Stacy's Song Read Online Free PDF Page B

Randy bought it completely like it was pizza with extra cheese.
    â€œIt’s the weightlifting. Coach has us press every other day. Secret of a winning team,” he explained with a wink.
    I left them to continue their gooey conversation and went back to the stage. It was a fact that I had never seen Karen so happy and animated. She obviously enjoyed Randy’s company. So why was I feeling this way, as if I had lost something? Was I jealous? Maybe, but if so, I knew it was wrong. I sighed and got ready to perform again. My best friend met a guy she could like. That happened to be a good thing.
    Karen came home with me, Jimmy driving us back to my house. She was sleepin g over. As we got ready for bed all Karen could talk about was Randy Farrell. She bubbled with joy.
    â€œHe said he’s going to call me. Isn’t that awesome? I can hardly wait!” She hugged the pillow close to her. “Of course, I do wish it had been Greg Lawson. I mean, he is older and cuter, more popular too, but Randy’s nice, don’t you think? And doesn’t he have a great sense of humor?” Karen didn’t wait for a reply; she continued to rhapsodize. “This is the best night of my life ever.” Karen was too excited to sleep so we talked into the early hours of the morning.
    The next day I woke up w ith a bad sore throat. At first I thought I must have strained my vocal cords from too muc h singing. But by the afternoon my inability to swallow properly was accompanied with a headache. I dragged myse lf through the day. At the pool I stayed out of the water, studying in the shade. I was prone to strep infections and ha d to be careful.
    I didn’t feel like going to band practice that evening, but I went anyway. The heat of the day was down and a spectacular blood-sun was setting in the sky as I climbed the porch steps to the Norris house.
    We had a set routine which involved getting down to practice without a lot of chitchat . Michael sat at the piano working on a new piece. Liz sat beside him writing down on paper the notes he played. They stopped and got ready for our practice.
    Liz handed me a copy of the new stuff. The pain in my head was now centered on the sockets of my eyes. I found it difficult to concentrate and made several mistakes playi ng the new work. The first time Michael only moved hi s head in my direction frowning, the second time he glowered and the third he signaled us to stop with an irate wave of his hand.
    â€œWhat’s the matter ? Too much social life?”
    His mocking tone infuriated me. I was in no mood to put up with his lousy attitude. “I made a mistake, all right? Big deal.”
    â€œAs a matter of fact, it is. We’re trying to put together a profess ional sound. If you’re slumming you don’t belong with us.”
    â€œI’m not feeling well, okay?” I tried not to whine. I hate people who whine and sure didn’t want to join their ranks. “Maybe I made a mistake coming tonight.”
    â€œMaybe you did at that,” Michael agreed without the slightest shred of sympathy or compassion. “Let’s continue—if you can pay attention.”
    Now I was just plain angry. “I read somewhere that Lincoln freed the slaves.”
    He was on his feet looking ominous. “So I’m a slave-driver, is that it? Well, let me tell you something. Liz and Jimmy both have full-time jobs for the summer, but I don’t hear any complaints or excuses from them. Tough lounging around a pool all day, isn’t it?”
    I felt my cheeks flame like cherries jubilee. “Sorry if that makes you sore.” I ran out of the room and toward the front door.
    Liz came after me. “Wait, Stacy!”
    I didn’t listen but I kept on walking, if only so that no one would see the tears welling up in my eyes. I was still smarting from the sting of Michael’s remarks and feeling pretty sorry for myself when Liz caught my arm on