Indigo Blues by Danielle Joseph Page A

she's in my mom's book club.
Ugh, how convenient. Hopefully she doesn't notice me.
    The guys order burritos and I follow Krista's lead and
get a chicken fajita salad. I'm usually not such a poser, but
I don't feel like chowing down on a first date, either.
    The conversation is pretty mellow. We talk about
school for a bit and then the guys launch into a side discussion about football. So I turn to Krista and ask how she
likes working on the Raiders' Pride show.
    "It's great. I've always wanted to be on TV." Really, I
could never tell. "I'm good at it, too. I think I was born to
be in the limelight."
    I shove a chip into my mouth. I have to or I might
burst into laughter. She rambles on about how everyone
loves her. I shove more chips into my mouth.
    "And my next piece is going to be on you. About your
website and blog rant. I just found out about it today."
    My blog? I spit up a piece of chip. My website? More
flying chip particles. I spray the table with my residue. I
quickly wipe my face with my napkin.
    "Disgusting," Krista winces.
    Her squeal is enough for the guys to abruptly stop
talking. They stare straight at me.

    "Indigo has a blog?" Sam asks.
    Even Krista drops her table manners for gossip. She
answers with a mouth full of lettuce, "Oh my God, yeah. I
couldn't believe some of the stuff she has on there. I've got
to give it to her, she has balls."
    Hello, I'm right here. And, eww, I'm on a first date and
the last thing Tripp needs to hear is that I have balls.
    Tripp turns to me. "Whoa, am I on there?"
    "On where? What are you talking about?" I ask.
    All eyes roll over to Krista. I wipe my face again. I
know I can't wipe my embarrassment off, but still, I try.
    "Your pic is on there. And it's basically your story and
the history behind the song, `Indigo Blues."'
    "Is this a joke? Seriously, I have no idea what you're
talking about."
    I look over to the table next to us to make sure my
mom's friend isn't listening to our conversation. She's getting up to leave. Our eyes meet. Oh, crap. "Hi, Indigo,"
she says.
    I force a smile onto my face. "Hi."
    "Say hello to your mom for me."
    "I will." I breathe a sigh of relief as she pushes her chair
back in and leaves. I return my attention to our group.
    "So you're a blogger?" Sam asks.
    "Not me. That's probably Blank Stare's home page or
something," I say.
    Krista lets out a gust of air. "No, this is definitely your
side of the story." Then she turns away from me and addresses
the guys like they have front-row seating at a political debate. "The first thing Indigo says is, In sick of this crap. Im not the
girl from the song. I'm Indigo Jackson ... and then some blabby
stuff about her life that I really don't remember."

    In my head I'm screaming, Eli, I'm gonna kill you. But I
force the only words out of my mouth that make me sound
sane: "I swear I never set up a site." (Insert: me with daggers,
stabbing Eli.) "It sounds like something my brother put
together. He was asking me stupid questions yesterday."
    "Oh," Tripp says.
    "Oh," I say back.
    I can barely eat. I'm sure Eli wouldn't put something
really damaging on the site. Would he? I haven't done anything to piss him off lately, or anything more than usual
anyway.
    The table has fallen silent. There's a lot of crunching
and chewing. I scan everyone's eyes, trying to read what
they think of me.
    "This is so embarrassing," I finally say. "I hope no one
else saw it."
    "Yeah, you better hope not!" Krista scoffs.
    "`I won't look," Sam says.
    "Me neither." Tripp agrees.
    "Mum's the word." Krista makes a popping sound with
her lips.
    The TV gossip queen is going to keep her mouth shut?
Isn't that against her religion?
    "I appreciate it, guys." I feel slightly better, but I'm
totally freaked about the reality of what the site might say about me. Eli and his damn reporter's notebook. I should
rip that thing to shreds!

    "I think it's cool that you're in a song." Tripp smiles.
    "Thanks. I'm