The school was abuzz anew with this recent development, the three us at the lunch table all talking together, excited about something. The gossip shifted from a romance between me and Madeline to a possible threesome hook-up with Kai, but we shrugged that off and told people don’t be ridiculous. Kai spent some of his lunches with his group of LGBTQ friends and told them the same story we’d put out, how we were just sharpening our chops, working on techniques for general musical improvement. Social media memes popped up now and then, like one with Teena of the now defunct Teddy Bears giving two fingers, Satan’s horns, at a picture of Madeline, with the word “Traitor!” underneath.
At lunch we might be discussing any number of things, like why couldn’t the cafeteria kitchen make crispy French Fries, (a long running discussion in the whole school overall – Cassy Middleton, when she was running for class president, made crispy fries one of her platform promises, and it got the biggest applause in her speeches) was ketchup a vegetable, like an American president once said, honest – and most importantly, who was going to be number four. One thing we all started noticing was, the three of us, now that Kai was part of it, could talk about almost anything and have a good time doing it, making jokes and goofing around, also be serious in-between. That kind of thing goes a long way with a band. I was in a band when I was twelve with my good friend Joey Larkin, but when we got together to play music, we shut up like we were a badly mismatched boy and girl on a first date. It was weird and awkward, we’d talk about a band we liked and doing a song and then we’d say, “Yeah, that’s a good idea,” and the conversation would stop. I did have a lot more musical knowledge than Joey, but he was a pretty good guitarist. We played The Pixies “Monkey’s Gone to Heaven” and both thought it was hilarious when it would come to the guitar solo and I’d say, “Play it, Joe,” just like it says on the actual song. That band lasted about a month.
So, us being comfortable now, talking and bouncing ideas around, was a very good thing. I suppose when you go through something as life changing as traveling to the rehearsal room and you start playing in shapes and colors, it bonds you together quick. Madeline and I even stopped taking jabs at each other, she actually started laughing at some of my jokes and agreed with my suggestions about the music we were considering. Some of it. For the fourth person, we agree that whoever it was, no matter how good they might be musically, over and above that was how good they’d fit with us, just talking and joking together. We agreed we have to have no division, a single mind.
“One thing,” I said one lunch, “one missing thing, right now, is a voice. We don’t really have a singer. I can sing, but…”
“There’s singing and then there’s singing, Joshua,” Madeine said, rather politely, though. Absent of sarcasm.
“From when I’ve heard you sing, you’d definitely be in the first category,” Kai added.
“Very gracefully put, Kai.”
“Thank you, Maddie,” he said. One thing, I have to admit, that bothered me was, within a couple of days Kai is calling her Maddie and she’s ok with it. So I figured, what the hell, tried it once and she looks at me like I’d spilled a glass of red wine on her prom dress.
“I know and accept that about myself,” I said, “I can sing backgrounds, harmonies, but we need a real voice. Not just a singer. A voice.”
“Explain,” Madeline said.
“Well, if you hear Eddie Vedder, you know who it is right away. Or like, David Bowie. Or Adele. Joe Cocker. The voice doesn’t have to be the greatest, but it has to be original. Distinct. If it’s also got good range, high notes, then that’s ideal. But an original voice first.”
“Male or female,” Kai asked.
“I don’t know, what’s everybody think?”
“Let’s face it, women’s voices are more beautiful,” Madeline said.
“Apples and oranges.”
“I’m with Josh,” Kai said. They’re different is all. Like a tenor or soprano sax.”
“Nobody can sing like Mick Jagger,” I said, “nobody can put those songs across like him. That’s more what I’m concerned about. Male, female, I think that’s secondary.”
“A singing drummer, though,” Madeline said.
“Percussionist. We’ll be switching it up. I can play drums, too.”
“Kai shrugged. “None of the orchestra vocalists play any instruments.”
Madeline grinned. “I know someone. But we’ll be officially driving a stake into the demonic heart of The Teddy Bears.”
“Juli?” I said. “You’re kidding. I heard her sing with you guys. Or rather shriek. Howl. I know she’s a good percussionist in the orchestra, and drummer. Her timing is dead on.”
“Can she play jazz?”
“Absolutely,” Madeline said. “She plays everything.”
“But a vocalist? Seriously?”
“You just heard her sing that punk stuff. That’s how it’s supposed to sound. Her real voice is like a combination Amy Winehouse and Janis Joplin. She can hit the highest notes, sound sweet, belt it out, sing the blues, whatever.”
“Seriously…?”
She nodded.
“Teena’s gonna kill us. They’ve been playing together since they were like, thirteen,” Kai said.
“Well, all’s fair in love, war and music, I said. “If she’s as good as you say, she’s being shortchanged to her detriment, in The Teddy Bears. We’re liberating her, it’s an act of compassion on our part, we can’t leave her stuck there..”
“…on her own little highway to hell,” Kai added.
Madeline laughed. “Definitely not. We’d be terrible people for doing that. I couldn’t live with myself. I feel much better now. My conscience is squeaky clean.”
“Ok,” I said. “It’s settled. We’re as clear as an azure sky.”
Madeline nodded. “This just might work.”