Chapter 4

4

A t school the next day, Mr. Hursley, the computer teacher, gave final instructions to the class.

"Be sure to save your work often. The network has been acting up again, and it would be a shame to have the best homecoming flyer ever designed for Rockville High fall victim to a cyber-death."

He took a cursory lap around the room to make sure everyone was on task. The tap of keyboards in action filled the room. Satisfied, Mr. Hursley eased into his desk chair, adjusted his outdated bifocals, and settled into the sports section.

Libby eyed the people around her. To her right sat Courtney Golding and Allison Smith, two popular girls who believed the world revolved around them. They scooted their chairs close together and chatted. Libby heard them discussing their homecoming dresses and what trendy restaurant their dates would take them to. Homecoming was so far off Libby's radar.

On her left slouched basketball star Tom West, his incredibly long legs stretched far beneath the table. He peered toward the teacher's desk, where Mr. Hursley buried himself behind the newspaper. Tom slid in earbuds and began nodding to the beat of unheard music..

With everyone's attention elsewhere, she hunched closer to the keyboard, clicked on the internet. Most kids spent hours surfing the web. The only time Libby touched a computer was to work on school assignments during class. Aunt Marge would never own something as expensive as a laptop; she lived in the Dark Ages other than her cell phone, which she guarded from Libby. For the first time in many months, Libby was motivated to break the rules a little and play on the web.

Her nerves betrayed her as her hands began to shake. This was silly, everyone did it. Heck, half the students were on their phones during class. She just wanted to know more about Peter, and the information was a few keystrokes away.

Last night lying in bed, she'd remembered his last name. She took a deep breath and typed PETER JAMIESON.

Seeing his name on screen brought him to life as if he sat right before her. Her hand hovered over the enter key. Why was she nervous? She'd worked hard not to care about anything anymore, but now she wanted this so badly, her stomach hurt.

She bit her lower lip, reached out with her right index finger, and pressed enter.

104,710,084 items in 0.23 seconds.

Libby's jaw dropped. A list displayed item after item.

She leaned back in the chair, her hand covering her mouth. Over one hundred million hits! This couldn't possibly be right. She clicked on images, and there it was, his familiar smile over and over.

It made no sense. Why would the boy on the screen want to be her friend? What would a guy like Peter see in her? Was she going nuts? No, she still remembered the touch of his lips on her hands. This was insane!

She leaned forward, oblivious to the world around her, and began to read the headings.

Peter Jamieson, songwriting genius, strikes gold with new album.

Peter Jamieson visits kids at Tulsa children's hospital .

Peter Jamieson, lead singer of the band Jamieson, rocks Madison Square Garden.

"Miss Sawyer, that doesn't look anything like a homecoming flyer."

She jumped in her seat, knocking her knee against the table leg, then whipped around. Mr. Hursley stood planted behind her, arms crossed. Libby swallowed.

"Are you finished with your work already, or do you need detention to help get you back on track?" Mr. Hursley didn't mess around.

"No," she responded, her eyes like a deer's in the headlights. The heat in her body rose up her neck to her face, turning it a hot pink. Don't cry .

Basketball boy and the gossip girls watched, entertained to witness her embarrassment, and probably relieved she'd gotten caught messing around instead of them.

Mr. Hursley leaned forward, clicked on the screen, and closed the web page. Peter vanished from sight. The sudden void hit like a punch to her gut.

"Let's get back on task, shall we?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," she mumbled, wondering how she could go on with anything now that she knew where to find Peter. Everything about him was so near, only a few keystrokes away.

"I don't want to contact your parents." He paused and corrected himself. "Excuse me, I mean your aunt." Courtney and Allison stared at her, smirking.

Libby couldn't risk Aunt Marge getting a call. The last thing she wanted was to deal with Aunt Marge's hysterics. Libby needed a plan. She had to find a way to spend time on the computers without interruption or threat of detention. Just her and Peter, alone.

"That's beautiful, Peter. Something new?" Peter's mom eased into the seat across from him to enjoy the gentle melody he played on the guitar. The bus rolled on toward New Mexico, and his brothers played video games in back.

"Yeah, I can't stop thinking about it." He held the guitar as if it were an extension of his body. His fingers manipulated the strings on his acoustic guitar and created a beautiful sound that drifted through the bus.

"That's always a good sign," she said.

Peter knew he possessed an innate talent for songwriting. When inspired, magic flowed and hits were born, but if he tried to force it, the songs flopped.

"You were gone a long time when we stopped in Rockville," his mother said.

"Yeah, great day for a walk." He strummed, working out a chord. "Did you know there are amazing rock formations farther in the park? One trail goes way back, and the temperature is, like, twenty degrees cooler, with ferns and moss growing everywhere." He stopped playing. "It's really cool."

"Is it your inspiration for this new song?" she asked with the hint of a smirk.

"Yeah, I guess." He resumed playing, the music calling him back.

"Did your new friend show it to you?"

His head snapped up, and his mom smiled. "How'd you know?"

Her eyebrows rose, and her head tilted in suggestion.

"Adam." Peter frowned. "Of course."

"He can't help himself. He's just having fun," she said with a gentle smile. "So tell me about this girl. What's her name?"

"Libby." Her beautiful face flashed in his mind.

"And?"

"And what?" He grinned, not about to offer more.

"Tell me about her. When my son disappears for two hours with a girl, I get to ask questions."

"Mom, I'll be eighteen soon, and then you don't get to ask anymore," he teased.

"That's what you think. Mothers have amazing powers of persuasion."

Peter laughed. "There's not much to tell. She lives in Rockville."

"Two hours and that's all you got? You want to tell me how you filled the rest of the time?"

Peter grinned. "Wouldn't you like to know." He strummed randomly.

"Peter." She pierced him with her sternest mom glare. He laughed. "Okay, here's something juicy for you.

She's never heard of Jamieson."

His mother looked doubtful. "I didn't think that was possible. Everyone knows about Jamieson, unless they live under a rock."

"I'm not gonna lie—I didn't think it was possible, either, but she seriously had no idea. It's pretty nice, really. When I told her about the band, she figured we play weddings and school dances."

"I see why you like her," she said.

"She's nice," he said, but offered nothing more and began to play again.

His mom sat quietly and listened for a while.

"You know, on Saturday we'll be going back through that area."

Peter's heart leapt, but he played it cool. "Really? Do you think we can stop? I'd love to check out that area some more."

"I bet you would," she said.

"What?" He feigned innocence.

"I was just agreeing with you." His mother tried to control the grin on her face. "But, yes, I think we can stop."

Her cell phone rang. She stood to go answer it. "By the way, what's the name of your new song?"

"‘Angel Kisses,'" he answered.

The next day at school, Libby knocked on Miss Orman's open door, desperate to get her help.

"Hey, Libby, I haven't seen you for a while. How are you doing?" A half sandwich, a container of yogurt, and an apple sat on the cluttered desk near her keyboard.

"Good, thanks." Libby scanned the cramped office as she tried to get up the nerve to ask.

Miss Orman smiled at her knowingly. "Is there something in particular I can help you with?"

"Actually, yes." She eyed Miss Orman's PC and twisted the pendant she always wore. "I need to use a computer."

"Why don't you use the computer lab after school?"

"I can't do it before or after school. I ride the bus. And there's a class in the computer lab during my lunch."

"How about the computers in the library?" she asked.

"They're all busy." Libby offered her best pathetic, begging look.

Miss Orman seemed to consider her decision. "I take it this is very important to you?"

Libby nodded and held her breath. She needed to get back on the internet and check out some of the Peter Jamieson sites .

"Well, I suppose I could actually go to the lounge and eat lunch for a change, instead of making a mess out of my office." She glanced sideways at Libby. "Would right now be a good time?"

Libby nodded again, bringing a smile to Miss Orman's face.

"Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. You sell tickets for the Friday football game fan bus tomorrow during lunch, and I'll clear out right now."

"Done," Libby blurted. Even though she hated the idea of sitting alone at a table in the commons all through lunch, she'd agree to anything to get on Miss Orman's computer.

"All right, let me log off," she said as her fingers clicked on the keyboard to save and close files.

Libby's toe tapped in anticipation. Miss Orman grinned at her as she tidied the area around her keyboard and picked up her lunch items.

"I should be able to give you a good thirty minutes.

Will that work?"

"Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"No problem. Have fun."

Once Miss Orman left, Libby nudged the door partly closed to discourage anyone from dropping in. She eased into the counselor's chair, enjoying the comfort.

This time, she didn't hesitate. She brought up the search engine, typed Peter's name, and hit enter. At the sight of his face on the screen, she squealed and stamped her feet. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Immediately immersed in a world of Peter and the group called Jamieson, she went from one site to another, soaking up every word and photo. Jamieson was huge. They'd performed everywhere, including major sporting events, talk shows, and award shows. She couldn't believe she'd known nothing about them until now. Peter must think she lived under a rock, which was sort of true.

The time flew by so fast, she couldn't believe how soon Miss Orman returned. Libby's face must have shown disappointment, as she was about to click on a site with Jamieson's newest release.

"I guess I came back too soon."

"Has it really been a half hour?" She felt desperate to hear his voice again.

"It's been forty minutes. Didn't you hear the bell ring?"

"Oh my gosh, no." Her head jerked up to check the wall clock, confirming the late time. "I guess I better get going." She hated to do it, but she clicked the window closed, so Miss Orman wouldn't see what she'd been looking at: the official Jamieson site, with loads of pictures, music downloads, tour dates, blogs, and scheduled appearances. She could spend a day on it and never grow tired. How could she not have taken the time to hear their music?

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

Libby beamed as she stood and picked up her books .

"Yeah, thanks, I did. It was great." She felt a mix of euphoria from pouring over the details of Peter's life and regret at having to quit.

"Glad to help. You let me know if you need to get on again."

"I definitely will, thanks."

"Libby?"

"Yeah?" She turned back.

"Don't you think it would help if I gave you a late pass?"

"Oh yeah." Libby took the pink slip of paper and wandered out of the office toward her next class. All the photos of Peter and his brothers filled her head. Some were taken onstage, some from photo shoots, others greeting fans. Those were interesting. Lots of girls surrounded the three brothers, all with huge smiles, but she bet they never spent time alone with Peter just hanging out.

She needed to figure out how to get his music—and now—but she didn't have any money, or a phone to download it to. This could take some creativity.