liked to watch him sitting with his acoustic guitar, his whole focus on the instrument. He played well, not brilliantly, as Arizona’s dad had once pointed out to me. Logan’s technique was like the rest of him – solid and without too much flair, Frank Taylor had said. The guy was an expert musician so he should know. Anyway, I thought Logan did great and I clapped along with everyone else.
At the end of his piece Miss Jones moved in with her comments and Christian handed me the music for the backing vocals on ‘Invisible’. ‘Summer probably played you this track a thousand times,’ he reminded me. ‘You’ll be singing with Jordan. Are you cool with that?’
‘Totally.’ The faint flavour of sympathy in Christian’s voice made me move away, almost bumping right intoParker Simons, who was carrying a heavy spotlight stand and a coil of thick cable. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ I asked Christian over my shoulder.
Parker got out of my way and I went to join Hannah, who was sitting halfway up the tiered auditorium with her laptop. ‘Let’s find a corner to rehearse,’ I suggested.
‘Sit down. Let me finish here.’
Glancing across, I saw that she was working on improving an ad for the concert to put on the angelvoice website. Now that I thought about it, I recalled that Hannah had put herself in charge of the preconcert marketing.
‘How many tickets have we sold?’ I asked.
‘Hundreds already. I was talking to Miss Jones about extending the gig from the one we’ve planned for the Saturday morning to a second one in the afternoon.’
‘Cool.’ I sat with my feet up on the seat in front, taking in the buzz of the theatre. ‘Summer would love this,’ I murmured. The musicians, the techie guys like Parker and Ezra, the gathering together of all this talent.
‘Take a look at this.’ Hannah tilted her screen towards me and let me read some recent comments on Summer’s website.
Just bought my Summer tribute ticket – can’t wait!
Listening to Summer’s ‘Red Sky’ track – so - o- o sad!
I downloaded ‘Invisible’ and listened to it all nite long. Summer Madison rocks!
Mostly they were comments from girl fans, but I noticed one from a guy called JakB. Summer lives on! it said. Her music is bigger than Death! Instead of entering his own picture alongside his name, he’d used an icon of a fluorescent-green death’s head. I pursed my lips and pointed it out to Hannah.
‘Yeah, that’s a little weird,’ she agreed.
I scrolled down and found another JakB entry. I know what it’s like to be invisible, he said. Like the words of Summer’s song – you’re into a girl but she doesn’t notice you. It sucks. Then he typed out the chorus: ‘Every day / You look my way / But I’m not there / I’m invisible …’
As it happened, this linked in with Christian standing onstage rehearsing the same section of the song. Hannah grabbed back her laptop and Jordan came looking for me. ‘Darina, we’re on!’ she said, pulling me down the steps on to the stage.
I stayed in school for three whole days, mainly for the concert rehearsals but also to balance the secret work I was doing for the Beautiful Dead.
Darina, you’re fixated, I told myself after a three-hour session early Wednesday evening in which I updated myreading of Summer’s website reviews – more, much more from JakB, I noticed – and then searched the net for more Columbine-style killings that fitted the Ellerton and Venice, Florida models.
I found a depressing number of young guys with unhealthy loner habits and an even weirder interest in firearms – random shootings in malls, schools and colleges were nationwide and all too frequent. Usually though, the gunman martyred himself in the crossfire from a hail of bullets, which cut back big time on possible live suspects for the Summer homicide. I found only one other in the past two years where enough elements were similar – a shooting at yet another mall in New
At the end of his piece Miss Jones moved in with her comments and Christian handed me the music for the backing vocals on ‘Invisible’. ‘Summer probably played you this track a thousand times,’ he reminded me. ‘You’ll be singing with Jordan. Are you cool with that?’
‘Totally.’ The faint flavour of sympathy in Christian’s voice made me move away, almost bumping right intoParker Simons, who was carrying a heavy spotlight stand and a coil of thick cable. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ I asked Christian over my shoulder.
Parker got out of my way and I went to join Hannah, who was sitting halfway up the tiered auditorium with her laptop. ‘Let’s find a corner to rehearse,’ I suggested.
‘Sit down. Let me finish here.’
Glancing across, I saw that she was working on improving an ad for the concert to put on the angelvoice website. Now that I thought about it, I recalled that Hannah had put herself in charge of the preconcert marketing.
‘How many tickets have we sold?’ I asked.
‘Hundreds already. I was talking to Miss Jones about extending the gig from the one we’ve planned for the Saturday morning to a second one in the afternoon.’
‘Cool.’ I sat with my feet up on the seat in front, taking in the buzz of the theatre. ‘Summer would love this,’ I murmured. The musicians, the techie guys like Parker and Ezra, the gathering together of all this talent.
‘Take a look at this.’ Hannah tilted her screen towards me and let me read some recent comments on Summer’s website.
Just bought my Summer tribute ticket – can’t wait!
Listening to Summer’s ‘Red Sky’ track – so - o- o sad!
I downloaded ‘Invisible’ and listened to it all nite long. Summer Madison rocks!
Mostly they were comments from girl fans, but I noticed one from a guy called JakB. Summer lives on! it said. Her music is bigger than Death! Instead of entering his own picture alongside his name, he’d used an icon of a fluorescent-green death’s head. I pursed my lips and pointed it out to Hannah.
‘Yeah, that’s a little weird,’ she agreed.
I scrolled down and found another JakB entry. I know what it’s like to be invisible, he said. Like the words of Summer’s song – you’re into a girl but she doesn’t notice you. It sucks. Then he typed out the chorus: ‘Every day / You look my way / But I’m not there / I’m invisible …’
As it happened, this linked in with Christian standing onstage rehearsing the same section of the song. Hannah grabbed back her laptop and Jordan came looking for me. ‘Darina, we’re on!’ she said, pulling me down the steps on to the stage.
I stayed in school for three whole days, mainly for the concert rehearsals but also to balance the secret work I was doing for the Beautiful Dead.
Darina, you’re fixated, I told myself after a three-hour session early Wednesday evening in which I updated myreading of Summer’s website reviews – more, much more from JakB, I noticed – and then searched the net for more Columbine-style killings that fitted the Ellerton and Venice, Florida models.
I found a depressing number of young guys with unhealthy loner habits and an even weirder interest in firearms – random shootings in malls, schools and colleges were nationwide and all too frequent. Usually though, the gunman martyred himself in the crossfire from a hail of bullets, which cut back big time on possible live suspects for the Summer homicide. I found only one other in the past two years where enough elements were similar – a shooting at yet another mall in New
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