CHAPTER 26
A few hours later, Mr. McCoy arrived with his truck and picked up Bo and Jimmy and the P.A. system and drums. Mrs. McCoy drove everyone else.
"I must say, you all look very professional tonight," Mrs. McCoy said.
The band had decided to wear matching black and white, and Bo and Jimmy both had their hair neatly combed, which was unusual.
"Are you going to stick around for the action?" Bo asked. "They always need chaperones."
"No, honey, thank you," she said. "We're going out to dinner and hopefully catch a movie, and we'll see you afterwards. You all have fun!"
By 6:30, The Z Street Band was pretty much set. They were plugged in on the gym stage, the drums were adjusted, they'd gotten the microphones and speakers positioned, and Adler had put them through several sound checks.
They were glad they brought Bo's sound system, which was clearer and more powerful than the school's. Now all there was to do was wait.
Pablo showed up at 7:15 with his DJ gear.
"Thanks for trading off with us tonight," Bo said.
"Hey, dude, no problem," Pablo said. "I'm getting paid either way."
What they were about to discover, none of them--not even Adler--could have imagined.
At ten to eight, Jimmy went into the lobby to get a drink of water, and, to his absolute alarm, only six people were in line for the dance. Normally, this close to when the doors opened, the line would stretch outside the gym entrance and snake all the way back to the picnic tables.
People always lined up way before eight, especially with Gardner Garrison working the ticket booth. You didn't want to miss half the dance standing in line.
Garrison saw Jimmy, knew what he was thinking, and shrugged his shoulders.
This is worse--more embarrassing--than being locked in that bathroom, Jimmy thought.
All he could say to Bo when he got back on stage was: "No one's here."
When it sunk in, they all went outside and looked for themselves. There were three more people in line--that was it. Rachel Wainwright was one of them. The parking lot was dead.
"It is the correct night, the correct time, all that, right?" Jenny said, though she knew the answer.
"I just...can't...understand it," Rachel said.
"You've got 65 or 70 in a grade, so that's 200 kids in the school," Adler said. "A normal dance, if half the school shows up--let's say even only 40%--that's still 80 kids."
"So many people seemed fired up for us to play, after the assembly," Mackie said, shaking his head.
"Unless they were just pretending to be," Melissa said. "It sure didn't feel like that though."
"Some kind of huge last-minute party going on somewhere, we don't know about?" said Jimmy.
"No," Rachel said. "There isn't."
"Anyone break the school rule tonight and bring their phone?" said Adler. "Or we could borrow Pablo's, text someone, see what's up."
"No," Bo said, his voice not much louder than a whisper. "They decided not to come, it's as simple as that. Whatever might be the reason, it doesn't matter now."
The doors opened and the kids in line drifted in, looking cautious, like they might be in the wrong place.
The band got back on stage and waited. By 8:15, two more people were on the dance floor--Lefroni and Myers--bringing the grand total of students attending the Huckabee Spring Dance to eleven. At least Lefroni and Myers had the good sense to not ask the band members what was wrong.
"All the gigs I've done," Pablo the DJ said to Bo and Jimmy, as he began packing up his gear, "this is a first. We got us a serious shortage of live bodies. Nothing I can do to shake things up tonight, so I'm leaving it in your hands."
Mr. Gustaf and Mrs. Matters, who were in charge of the dance, came over and said a few words to the band--how this was most unfortunate, and so on. But there was really nothing you could say. Soon, the two teachers retreated to the little office behind the snack bar.
"We have to play something," Jenny said when it got to be 8:30. "It's not fair to the few of them that did make it."
So The Z Street Band started playing.
They went right down the set list: "Brown-Eyed Girl"; "Sweet Home Alabama"; "Down on the Corner"; "Hound Dog"; "Summer in the City"; "Hello, I Love You", "Solitary Man", "Surfin' USA". They may not have been performing with a lot of emotion, but they were on key and on beat.
Lefroni and Myers were trading off dancing with Rachel Wainwright, The other eight kids seemed to be moving around too.
"Look at everybody," Jimmy said. "We can't be that bad, can we?"
"No," Bo said. "We're good. In fact you guys are sounding awesome. It's a shame..."
At 9:30, after "All Right Now", the band took a break. Bo and Jimmy went outside, and
Lefroni and Myers were standing on the lawn. They noticed the south parking lot was now full of cars.
"What the heck!" Jimmy said.
"It's a Peabody meeting," Myers said. "They're planning out an overnight trip to a Shakespeare festival."
"That figures," said Lefroni.
Peabody was a specialized charter school that was on the same campus as Huckabee. There was almost no interaction between the Peabody kids and the Huckabee kids.
As a rule, the Huckabee kids resented Peabody because it provided special perks, like bottled water--while they had to drink the rusty tasting stuff out of the fountain--plus all kinds of field trips and guest experts who came in to class. The parents were very involved in running the school.
"I don't know any of those kids, so I shouldn't say anything," Jimmy said. "But one thing that kills me is when I see a mom or dad walking one of them to class."
"I know it," said Myers. "How can you let your parent even get out of the car?"
"Think they like school dances?" Bo said.
"Oh, no," said Jimmy "Even we don't go that low."
"We got 25 minutes left," Bo said, "to try and salvage the night."
"Oh boy," Jimmy said.
Bo charged across the lawn and into the Peabody meeting like a military commander on a mission.
It was a large room, a science lab, and there were about 40 kids seated in the middle, with the parents standing around the perimeter. Bo marched to the front, waved his hand to silence whoever was talking, and cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry to have to interrupt you," he said, "but there's a Huckabee dance next door in the gym. My band is playing. For some mixed-up reason, almost nobody came tonight. We only have 25 minutes left. Is it possible you could all come over there right now? For just the last 25 minutes?"
There was stirring in the room but nothing happened. Bo could see Jimmy back near the door.
"It would mean a lot--a LOT-- to my five friends who have worked really hard for this," Bo said. "And to me."
A woman spoke up.
"The young man certainly makes a compelling case. Those of you wishing to attend this dance, hurry over there right now."
To Bo and Jimmy's absolute amazement, almost every kid in the room left for the gym.
"Gee, Peabody?" said Mackie, as the charter school kids filed in.
"I recognize that kid with the pony tail," Adler said. "I beat him in a tournament."
"Okay, listen," Bo said, strapping on his guitar. "They're supporting us. We've all made fun of them probably--I know I have. Forget all that. Let's give this our best shot."
The band played straight through the remainder of the set list: "Rock Around the Clock", "The Joker" "Centerfield" and "Surf City", which featured high harmonies that Jenny and Melissa sang beautifully.
The Peabody kids, Bo realized, had been dancing and having fun just like regular Huckabee kids, and now they were applauding. It was five to ten.
"Thank you very much," Bo said. "You've been a great audience. We are...The Z Street Band, and before we go tonight we're going to play one more. This song comes from one of the pioneers of rock and roll music, Chuck Berry, and it's called Johnnie B. Goode."
The guitar intro to Johnnie B. Goode was Bo's favorite piece of music that the band played. He laid it down solo, matching Chuck Berry note for note, and then the band came in and the vocals began.
When the song ended, everyone stood and clapped, and soon the gym emptied out.
"What can you say," Bo said.
"I don't know what to think anymore," Jimmy said.
"For what it's worth," Myers pitched in, "you dudes were A-List!"
"I enjoyed that so much!" Rachel Wainwright said. "All I can say is, people are idiots--they have no idea what they were missing."
"Thanks you guys," said Jenny.
"I hear you've been working on an original song," Lefroni said, "and you got 'Capitola' from me."
"That's true," Bo said. "In fact, it was going to have its debut tonight, except no one showed up. It's now the only song ever written that's been retired before anyone heard it."
"Whoa, dog!" said Jimmy.
"Don't talk like that!" said Mackie.
"You ever listen to that radio show late at night, 'Coast to Coast'?" Bo asked. "People come on there and tell you that some things are already set a certain way, before they happen. There's reasons for it."
"I think they call that 'paranormal'," Mackie said. "It can't be explained by regular science."
"Maybe that's it. All I know is, this music thing we keep trying--it's way out there somewhere. It's not normal."
"Okay whatever, B," Jimmy said. "But don't be retiring "Dreaming of a Simple Tune" before we've even played it!"
"Fine, you want it?" Bo said. "Take it. It's yours."
