Alone in the Crowd Read online

  "Didn't Dana tell you?" Jessica demanded, eyes widening in disbelief. "The cheerleaders are throwing a big dance in the gym next Saturday night, and we're positively dying for The Droids to play. Let me give you a ride to school," she begged him impulsively. "We have to talk, Guy!"

  Guy looked questioningly at Lynne. "But—"

  "Go ahead," Lynne said in a low voice, her heart pounding. She didn't expect Jessica to include her in the invitation. Why bring along excess baggage?

  Jessica didn't even seem to notice Lynne. "Come on," she sang out. "You have to help me out, Guy. I'm just desperate!"

  "Would you mind, Lynne?" Guy asked uncomfortably, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Maybe we could talk again later, after school or something."

  "I don't mind," Lynne said, her throat aching from the knot that had suddenly formed. "Go ahead, Guy. I'll see you around sometime."

  Guy flashed her a dazzling smile. "You're a real sport, you know that?" he said. And the next minute he was bounding across the road, opening the door on the passenger's side of Jessica's car and slipping in beside her. Jessica flipped her hair back, said something Lynne couldn't hear, and laughed, a silvery peal of laughter that made Lynne's heart drop down to knee level.

  She's laughing at me, Lynne thought woodenly, watching the red sports car pull away.

  Lynne took a deep breath, fighting tears. She couldn't believe what a fool she'd been to think it was going to be any different with Guy. OK, so he loved music as much as she did. That didn't mean he wasn't a normal, red-blooded boy who could easily be charmed by a beautiful girl. What was it he said he liked about Linda Ronstadt? She couldn't remember, but Lynne was sure the beauty of Ronstadt's face had struck him as much as the beauty of her voice. Thank heavens Lynne hadn't told him she played the guitar or wrote music. He probably would have laughed at her.

  As she walked the last few blocks to school, Lynne felt numb. By the time she had made it to the front door, homeroom was about to begin. The halls were crowded with students, and she looked around her, a strange, blank expression on her face, like a terrified child on a diving board, staring down at the water.

  Another long day was ahead of her. She plunged numbly into the crowded corridor, barely noticing the excited chatter around her. People were talking about their classes, the upcoming Rock Around the Clock relay the cheerleaders were organizing, and the junior-class softball game scheduled for Friday afternoon at Secca Lake.

  But no one talked to Lynne.

  And why should they? she asked herself. This was a day like any other. So why in the world should she expect anybody to pay her the slightest bit of attention? She was alone, and it looked as if that was the way it was going to stay.

  Four

  "Elizabeth," Jessica wailed, bending over to tug on the brand-new lace anklets she was wearing. "We're never going to catch up with Ken and Winston and those guys if you keep reading and rereading that stuff! Do you want to walk to Secca Lake?"

  Elizabeth laughed as she glanced at the last few lines of the copy she had typed that morning for the next "Eyes and Ears" column. "The Droids are still talking about a song contest," her column concluded. "Can we expect to find a brand-new songwriter in our midst any day now?"

  "I'm ready," she told her twin, slamming her notebook shut. It was Friday afternoon, and the twins were supposed to meet a big group out in the parking lot of Sweet Valley High—Ken, Winston, Bill Chase, DeeDee Gordon, Enid, Roger Patman, Olivia Davidson—before dividing up into cars and driving out to Secca Lake. That afternoon was the junior-class softball game, sponsored each year by Mr. Collins and Mr. Jaworski. Not everyone played, but everyone joined in on the fun, enjoying an afternoon of sunshine on the beautiful fields surrounding the sparkling lake. Elizabeth was looking forward to the afternoon as much as Jessica.

  "Hey!" Enid called a few minutes later, hurrying across the parking lot to join the twins. "We've all been wondering what was holding you two up. We could hardly get started without our favorite first basewoman!"

  Elizabeth linked her arm through Enid's. "I'm afraid my softball arm is a little rusty," she said ruefully. "It's worn out from frantically trying to rewrite the 'Eyes and Ears' column!"

  "It took her forever," Jessica grumbled. "And the worst thing is, she only wrote one sentence on the most important piece of news!"

  "So that's what's bugging you." Elizabeth laughed. "You mean the Rock Around the Clock relay, I take it?"

  "What else?" Jessica demanded, aggrieved. "The biggest event of the year," she complained to Enid, "and our ace reporter here practically ignores it."

  "I'm all for the relay, Jess," Elizabeth said dryly, "but frankly, eight girls and one rocking chair is not my idea of the biggest event of the year. Besides," she said and giggled, "you guys have advertised this thing well enough without my help. You must have thirty signs up in the main hall alone!"

  Jessica pouted. "Eight girls and one rocking chair," she repeated moodily. "Is that the way you see it?" Her aqua eyes darkened as she regarded her twin. "For your information, we have permission from the office to have a dance in the gym from eight till eleven on Saturday, and The Droids have agreed to play. And we've lined up teachers who will take turns staying up and monitoring us. It's turning into the biggest event of the whole semester!"

  Enid and Elizabeth exchanged glances.

  "Jess, I think the relay's a great idea," Elizabeth said consolingly. "Honestly. You know I backed it from the start! And now that you've gotten The Droids to play, it's guaranteed to be a great success! I just wasn't sure it was really the right kind of news to highlight in the column, that's all."

  Jessica looked somewhat mollified. "It's really going to be a great time," she said, brightening in anticipation. "We're each going to rock for an hour at a time. There are eight of us, so that means we'll each have to take three turns. The only bad part is going to be in the middle of the night, but at least we'll be able to keep each other company."

  Enid laughed. "You're going to need it at three in the morning," she joked.

  By now the three had joined the group gathered at the end of the parking lot. "What a day for a softball game," Ken Matthews was saying, glancing up appreciatively at the cloudless sky.

  "Let's get going!" Jessica exclaimed. "I want to get to Secca Lake so I can start getting pledges for next Saturday night." She glanced meaningfully around the circle. "I know you guys are all going to pledge me a dollar an hour, right?"

  "You're off your rocker," Winston joked, ignoring the groans around him.

  "Don't you know puns are the lowest form of humor?" Enid teased Winston, her green eyes sparkling.

  "Give him time," Jessica retorted. "I guarantee he'll come up with something lower!"

  Elizabeth barely noticed the banter around her as her friends began to argue over which cars to take. Her eye was on a scene taking place several yards away, next to the new silver van that belonged to Max Dellon, the lead guitar player for The Droids. Guy Chesney was talking animatedly to Lynne Henry, his hands moving expressively as he spoke. Lynne appeared to be listening attentively.

  What a difference, Elizabeth thought. She had barely recognized Lynne at first—that was how powerful a change a smile could make!

  Lynne looked as if she were really having fun, Elizabeth realized. And once again she wondered what kind of person had been hiding behind the sullen expression the girl usually wore.

  With a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye, Lynne Henry was actually almost pretty!

  "Don't you feel like playing?" Lynne asked uncertainly, standing in the shade of an enormous oak tree near the baseball diamond, nervously twisting a bit of leaf she'd scooped up from the grass.

  Guy shook his head. "I'm not that big on sports," he confided. "Why don't we just sit down for a while and watch?"

  "OK," Lynne said, feeling a little dazed. She still couldn't believe she had actually come to Secca Lake with Guy. When he had asked her if she wanted a ride, she couldn't believe her ears. Guy didn't have a car, having sold his station wagon a few months earlier, but he said there was plenty of room in Max's van and Max wouldn't mind. And sure enough, he hadn't. The van had been so crowded that one extra person hadn't made much difference.

  The funny thing was that Lynne hadn't been the slightest bit nervous during the ride out to the park grounds. The atmosphere in the van had been so relaxed and lighthearted that she felt perfectly at ease. No one had talked to her after saying a casual hello, but that was fine with her. She just wanted to observe, to listen to every word they said. The Droids had always been her biggest heroes. Lynne knew every song they played, and sometimes when she played the guitar, she imagined she was Dana Larson, the sleek, trendy blond who was their lead singer.

  Now, though, the Droids had scattered, and she was alone with Guy. Her old clumsiness had come back, and she felt tongue-tied and miserable.

  But Guy didn't seem to be aware of her discomfort. Plopping down on the soft grass, he sighed with contentment, observing the scene before him. "What a perfect day," he mused.

  "I usually hate things like this," Lynne said, more to herself than to Guy. Her face flushed. What an idiot, she reprimanded herself sharply. That's hardly a nice thing to tell someone like Guy!

  His brown eyes widened. "Why?" he asked. But the way he said it, he didn't sound like her mother. He sounded concerned, as if he really wanted to know why she felt the way she did.

  "I don't know." Lynne shrugged. "I've always been kind of a loner. My father died when I was really little, and I've had to fend for myself for so long that I guess I've gotten almost too self-reliant. I'm not really a people-person," she concluded.

  Guy picked a blade of grass, then regarded her thoughtfully. "That's intere
sting," he said. "It sounds kind of familiar. Sometimes I feel that I'm not very good with crowds, either. I tell myself it's partly because of my music, because I need time alone to work. Maybe you're the same way. Maybe you have an artistic temperament, too."

  Lynne looked away, embarrassed. It was as if Guy could see right inside her, straight through to her innermost thoughts. "No," she said simply, "I don't think so. I think I'm just shy."

  Suddenly there were so many things she wanted to tell Guy. She wanted to tell him all about her guitar, about the lessons she had started giving at the Music Center. But she couldn't. She was afraid he would laugh at her and think she was a fool to expect to make it in a competitive world like the music industry.

  Instead she sat back and listened to Guy. She was amazed at how easy it seemed to be for him to share things. He talked so naturally about his childhood, his devotion to music, his ambitions. "I'm going to try to get accepted to a music conservatory when I graduate from high school," he was saying. "I couldn't stand going to a regular college. Maybe Juilliard," he added. Otherwise, he was going to try to get into another band, try to fight his way to the top somehow.

  Lynne closed her eyes briefly. She had a sudden vision of Guy playing keyboard for a chart-topping band. She could see him perfectly, playing his heart out, and next to him, in a glittery white dress, the singer who had made the group's success possible: Lynne Henry. Her hair redone, her skin glowing, her voice so vibrant and beautiful that the crowds were swooning. Afterward everyone would try to fight for her autograph, but Guy would pick her up in his arms and run through the throngs to the nearby limousine. "You were wonderful," he'd say. "Just like always, Lynne." And then, the most magical moment of all: he would lean closer and closer, his lips touching hers, her arms tightening around his neck as they kissed passionately—

  "Guy!" Dana Larson called, interrupting Lynne's reverie. "Come on. We've been looking everywhere for you. We want to announce our new song contest before the game gets under way."

  Guy jumped to his feet. "Sorry," he said to Lynne. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

  Lynne mumbled something, wishing she could, for once in her life, say something appropriate at a moment like this. She always felt like a prize moron about things that no one else would even blink at!

  What song contest? she was wondering, getting clumsily to her feet and following Guy and Dana across the sunny field. The junior class had gathered at the baseball diamond, and Mr. Collins was blowing a whistle and waving his arms for everyone to be quiet.

  "Welcome to the annual junior-class softball game," he said, smiling at the roar of applause that greeted his words. He waited a minute for everyone to be quiet. "We've got a special announcement this afternoon from our very own rock group, The Droids, and I promised them they could have the floor—or, should I say, the diamond—before we choose teams and get this ball game under way."

  A hush fell over the crowd.

  Dana Larson took Mr. Collins's place on the pitcher's mound, and the rest of The Droids gathered around her. "We just wanted to let all of you know that we're officially starting our Star-Search Song Contest," Dana announced. "We're posting signs all over school and running an ad in The Oracle, but we thought we'd tell you guys firsthand this afternoon. Any student at Sweet Valley High is eligible to enter the contest. Songs have to be original and should be submitted by cassette to the Oracle office."

  "By when?" DeeDee Gordon asked from the back of the crowd.

  "We'll be accepting entries between now and next Friday at noon," Dana said, putting her hands up when a few people booed. "I know, I know," she said. "That's only a week. But songwriters always have to work under pressure! We're looking for something really special," she added. "Something fresh and new with a lot of heart—not just the same rock song without any meaning." She paused and looked around at her attentive classmates. "The winner's song," she concluded dramatically, "will be performed at our next big gig."

  This news was greeted with a burst of spontaneous applause. Lynne turned away, her heart hammering. She couldn't believe it—it was like a dream come true! Ignoring the chattering students around her, who were pushing forward to be chosen for teams, Lynne made her way back to the place where she and Guy had been sitting. A song contest, a chance to find out once and for all if she had any real talent! And she would really give the contest her best effort. Especially now that she knew Guy would help judge the tapes.

  And the prize! Lynne tried to imagine one of her songs actually being performed by The Droids. It would be a dream come true.

  Are you crazy? she thought suddenly, furious with herself for being such a jerk. She couldn't enter the song contest. There was no way she could let anyone hear a cassette of her singing. She'd rather die.

  She was on the outside, and that was all there was to it. On the outside looking in.

  The outside looking in. . . . That sounded like a song title! she thought. Her brow knotted with concentration, Lynne tried to imagine those words set to music. She felt the electric current running through her that meant she was on to something—something good.

  I don't care, she thought suddenly, her eyes flashing with determination. She was going to enter that contest. She was going to write the best song she possibly could, and she wasn't going to worry about what would happen if anyone heard her sing on tape, either. Because she wasn't going to put her name on the cassette she submitted.

  People wrote anonymous poems and anonymous letters to the editor and anonymous graffiti—so why couldn't she write an "anonymous" song?

  "Anonymous," she said aloud, half bitterly and half seriously.

  It was the mask that was going to allow Lynne Henry to show everyone what she was really about. And it was going to be a really special song, too. It was going to be written for all the "nobodies" out there: for anyone who knew what it felt like to be anonymous when everyone else had a name—for anyone who had ever known what it was like to be on the outside, looking in.

  Five

  "Lynne," Mrs. Henry said, poking her head inside the door to Lynne's room, "I was wondering if we could have a talk."

  Lynne was sitting on her bed, her guitar in her arms. "Could it wait, Mom? I'm right in the middle of—"

  "Not really," her mother interrupted, opening the door wider. "Sweetie, I thought you were going to do your homework after dinner from now on! Didn't we decide that would be the best way to get your grades up?"

  Lynne bit her lip. "We" hadn't decided anything of the sort, she thought. Her mother was the one who had done all the deciding, as usual. "I'm writing a song," Lynne said quietly. "And I don't have any homework today, Mom. We had a softball game out at Secca Lake, so we missed all our afternoon classes."

  Mrs. Henry's face softened. "Secca Lake," she said dreamily. "That's such a beautiful place. Did you—" She hesitated, looking as if she were trying to think of the right way to word what she wanted to ask. "Did you have a good time?" she asked finally.

  "It was OK," Lynne said noncommittally, wishing her mother would go back downstairs and leave her alone.

  But Mrs. Henry didn't seem to be going anywhere. "Lynne, I know you don't like it when I pry," she began.

  Lynne's face tightened up automatically. "Not really," she mumbled.

  "But I was wondering if you're finding it any easier at school now." Mrs. Henry looked embarrassed and disappointed at the same time. Lynne pushed her glasses up on her nose, the way she always did when she was nervous or upset. "School's OK," she said, knowing she sounded about as thrilled as if she'd been asked if she would like to go have a few cavities filled.

  "Oh, Lynne," her mother said suddenly, tears filling her beautiful eyes. "I feel so bad when you won't even talk to me! Don't you think I know how it feels to be lonely?"

  Lynne stared at her mother. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said dully. Her throat ached. She didn't know why she acted like such a brat around her mother. She loved her with all her heart. Her mother was all she had, and she would die if anything ever happened to her. Yet she couldn't bring herself to do anything her mother asked. "I'm sorry," she said woodenly, still clutching her guitar. "I don't know what's the matter with me, Mom. I guess I'm just a big zero in every department!"