What.
"So? Are you gonna do what I tell you, or am I gonna have to spill the beans?"
No.
"I don't have all day, you know! Hu-I mean, Nick Malory is waiting for me at the mall, and Mina's already over there picking out my new outfits for me!"
This wasn't happening.
"Well? I'm talkin' to you!"
This had to be a bad dream. Wakey wakey Laney…before it gets any worse.
"HEY! ANSWER ME!"
That day had started out as a good day for Laney; a breakfast of piping hot pancakes, an hour or so of blogging about popular bands, underground cartoons, and food, and then a quick jaunt over to her crush's garage for band practice. Their tunes had been getting better, and Laney had been working with Corey on a couple of their own lyrics to use in their upcoming gig at the Peaceville Popfest; all the best bands from around town would be competing, and Grojband was determined to blow the competition right out of the water.
This, however, is where the day had started to a little…well, sour.
"Dude, comfort doesn't rhyme with concrete…not to mention comfortable concrete doesn't even make sense! And how are we gonna make anything work with 'turtles'? Where did you even pull that from? This is supposed to be a song about facades and masks, dude, not the local zoo." The bassist squinted at the quickly scrawled words on the lined paper, before Corey simply snatched it out of her hands and crumpled it up.
"Let's face it; these lyrics are total garbage! We'll never beat the Grossmans if we can't make some rockin' words to these poppin' tunes!"
"Well, Cor-" Kin interjected, setting his headphones around his neck as he unplugged his keyboard. "Maybe if you'd tap into that lyrical side of your brain more often, we wouldn't be in this mess. We're not going to be able to rely on your sister for every single gig we play at, you know." Kon offered a nod of consent, and Laney simply let out a huff.
Corey only shrugged it off. He knew they'd get those lyrics; whether they came from his crazy sister's diary or not didn't really matter. "Well, my plans never failed us before, right?" The band members shot nervous glances at each other, though these looks were largely ignored by their band leader as he smiled deviously to himself. "And I've got one that might just work…" Corey spun around, pointing to his first hand girl. "Lanes, you said Trina and Mina were over at your place, right?"
Laney's brows both raised in alarm. When had she said that?
"No…? Why?" There were notable tones of concern in her voice; if Trina ever got ahold of her secret or –god forbid– pictures of her room, that'd be the end of Laney Penn and she knew it.
Corey shrugged. "Well, either you told me she was over there, or she said something about going over there earlier—Lanes?"
She was out of the garage and sprinting down the street before anyone could call her name, much less attempt to stop her. Corey was about to run after her when he glanced back briefly at where Laney had just been sitting and noticed something peculiar. Jutting out from one of the pockets on her favorite lime green coat was a folded clump of papers. Maybe she'd been working on the song before she'd gotten to the garage? No harm in checking it out. Corey casually pulled the paper from its hidey hole and opened it out to get a better look at it…and his jaw was on the floor in seconds.
"GUYS! I know what we're playin' at the gig! Let's practice!"
Kin tapped him on the shoulder, giving him a blank look from behind his round thick lenses glasses. "You know we can't play without Laney, right?"
"Oh." Corey gave a shrug. "Right. We'll practice when she gets back, then."