and perfect. Even Johnny’s pipes seem to have a mind of their own, blasting out confidently whenever they’re needed.

  Best of all is the audience. People are soaking us up, shouting and clapping and dancing in circles with each other. They scream so much at the end of the show that we give them three encores, the last songs of the night coinciding with a beautiful sunset. It’s like something out of a movie. I glance down at one point and spot Sandy and her family near the front of the stage. She throws both her hands up and waves at me excitedly, as if she’s been watching me this whole time, waiting for me to see her.

  I’m on such a high after the show that I’m almost vibrating. I’ve been doing this for years, but for the first time I really feel like I’m a full member of the band. I don’t even mind when Dad motions for us to follow him into the crowd when we’re finished.

  An old woman comes up to me and grabs me by both hands.

  “I moved to Boston when I was sixteen years old,” she tells me. “I used to come home every year, but after my husband died I stopped coming altogether. The last time I was home to Cape Breton was almost twenty years ago. I was worried that everything would be different. And it’s so nice to learn that the important things have stayed the same.”

  She stops talking, and her eyes fill up with tears.

  “You people keep the music alive,” she says. “God bless you.”

  She glances past me and smiles, then leans in to whisper to me. “You know,” she says, “girls love a good musician.”

  I turn around and see that Sandy is standing right behind me, waiting her turn.

  “Thanks very much,” I say to the lady. She smiles and pats me on the arm before moving away into the crowd.

  I turn to Sandy. “What did you think of the show?” I ask.

  She grins widely. “Are you kidding me?” she says. “You were so good, Neil. You were great the first time I saw you, but it was like you were possessed tonight!”

  “Thanks,” I say. “It was fun. Dad let me—” But I don’t have the chance to finish, because she’s leaning into me and kissing me, full on the lips, with all these people around. For a moment I don’t know what to do, but I pull myself together and return the kiss.

  She steps back and smiles. “I don’t know why I did that,” she says.

  “It’s okay,” I manage to squeak out.

  “Listen,” she says. “I have to go. But we’re going to practice tomorrow, right?”

  “Definitely,” I say.

  “Okay,” she says, and for a second we stand there smiling goofily at each other. “I’ll text you tomorrow,” she says. Then she disappears into the crowd.

  I stumble back to the side of the stage, where a steady line has formed at Gran’s merch table.

  “I have to say, boy,” says Gran as she counts out money and shoves T-shirts into bags, “I’ve seen every show you guys have ever done, and this was one of your best nights, hands down.”

  I have to agree with her. We’ve just finished one of our most awesome shows ever, I’m playing the best guitar of my life, in less than a week we’re going to be opening for a music superstar, and the girl I like just made the first move on me. I doubt I’ve ever had a better night in my life.

  Of course, it would be too much to ask for it to last.

  Eleven

  I’m lost in my thoughts and don’t realize that Dad is yelling for me until Gran pokes me in the arm and points him out. He’s standing backstage with some man I’ve never seen before.

  “Neil,” says Dad as I walk up to them, “this is an old friend of mine, Martin Teasdale. He’s the guy who helped us land the Vince Beach gig.”

  “Call me Marty,” he says, shaking my hand.

  “So you’re their manager?” I ask him.

  “No,” he says. “I work for the promotions company that’s coordinating the Halifax end of things. We were asked to find some local openers, and since I’ve been hearing good things about you guys, I decided to give your old man here a call. After what I just saw, I have to say I’m extremely happy I did. You guys were incredible!”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Seriously,” he goes on. “Just incredible. I can’t wait to hear you on the big stage. I know Vince is going to love you guys. So how do you feel, Neil? Getting excited about Thursday? Nervous?”

  For a moment I wonder how he’s heard about the talent show. But that just doesn’t make any sense.

  “Thursday?” I repeat.

  Marty laughs. “Of course you aren’t nervous,” he says. He turns to Dad. “I gotta say, you’ve raised a bunch of true professionals, McClintock. Listen, guys, I would love to hang out longer, but I have to drive all the way back to Halifax tonight, so I should hit the road. You know where you’re going, right?”

  “You bet,” says Dad. “We’ll be there bright and early.”

  “Good man,” says Marty. He shakes Dad’s hand and then reaches out and slaps me on the back. “See you guys on Thursday.”

  “Dad,” I say as Marty walks away, my heart sinking into my stomach, “what does he mean, on Thursday?”

  Dad gives me a funny look. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Vince Beach show is on Saturday, isn’t it? That’s what you told us.”

  “Yeah, but I had the date wrong. I told you guys about the change the next day at rehearsal. It’s been on the calendar for weeks, Neil.”

  My head starts to spin.

  “But Thursday is supposed to be our day off,” I say.

  “Come on, Neil,” says Dad. “You aren’t going to turn this into a problem, are you? Not after the show we had tonight. You did a great job up there, buddy. I’m proud of you, but it was just a warm-up. Aren’t you dying to get up in front of a really massive crowd on Thursday?”

  I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know what to do or how to explain to my father how horrible this is. Before I have the chance to say anything, he’s hustled me around to the back of the stage and called the rest of the family over to help tear down our equipment. Next thing I know, we’re packed up and driving home, and even though everyone else is chattering excitedly about the great show we’ve just had, I’m staring out the window of the bus, thinking about Bert and the Family McClintock and the Vince Beach Band and the awful way they’ve become tangled up with each other. Mostly, though, I’m thinking about Sandy and wondering if she’ll ever talk to me again if I bail on the talent show.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Johnny asks me as we pull into the driveway. “You haven’t said anything since we left the park.”

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “Yeah, right,” he says. He leans in and whispers, “I saw you kissing that chick from the church show. Nice work. No wonder you’re tongue-tied.”

  I look at him, and for a second I consider telling him what’s happened, but then Dad parks and everyone piles out of the bus and starts to unload gear.

  When everything’s been put away, Dad locks the garage and we head into the kitchen to grab something to eat. Kathy and Gran drove home ahead of us, and they’re pulling pizzas out of the oven and making a Caesar salad.

  I’m starving and the pizza is delicious, and I’m happy to have something to focus on while around me my family laughs and talks. The more happy they sound, the less I can stand to listen to them, and I eventually manage to zone out completely. Then I hea
r my name being called from across the table, and I look up from my plate to see everyone staring at me.

  “Earth to Neil!” says Kathy, laughing. “I just said your name about a dozen times!”

  “Sorry,” I say. “What is it?”

  “I was just asking if you think we’ll meet him.”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “Vince Beach!” says Molly. “Do you think he’ll let us hang out in his dressing room?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t care about Vince Beach. He sucks.”

  “Jeez,” says Shamus. “What crawled up your butt?”

  I push back from the table and stand up, almost knocking my chair over in the process. Everyone looks startled. I’m so frustrated that I want to cry, but I don’t know how to explain it to them.

  “I hate country music!” I yell. “You all know I hate it, so why do you expect me to be excited about this stupid concert? I—I’m not coming to the show in Halifax. I can’t do it!” I can’t stand the way they’re all looking at me, so I stare down at the table, clenching my jaw.

  “Neil,” says my mother, after a long moment. “What do you mean you can’t do it? Of course you’re coming with us.”

  “I’m not,” I say, forcing myself to look at her. “I’m staying here and I’m playing in the talent show on Thursday.”

  “What?” says my father. “What talent show? What is going on?”

  “It was supposed to be a surprise,” I say. “Or a secret, I guess. Bert and I started a band with this girl that we know, Sandy. We’ve been practicing for weeks, and we’re already signed up.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” says Dad. “But we’re signed up for Vince Beach too.”

  “No,” I say. “You’re signed up for Vince Beach. I didn’t sign up for anything. If you’d told me from the beginning that it was on Thursday, this never would have happened.” I know that’s not fair, that it’s my own fault for not keeping up to date with the schedule, but I can’t help saying it.

  Mom and Dad exchange a long look across the table, and then Dad turns to me.