"I said that-" Again he looked over his shoulder and I couldn't read his lips.

By now there must have been a hundred people grouped around us. I'd never felt so public in my life. And then Belson strutted up, ready to hand out detentions like so much confetti if the occasion called for it. Which, to be honest, I suspected it was about to.

I fingered the ends of my hair nervously, reminding myself of the pink strands that represented the new Piper-the real real Piper. The Piper who wouldn't hide or back down. What would Piper. The Piper who wouldn't hide or back down. What would that that Piper do? Piper do?

Suddenly I felt calmer, more in control. I put Belson out of my mind-if he wanted to break up the fight, so be it, but until then, I needed to focus.

"Oh, Josh Josh Josh," I said sweetly. "You think that n.o.body here knows what you're doing. But you're wrong."

For the first time, the sheen wore off Josh's performance. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Everyone knows I'm deaf, Josh. They know I'm reading your lips," I continued, even though I realized this was probably news to at least half the people there. "So stop trying to humiliate me. I'm not disabled, Josh, and trying to make out that I am just makes you look like an even bigger jerk than usual."

I waited for the witty comeback, the one-liner that ended the faceoff in Josh's favor. I knew it was coming, but as Josh looked around, I think he saw in everyone's faces the same look I saw: a mixture of sadness and disgust. All of them were muttering, and even though I couldn't hear a word, I knew that every one of them was ripping Josh, not me.

Josh turned on his heel and stormed off, and for a moment I wondered if he'd just quit the band. But then I felt Belson's hand on my shoulder, and he was pointing in the direction of his office. Amazing-after Finn's tireless efforts to break every rule in the book, I'd still be the first Vaughan ever hauled into Belson's office. It took me twenty-eight steps to get there, plenty of time to wonder how my parents would respond to yet another disciplining.

Once we were inside and the door was shut, Belson lowered himself gingerly onto his ratty black chair. "Your hair is pink," he said, like he'd only just put his finger on what was different about me.

I nodded.

"Ed told me he's leaving the chess club."

I nodded again. "I told him he should."

Belson heaved a sigh. "May I ask why? It's not as if we're inundated with members."

"He was only in it because he had a crush on me. He's actually a terrible player. So I figured we should just date, and then he could stop pretending he had any interest in chess."

Belson's eyebrows seemed to have taken up permanent residence along his hairline. "I see." And then he smiled, and laughed, and I was utterly confused. "You know, Piper, I've always thought of chess as a form of civilized combat. It allows even the most peaceful folk to unleash their inner dictator. It's a game that rewards the more aggressive player, the one who outwits the other. And then, when the game is over, we can go back to being polite, and meek, and shy." He paused, tapping his finger against his cheek. "But I've also wondered if it wouldn't just be better for us to unleash those inner demons for real, you know?"

I shook my head.

"Oh, I think you do. Ever since you arrived at this school you've been the most calculating, conniving, and generally vicious chess player I've ever met. But away from the chessboard, everyone has walked all over you. Now something's changed."

I looked down at my hands. I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what he said next.

Belson waited for me to look up again. "I appreciate good students, Piper. I like it when they're polite, and prompt, and attentive. But I also like it when the best students finally catch on to the fact that they really are better better than the poor students . . . when they realize they need to stop hiding out, hoping no one notices them. What I'm saying is: What took you so long?" than the poor students . . . when they realize they need to stop hiding out, hoping no one notices them. What I'm saying is: What took you so long?"

Suddenly he was smirking, and it dawned on me there would be no detentions given out today. And because he couldn't seem to stop smirking, I had time to work something else out too.

"You didn't tell the princ.i.p.al we were playing in the parking lot, did you."

The smirking stopped, but the eyes kept twinkling. "He's a hard man to find at the best of times."

I nodded appreciatively. "Thank you. And thank you for finding us before any of the other teachers did."

Belson rubbed his chin. "Well, as long as I was there, it saved anyone else from having to discipline you. Believe me, no teacher wants to give up their lunch break arguing with the second coming of Kurt Cobain."

I felt like he'd paid me the ultimate compliment, but I kept that to myself. Belson had me pegged as the next chess Grandmaster, and it was clearly working in my favor.

CHAPTER 49.

Finn was hiding out in the bas.e.m.e.nt, eyes closed, headphones practically swallowing his head while he strummed his guitar. When I touched his arm he leaped up, and the headphones clattered to the floor.

What's going on? he signed. he signed.

Will you go to the s...o...b..x for me tomorrow? I'm grounded, but I want someone there to make sure it goes okay.

Finn shook his head, which surprised me.

Please? Tash will be there, I reminded him. I reminded him.

No, I can't. I'll be watching Grace.

What? You're babysitting?

Yes. Mom and Dad don't think a rock concert is a good place for a baby.

I couldn't believe it. My concert? My concert?

Finn was trying hard not to grin. They want to go. And they only trust me to look after Grace. They want to go. And they only trust me to look after Grace. He paused, thought about that. He paused, thought about that. That's what they said, anyway. That's what they said, anyway.

What about me? I asked, hurt by the implication. I asked, hurt by the implication.

You're busy.

Why?

You'll be at the concert too. He pretended to study his guitar, which made it clear he'd had a hand in this development. He pretended to study his guitar, which made it clear he'd had a hand in this development.

What have you been up to?

Finn picked out a few chords that I couldn't hear, then gave up. I told Dad about the contract you negotiated. You know he loves anything that makes money. I told Dad about the contract you negotiated. You know he loves anything that makes money.

I wanted to be mad at him, but actually I should've thought of it myself. And now he's going to let me go to the concert? Just like that? And now he's going to let me go to the concert? Just like that?

I said you'd have to cancel if you couldn't be there.

d.a.m.n. Finn was really good. And he believed you? And he believed you?

Finn snorted. He was seeing dollar signs. He didn't question anything. He was seeing dollar signs. He didn't question anything.

I couldn't believe my parents were going to see Dumb. I began to panic, wondering what they'd think of the band.

Right on cue, Dad appeared on the stairs, Grace pinned to his hip.

Are you sure you'll be okay with her? I signed hurriedly. I signed hurriedly.

As Dad approached, Finn put his guitar on the floor and held out his arms to take Grace. She seemed to enjoy it too. "Yes, Piper, I'll be okay," he said.

I stared into Grace's bright blue eyes and ran my fingers over her dimpled cheeks. "What'll you do with her?" I asked Finn.

"I'll just stick her in the baby carrier, wander around downtown. Maybe meet you all afterwards. I'm sort of hoping people will a.s.sume it's my kid and give me dirty looks."

Dad c.o.c.ked an eyebrow but didn't say a word. I think that privately he was relishing the thought of an evening without diaper changes. When he headed back upstairs, I decided to stick around. Finn's company was comfortable, calming. I even began to wish I were a little more like him.

"Did you ever find out why Baz was sending you all over Seattle to check out dead rock stars?" he asked, conducting Peek-a-boo 101 with Grace.

"It wasn't Baz."

Finn looked up suddenly, and Grace arched her back in disgust. "So . . . that whole ZARKINFIB thing was, what-just a diversion?"

"Yeah. A good one too. I wouldn't have gone if I'd known the messages weren't from ..." A thought crossed my mind-a single, momentous thought. I was sure I must be mistaken, but even more certain that I wasn't. "How did you know the username, Finn?"

He only hesitated a second, but it may as well have been an hour. "You told us."

"No. Ed told you the username was an anagram of Baz Firkin, but he was the only one who saw it on my computer."

Finn's poker face was eluding him when he needed it most. "I don't know how I know."

I suddenly remembered how it had been Finn who "discovered" the details about Hendrix's house being moved. But even though I'd solved the mystery, it still didn't make any sense.

"Why did you do it?" I asked.

Finn resumed peek-a-boo with Grace, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. "I saw you the day Dumb played on the school steps . . . the way you watched them, and screamed at the end. Everyone there knew how b.a.l.l.sy it was for Dumb to do that, but when you saw them later on, you totally dissed them."

I raised my hand to interrupt, but Finn shook his head. This was his confession, and he needed me to hear him out.

"They totally should've called you on it, but instead they made you manager. And the next thing I know, you've got them playing soft rock on some pathetic station no one listens to anymore, and when that backfires, you threaten Kallie. It was a freaking disaster and it was all your fault. And it really p.i.s.sed me off that you had this chance to do something amazing, but you didn't care about anything but the money. I just wanted you to see there was more to it than that, so I sent the message. I never thought you'd tell anyone, and I definitely didn't think you'd go go . . . but you did." Now that he was done, he seemed surprised to find he was still playing peek-a-boo. . . . but you did." Now that he was done, he seemed surprised to find he was still playing peek-a-boo.

"I get it now," I said quietly. "I really do."

He nodded, but he wouldn't make eye contact. "You must hate me, huh?"

I leaned forward, caught a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror on the wall. "No, Finn, I don't hate you at all. How could I hate you for being right?"

A smile crept across his face. "You have to admit, that trip to Hendrix's house-"

"Was kind of surreal, yeah."

We both laughed then. And when we stopped and there was nothing but silence, we laughed again. After so much chaos, so much noise, it was sublime.

CHAPTER 50.

We never got around to discussing dress codes for the s...o...b..x performance-not that we'd have agreed on one anyway-and as they took the stage, Dumb certainly presented an eclectic mix. Ed looked casual-cool in a tight yellow T-shirt that read "Roll over Beethoven." Josh had the preppy J. Crew thing down cold. Even Will looked okay in that black-jeans-plus-black-shirt, undertaker-in-training kind of way. Tash had dyed her spikes a freaky purple for the occasion (in honor of Jimi Hendrix's "Purple Haze," she said). And Kallie wore an unflattering gray cardigan that looked like it belonged to a man twice her size. She wasn't even wearing makeup, and her lank hair seemed to be crying out for whatever nourishing product it was used to receiving on a daily basis.

Although they were nothing to write home about individually, together they looked like the real deal. And it had less to do with their clothes than the venue, an art-deco palace with deep red walls and an immense ceiling supported by fluted golden pillars. The decor seemed to inspire Dumb too, and as soon as GBH allowed them onstage, Ed took control and had them up and running without so much as a word of discussion. Instead of being intimidated by their surroundings, they behaved like they'd been waiting for this opportunity to show exactly what they could do. After countless hours of rehearsing, and (most likely) a sleepless night, Dumb's five flavors were ready to rock.

Or rather, four of them were.

It almost made me cry: Kallie Sims, twenty-first-century grunge girl, hiding at the back of the stage in self-imposed exile, shrinking into the folds of her cardigan like she was hoping no one would notice she was even there. Only, the s...o...b..x stage hadn't been designed as a place to hide. Instead it showcased her rhythmic deficiencies in all their spotlighted glory. This time no one needed to take the initiative and turn down her amp-she did it herself as soon as the first song was over.

To their credit, GBH had given Dumb more than an hour to run a sound check and rehea.r.s.e their set. I wanted to celebrate every minute of it too-the seamless transitions, the subtle-but-constant eye contact, the way they seemed to be having fun for the first time in a long time-but Kallie bowed her head throughout. And when it was all over, I noticed someone was waving at me from a seat across the bar table where I was sitting.

In the low light it took me a moment to recognize the lead singer of GBH. He was scary thin, with thick bags under his eyes. He smiled without opening his mouth, but spoke with his whole face when he introduced himself as Joby Barrett. We shook hands, and then there was an awkward but meaningful silence.

"Our manager says you're deaf," he said speculatively. He waited for me to show signs of recognition. "Severely deaf, or profoundly deaf?"

I was surprised he knew the difference. "Moderately severe."

"So you heard some of what was going on up there?"

"Some, but it's kind of a mess."

"I won't tell them you said that," he laughed. "But seriously, I'll tell you what I heard, just in case you're interested, okay?"

"Okay," I said, although I knew I wasn't going to enjoy any conversation that began with a disclaimer.

"Look, Dumb is a really promising band. You can't fake that kind of energy. But-and I'm just being honest here-it took me a while to realize that girl in the cardigan was actually part of it."

There didn't seem to be any point in pretending I didn't understand, so I just nodded.

"Like I say, this is just my opinion, but you can't be carrying around dead weight. Audiences aren't dumb, if you'll excuse the pun. It'll kill the band eventually. So if you really have high hopes for them, you're going to have to cut her loose. Not today, obviously, but sometime."

I couldn't hate him for speaking his mind, but a part of me wished he'd never stopped by. Especially not when he looked up and nodded at someone behind me.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Josh, seated alone a couple of tables down. He took the opportunity to come over and introduce himself to Joby, then pulled up a chair and joined us. Before Josh had even begun to speak, Joby excused himself, and suddenly we were alone.

"I heard what he said," Josh announced.

"Of course you did."

"So what are you going to do?"

I rolled my eyes. "Right now . . . nothing."