Baby Blue Eyes

Chapter Three

‘Oh yeah, it so would, babe! You could so get back at Levi if that happened!’

‘I’m not trying to get back at Levi!’ I protest. ‘That person means absolutely nothing to me, and I don’t even want to talk about him.’

Tasha raises an eyebrow. ‘If you say so.’

*

When I get out of Art, saying goodbye to Tasha, I dawdle along to my locker, lugging my huge art folder along. When I was with Levi, he always used to laugh at my struggles and gallantly take it from me.

I sigh. All this band talk has inevitably lead my thoughts back to Levi far more often than usual. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

I reach my locker, opening it quickly with the key, and then stuffing the folder inside. As I lock it back up again, I hear an all too familiar voice.

‘Hey, babe,’ Levi says, and as I turn, I see him bend to kiss Imogen behind me. Imogen. Imogen bloody Cooper, who is, annoyingly, very good looking. Tall, with long legs so she’s almost his height and with a great deal of curves to her name, she‘s pretty much perfectly matched with Levi looks wise. She giggles as he pulls away, whispering something in her ear as he does so.

I think Imogen giggles at most things Levi says, something I rarely did. Not that we didn’t laugh together- oh no, quite the opposite. But my laugh is about an octave lower, and nowhere near as dainty as Imogen bloody Cooper’s is. In fact, she’s the complete opposite of me. I’m not that tall, my legs aren’t particularly long, and I’m definitely not that curvy. And if Levi made a joke, I would be more likely to roll my eyes at him.

She’s everything that I’m not, which I guess is why he’s dating her. I’ve probably put him off every quality that I have, unfortunately for all those girls similar to me who would probably love to date him.

I start to head off, but unfortunately, Levi and Imogen are walking in front, taking up so much room in the narrow corridor that I‘d have to literally shove one of them over to get past. I sigh at my bad luck. Typical.

Levi seems to be in an excellent mood, as witty as he usually is, and Imogen giggles at everything he says. Even the things which aren’t meant to be funny. She’s clearly just swelling his ego by doing that.

Eventually, the giggling gets so annoying that I get fed up of dawdling along at snail pace, and so I quickly slide past Imogen, accidentally knocking her into Levi as I do so.

‘Sorry!’ I say, as I try to make my escape.

‘Hey!’ Levi says, crossly. ‘You just bashed into-’ I haven’t turned round, but he must have recognised me, because he stops.

I turn around, unable to help myself. ‘Sorry,’ I say, kind of falsely, a bit disconcerted by Levi‘s blue eyes, ‘but some of us have places to be, and you’re taking up the whole corridor.’

‘Are you saying I’m fat?!’ Imogen asks, sounding a bit timid, but outraged all the same.

I roll my eyes, and, turning on my heel, stride off.

Oh, why do I do it? I wish I could have just not bothered, because now Levi probably thinks that I’m jealous, and took the opportunity to shove Imogen bloody Cooper as revenge. And I don’t want Levi thinking I’m jealous.

Which he now probably does. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

*

Feeling little butterflies in my stomach, I head up to the music block at lunchtime, wondering if there will be anyone there at all.

Jamie, Eddie and Matt are already there, and surrounding them are about fifteen boys, all with guitars strapped to their backs. Except one, who seems to be asking if he can borrow someone’s guitar.

Ranging from very small to very tall, we seem to have a good variety of guitarists here, and I smile enthusiastically at Matt as he notices me.

‘All these people!’ I say, and Matt nods.

‘There are quite a lot. But I don’t know-’

‘Wait and see, Mr Pessimistic!’ I interrupt him, and begin searching for a practice room which we can hold the auditions in.

A few minutes later, we’re settled into our practice room and the first boy comes in, looking a bit nervous.

‘Hello,’ Jamie says, friendlily. ‘What’s your name?’

‘James,’ he says, clutching his guitar.

‘What are you going to play for us?’ I ask, and he gulps.

‘Stairway to heaven,’ he replies, and I silently sigh. Pretty much every young boy in the school who has guitar lessons seems to love that song. I never heard Levi play it, ever, probably because he taught himself.

I think that’s why Levi’s so good. He taught himself from the internet and from old books that his dad tried to teach himself from, and so his talent is fresher, rawer, and as he was determined to learn, he worked unbelievably hard and was the best guitarist in the school.

I haven’t heard him play since our last band practice, the fateful one where everything when horribly wrong, but knowing Levi and his love of guitars, he won’t have let his skills slip. But enough about Levi. He’s not important.

So James starts to play. He’s good, there’s no denying it, but he probably only has about three different songs that he can play, like all the other boys his age who’ve paid for guitar lessons.

‘And how’s your voice?’ Matt asks him, when he’s finished. James looks scared, but gives us a quick demonstration. Mm.

As he leaves, Matt turns to me with a satisfied look. ‘See?’

‘What?!’ I say, feeling disappointed but also determined not to show it. ‘He’s only the first.’

‘Yes, but what if he’s the best?’

‘What if he’s the worst?’ I counter.

It turns out that James is by no means the worst. There are a great deal who come in who haven’t read the poster correctly and don’t realise that they’d have to sing too. The one person with an amazing voice can only play chords on the guitar, disappointingly, and the one person who plays us his own composition on the guitar, wows us all … until he opens his mouth and starts to sing sounding somewhat like a strangled cat.

Matt’s satisfied look when he realises that they were all nowhere near the standard Levi was is very irritating.

‘I could try and learn lead guitar parts?’ I suggest, tentatively.

‘That’ll take too long,’ Matt tells me. ‘And who will sing back up vocals?’

I look at Jamie and Eddie, hopefully.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. ‘I don’t think I’m coordinated enough to sing as well as drum, babe, sorry.’

Jamie also shakes his head. ‘When I sing, Zoey, mirrors actually start cracking, okay? So it’s probably best if I keep my mouth firmly closed.’

‘And you, Matt?’ I ask him.

He rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t make me laugh. Singing really isn’t my thing, Zo.’

I shrug. ‘What’re we going to do then?’ I ask, feeling hopeless.

‘There’s only one thing,’ Matt says, looking rather pleased with himself. ‘Levi.’