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Authors: Caitlyn Duffy
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workout, then off to sound check,
and ate lunch with the band and roadies. I would see him backstage
before the show would start, but would barely even get to talk to
him, as usually he would be greeting fans who had won contests from
local radio stations, or posing for pictures with kids from charity
groups.
It's hard to be mad at your dad for spending
more time with kids who have terminal cancer or who need heart
transplants than he does with you. But by our last night in Florida
I was feeling a little left out, which I know is petty, but still.
I had never even officially agreed to come on this trip. My mind
began wandering toward my little house on North Laurel Avenue. Even
though the hotel was ritzy, I was missing the summer in Los Angeles
I had been planning on just a little.
Saturday afternoon I called Allison out of
homesickness. "Oh, hey," she said, sounding distracted. "I'm on my
way out the door to go meet Nicole."
"Nicole who?" I asked.
"Nicole Farley," Allison said, as if I should
have known better. "We're on our way to The Grove."
Nicole lived down the block from the Burch's
and was half a year older than us but had failed sixth grade and
had to redo the year. There had been many times when we were all in
public school together when Allison and I had dissed Nicole behind
her back for being ridiculously trendy; she always said hella even two summers after people had stopped saying hella , and we had snickered when we saw her trip over her
platform flip flops at The Arclight movie theater.
"Oh," I said.
"She took over your hours at Robek's,"
Allison explained. "She started on Thursday. And you know what?
She's not so bad. And she has her license and her dad just bought
her a new Miata."
I resisted the temptation to tell Allison to
have a hella good time. We said goodbye and I felt like I was going
to start crying. I hadn't even said one word about Brice Norris or
Florida and Allison hadn't bothered asking how my trip was going so
far. I had only been away from Los Angeles four days and already it
felt like my whole life there was being wiped away. I mean, I was
the one who had just lost my mom, and Allison never even asked how
I was feeling.
So much had happened to me since the
beginning of the summer that it was starting to seem as if Todd and
Allison Burch and trips to the Grove and sunny days in Los Angeles
existed in another universe.
Back in rock band universe, we all boarded
the bus bound for Atlanta. George strummed his acoustic guitar, I
worked at my summer reading list, and in general it was kind of fun
being together for a few hours while we traveled. Hours we spent on
the bus were the most I got to see of my dad, and he was typically
in an outgoing mood when we were all in a group. I got to know my
dad's body guards, heard a lot of stories from Dusty and Wade about
past tours, and best of all, was able to avoid making conversation
with Jill.
Our first afternoon in Atlanta, Jill informed
me that we were going shopping to buy me some new clothes. We left
Kelsey in the hotel with her nanny, a Brazilian woman named Cleo
who I had never met before that day, and a limousine took us to
downtown Buckhead.
Jill's former life as a professional stylist
came in handy as she tossed jeans and tops at me to try on.
"You've got long legs. You can wear tight
jeans. And detailed pockets on the rear will give your butt some
shape," she said, pushing me toward a dressing room. "Green looks
good on you with your eyes. And pink, with your complexion."
I have to say, as much as I really did not
desire any kind of a friendship or relationship with my father's
wife, the attention she showered on me that afternoon was a little
flattering. I made the mistake of checking out the price tag on one
of the pairs of jeans she had me try on and almost choked. My
mother would have killed me if I had ever asked for two hundred
dollars to buy a pair of pants. My mom had always teased me for
being fashion-handicapped but never
and ate lunch with the band and roadies. I would see him backstage
before the show would start, but would barely even get to talk to
him, as usually he would be greeting fans who had won contests from
local radio stations, or posing for pictures with kids from charity
groups.
It's hard to be mad at your dad for spending
more time with kids who have terminal cancer or who need heart
transplants than he does with you. But by our last night in Florida
I was feeling a little left out, which I know is petty, but still.
I had never even officially agreed to come on this trip. My mind
began wandering toward my little house on North Laurel Avenue. Even
though the hotel was ritzy, I was missing the summer in Los Angeles
I had been planning on just a little.
Saturday afternoon I called Allison out of
homesickness. "Oh, hey," she said, sounding distracted. "I'm on my
way out the door to go meet Nicole."
"Nicole who?" I asked.
"Nicole Farley," Allison said, as if I should
have known better. "We're on our way to The Grove."
Nicole lived down the block from the Burch's
and was half a year older than us but had failed sixth grade and
had to redo the year. There had been many times when we were all in
public school together when Allison and I had dissed Nicole behind
her back for being ridiculously trendy; she always said hella even two summers after people had stopped saying hella , and we had snickered when we saw her trip over her
platform flip flops at The Arclight movie theater.
"Oh," I said.
"She took over your hours at Robek's,"
Allison explained. "She started on Thursday. And you know what?
She's not so bad. And she has her license and her dad just bought
her a new Miata."
I resisted the temptation to tell Allison to
have a hella good time. We said goodbye and I felt like I was going
to start crying. I hadn't even said one word about Brice Norris or
Florida and Allison hadn't bothered asking how my trip was going so
far. I had only been away from Los Angeles four days and already it
felt like my whole life there was being wiped away. I mean, I was
the one who had just lost my mom, and Allison never even asked how
I was feeling.
So much had happened to me since the
beginning of the summer that it was starting to seem as if Todd and
Allison Burch and trips to the Grove and sunny days in Los Angeles
existed in another universe.
Back in rock band universe, we all boarded
the bus bound for Atlanta. George strummed his acoustic guitar, I
worked at my summer reading list, and in general it was kind of fun
being together for a few hours while we traveled. Hours we spent on
the bus were the most I got to see of my dad, and he was typically
in an outgoing mood when we were all in a group. I got to know my
dad's body guards, heard a lot of stories from Dusty and Wade about
past tours, and best of all, was able to avoid making conversation
with Jill.
Our first afternoon in Atlanta, Jill informed
me that we were going shopping to buy me some new clothes. We left
Kelsey in the hotel with her nanny, a Brazilian woman named Cleo
who I had never met before that day, and a limousine took us to
downtown Buckhead.
Jill's former life as a professional stylist
came in handy as she tossed jeans and tops at me to try on.
"You've got long legs. You can wear tight
jeans. And detailed pockets on the rear will give your butt some
shape," she said, pushing me toward a dressing room. "Green looks
good on you with your eyes. And pink, with your complexion."
I have to say, as much as I really did not
desire any kind of a friendship or relationship with my father's
wife, the attention she showered on me that afternoon was a little
flattering. I made the mistake of checking out the price tag on one
of the pairs of jeans she had me try on and almost choked. My
mother would have killed me if I had ever asked for two hundred
dollars to buy a pair of pants. My mom had always teased me for
being fashion-handicapped but never
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