One Summer

57

At first the beat was mellow. Still, the crowd whooped and clapped. Sensing the rising energy, Mikki gave Liam the cue they’d practiced. She cranked her amp and stomped on her wah-wah pedal, and her hand started flying across the face of the Fender guitar. They dove right into a classic Queen roof blaster, with Liam moving so fast he appeared to be two people, alternating between drums and keyboard. The crowd was on its feet singing the lyrics.

Mikki knew that once you had the crowd right where you wanted them, and they thought you’d already given everything that was in your tank, you did something special.

You gave them more.

She unplugged her amp and pulled off her guitar. She actually pitched it across the stage. At the same moment, Liam tossed his stick in the other direction. She snagged the sticks, he caught the Fender, and they exchanged positions. Liam plugged in the amp and became the guitarist, his long fingers expertly traversing the Fender. Mikki perched on the stool and hammered away at the full array of the drum set.

The finale was a dual one, with a solo each. Mikki rocked the house with a six-minute broadside and finished up with a mighty crescendo, her hands moving so fast there appeared to be six pairs of them. And when the audience didn’t have any breath left and their palms were raw from clapping, Liam performed a guitar solo that would have made Jimmy Page and Santana proud. He held the last chord for a full minute, the amp-powered beat shaking the Channing Play House like cannon fire.

And then there was silence. But only for a few seconds as the crowd caught its collective breath, and then the applause and screams and cheers came in waves. Mikki held hands with Liam and took bow after bow. They finally had to motion for the people to sit down and stop applauding.

As they went backstage, the other performers rushed up to congratulate them.

“You rock,” said the fiftyish baritone in the barbershop quartet. “You took me back to my Three Dog Night days.”

Breathless and wearing wide grins, Liam and Mikki moved off to the side. Tiffany passed by them, not saying a word. She loosened her robe and let it fall off. The outfit underneath did not leave much, if anything, to the imagination. She turned to them and, using her fingers, formed an L on her forehead.

Mikki pointed to the stage. “You’re not a loser yet. That comes later, sweetie.”

Other than stumbling twice and nearly dropping her baton, Tiffany did okay. The applause was polite except for the section led by her mother, which lasted so long that finally some people turned in their seats to see who was still applauding what had been a fairly mediocre performance.

A few minutes later, all the contestants were called to the stage in a single group.

Mikki found her dad in the crowd and gave a thumbs-up. Jack gave her two thumbs-up back while Sammy extended a crisp salute. Cory did an elaborate bow to his sister’s dominance on the stage, and Jackie copied him.

Jenna caught Liam’s eye and blew him a kiss.

The head judge stood and cleared her throat. “We have reached our decisions. But first I would like to thank all the contestants for their fine performances.”

This statement was followed by polite applause.

“Now, in third place, Judy Ringer for her sterling dance performance of The Nutcracker.”

Judy, a skinny fourteen-year-old, ran out to get her trophy and a bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you, Judy. Now, in second place, we have Dickie Dean and his Barbershop Four.”

The man who had lauded Mikki and Liam’s performance hustled out and received the award for his group as the crowd clapped.

“And now for the first-place champion.”

The crowd held its collective breath.

The judge cleared her throat one more time. “For the fourth year in a row, Tiffany Murdoch and her fabulous baton routine.”

Tiffany stepped forward, all smiles, and whisked over to get her trophy, hundred-dollar check, and flowers, while her mother beamed. Trophy and flowers in hand, Tiffany strode to the microphone. “I’m truly overwhelmed with gratitude. Four years in a row. Who would have thought it possible? Now I’d like to thank the judges and—”

“That’s a load of crap,” bellowed a voice.

All heads turned, including Jack’s and Jenna’s, to see Cory standing up on his seat and pointing an accusing finger at the head judge.

“This sucks!” roared Cory.

“This sucks!” repeated Jackie, who was standing on his chair and pointing his finger too.

“Cor,” snapped Jack. “Jackie, get down and be quiet.”

But Jenna put a hand on his arm. “No. You know what? They’re right.” She stood and yelled, “This stinks.”

Jack shrugged, stood, and called out, “Are you telling me that Mikki and Liam didn’t even make the top three? You people are nuts.”

The head judge and Chelsea Murdoch scowled back at them.

Another chorus came from farther back in the theater.

Mikki craned her neck to see. It was Blake and some of the other people from Sweat Town, including Fran, the woman who’d worked as a caterer at Tiffany’s party.

“Recount,” demanded Blake. “Recount.”

Mikki grinned at him.

“Recount! Recount!” chanted the crowd.

Tiffany stood in the center of the stage trying to pretend she was oblivious to all of the criticism. She held her trophy and posed for pictures for a photographer from the local paper.

Then the crowd started chanting, “Encore! Encore!”

Mikki looked at Liam. He said, “What the heck, let’s give ’em the Purple.”

She nodded, picked up her guitar, cranked her amp, poised her foot on top of her wah-wah pedal, and struck a chord so powerfully amplified that Tiffany screamed and almost fell off the stage. Mikki looked over at Liam and nodded. A moment later the heart-pumping sound of “Smoke on the Water” by Deep Purple roared across the theater.

Minutes later, as the last note of the song died away, Liam and Mikki, their arms around each other, took a bow together. This was a trigger for the ecstatic, cheering crowd to rush the stage. Tiffany had to run to get out of the way of the stampede. The news photographer and reporter joined the crowd, leaving the baton twirler all alone. Tiffany stormed off the stage and threw her trophy in the trash, while her mother followed her out of the theater, trying to soothe her furious daughter.

Later, on the drive home, Mikki and Liam sat in the back of the VW bus. The two teens glowed both with the sweat of their musical exertions and also with sheer excitement.

Liam said, “This is like the greatest day of my life. I mean I’ve never felt this good about losing before.”

Jack looked in the rearview mirror at his daughter. “So what happened to alternative edgy beats with a nontraditional mix of instrumentals?”

She grinned. “Wow — you were listening. I’m impressed. Anyway, sometimes you just can’t beat good old rock and roll, Dad.”

“The best part,” said Cory, “was watching Tiffany storming off.”

Jenna looked in the back of the van and tapped Jack on the arm, motioning with her eyes. He gazed into the rearview mirror to see Liam and Mikki sneak a kiss.

She whispered, “I think, for them, that’s the best part.”