Charlie's Song

By Joy Lynn Goddard

Charlie is a would-be singing star whose mixed-up family keeps standing in her way. She's embarrassed by her younger brother, Nicholas, who's a little "slow," and fed up by her mother who runs off to the casino every chance she gets. Her friend Matt is there to help, and she can count on her friend Shannon too. Or can she? Somehow her crazy life gets spread across the Internet. Charlie doesn't want to show her face at school again, but that would mean losing her spot in Teen Idol, the school's singing competition. Alessa would love that. After all, she plans on winning the competition and would stop at nothing to defeat Charlie. Suddenly Charlie finds herself in grave danger with more to lose than Teen Idol . . . She could lose her life!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joy Lynn Goddard
• Release date: Oct 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9780973621655

Joy Lynn Goddard

A former news reporter, Joy Lynn Goddard has had many articles and short stores published. Subsequently, she has turned her writing talent to producing fiction for a younger audience. She has published several books for children and young adults, including the popular Northview Tales Series: Daredevils, Charlie's Song and Hello, my name is Emily. Currently she is working on When Pigs Fly,a heart-stopping adventure about a bike-theft ring, which will be published next year. She lives in Guelph, Ontario.

Book preview

Charlie's Song

by Joy Lynn Goddard

Smashwords Edition

copyright 2011 Joy Lynn Goddard

ISBN 978-0-9736216-5-5

Charlie's Song is also available in print at http://www.chestnutpublishing.com, along with Joy Lynn Goddard's other print titles: Daredevils, Hello my name is Emily, Jazz, and Mrs. Maloney's Garden.

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Chapter 1

Home Sweet Home

The lock on Charlie’s bedroom door was broken. It had been that way for as long as she could remember, at least as long as the year her family had been living in the townhouse. Scraping the honey-coloured floor, she dragged her dresser across the bedroom and shoved it up against the door. She didn’t want her mother or brother barging into her room and asking a million questions.

She flicked on the lamp by the bed and tilted its shade upward. Like a spotlight, the beam cut into the dimly lit room. She picked up a hairbrush, which she’d covered in foil to look like a microphone, and pushed a button on the CD player. Avril Lavigne’s voice filled the room.

Charlie shut her eyes and imagined herself on a large dark stage in a pool of light:

She waits for the music to begin. At her feet, the audience is still, eager to hear her first note. As the first note is struck, she holds the microphone to her lips and begins to sing, her voice rich and golden. Her fans jump out of their seats with thundering applause. She smiles, her teeth as picture-perfect as the girl in the toothpaste ad on the back of the bus – and then she takes a bow. In the light, her hair looks reddish-gold, not its usual reddish-brown, and it curls around her face, the frizz gone. As the audience screams for more, she begins the song again.

The book lay open, face up, on Charlie’s unmade bed, the pages dog-eared from the many times she’d returned to each chapter and stained from the Doritos she ate while reading in bed. Ten Steps to Teen Success was going to make her a star. Thumbing through the book, she stopped to reread her favourite part: Visualize your dream . . . and then act upon it. . . . In no time at all your dream will come true. . . .

She tossed the book on the bed and turned to the CD player, now silent. Pushing a button, she searched for the song she knew by heart and prepared to sing along.

Stepping on the imaginary stage, she hoped her low-rise jeans and black T-shirt with FAME across the chest made the right statement. With no mirror in her room, she couldn’t check. She’d broken her mirror months before, and it had never been replaced.

Her best friend Shannon believed that a broken mirror brought seven years of bad luck. But Charlie didn’t take her seriously. After all, Shannon got carried away with superstitions. She’d toss salt over her shoulder to chase off the devil; when she saw a black cat, she’d stop dead in her tracks and turn around three times, exactly three times, to ward off evil spirits. Shannon wouldn’t dare step on a sidewalk crack for fear she’d break her mother’s back, so she’d walk like a crazy person all the way down the street, embarrassing herself and anyone who was with her.

Yet the broken mirror superstition had haunted Charlie for months. She’d had nothing but bad luck.

With her shoulders back, she took a deep breath and held the microphone brush to her lips. While Charlie bellowed out Avril’s song, someone pounded on the door.

Open up. It was Nicholas, her brother. A brat. He rattled the knob and tried to push the door open, but with the dresser in the way, he couldn’t.

What’s going on in there? he cried. He had to know everything about her life. Younger than she was, at 10, he assumed her life was much more interesting than his.

Charlie flew to the CD player and shut it off. Get lost, she shouted. Mind your own business. She wished he were like Shannon’s younger brother, who seemed to have a million friends and was always off doing something with one of them and was out of Shannon’s hair. But Nicholas didn’t have friends, except Jacob, a weirdo kid just like him who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere. Like Jacob, Nicholas couldn’t read. Not much, anyway. In Grade 5, he read like a kid in Grade 1. It was embarrassing.

Nicholas had worked a hole around the doorknob, now hanging by a loose nail, and was eyeballing Charlie, his large brownish-green eye like a toad’s. Thought you’d want to know, he called through the door, The phone’s for you.

Who is it?

Some guy. How should I know?

It was probably Matt, Charlie thought. And Nicholas knew it. He was just being a pest. Matteo Fabiano was the only guy who’d ever called her. Be right there. Tell him to wait. Charlie pulled the dresser away from the door and slid between the small opening into the hall. She ran down the stairs and picked up the phone in the kitchen. Hello?

Hi, it’s Matt.

Thought so. What’s up? Matt always had a good reason to call. He wasn’t like Shannon, who’d call and talk about absolutely nothing and stay on the phone for hours and hours.

"Who’s gonna get cut from American Idol tonight?" Matt asked. He loved watching the TV show that changed ordinary people into pop stars, and so did Charlie. Considering himself an expert on music – he could play the keyboard, guitar, and drums equally as well – he guessed which contestant would be cut from the show each week, and Charlie did the same.

John’s getting cut, Charlie said. He’s all show, no voice. What do you think?

Uh, George. He hasn’t got what it takes.

I like George. He’s got a great voice, not . . . Charlie checked the clock on the kitchen wall. It was exactly five minutes to showtime. There was just enough time to make popcorn and claim the remote before her brother got it and turned to some boring police show. Gotta go, it’s almost on. See you tomorrow. She hung up.

With a bowl of popcorn in her lap, Charlie leaned back in the living room recliner and clicked on the television. The announcer was stirring up the crowd, his voice rising as he fired off the names of each contestant who was running onto the stage. There was Diana, Charlie’s favourite, in black satin pants and shirt, with her long blonde hair swinging on her shoulders as she danced. She looked like a pop star and sang like one too. Wishing she could trade places with Diana, Charlie let out a heavy sigh.

Is something wrong? Charlie’s mother stood in the doorway with her coat on. I thought you liked that program.

Huh? Oh, I do.

Hmm, well that’s good. Just thought you sounded a little . . .

Charlie changed the subject, hoping her mother wasn’t going to launch into a long conversation. The contest had started and she didn’t want to miss a minute. Going to work?

Duty calls, her mom said. My shift lasts until 2:30 this morning. Should be home by three o’clock. Most nights Charlie’s mom worked as a cocktail waitress in a bar downtown. Earlier in the evening, she cleaned offices. She always looked tired. With deep circles under her eyes, in a face pinched and worn, she seemed much older than her years, like the school librarian, who looked ancient, especially when she was mad at a kid for not being quiet in the library. Despite two jobs, Mary Ann O’Brien never had enough money.

Charlie turned back to the television. A commercial was on. There would be several more commercials before the contestants returned, which was the only thing that Charlie found annoying about the show.

See you tomorrow, Mom, she said.

Don’t forget the laundry in the basement. It needs to be put in the dryer. I did the dishes. And please don’t forget about Nicholas. She took a step toward the door.

Whatever, Charlie grumbled as she slid down in the chair. How could she forget Nicholas? He was practically tied to her hip.

When their mom was working, Charlie was supposed to take care of Nicholas. There was no one else in the house who could help. Their dad had died when Charlie was 5 years old and Nicholas was a baby.

She couldn’t remember a lot about him, except that he smelled like Irish Spring, the soap he used every day, and that his hands were freckled from his love of the sun and outdoors. He liked to swoop Charlie off the ground and twirl her around with her legs flying out from behind, and she’d laugh until her sides hurt. But now, years later, she could hardly remember his face. Except for the picture in a small frame by her mother’s bed, she might have forgotten it: his eyes were a soft blue, just like Charlie’s, his hair was bright red and he was laughing as if someone had told him a joke. He had named her after himself although officially her name was Charlene.

Charles O’Brien had died in a boating accident while fishing on the lake near his home. Mary Ann O’Brien had hated the lake after that and had moved the family away. She’d moved the family often.

The O’Briens finally settled in Northview, a small city near Niagara Falls. They moved into a large red brick house that had a deck overlooking a spacious backyard surrounded by trees and gardens. In the centre of the backyard was a pond with a fountain that sprayed ice-cold water all day long.

They didn’t stay in the neighbourhood long. The O’Briens were forced to move to a less expensive house when Mary Ann lost her job. One day Charlie was sunbathing on her deck, and the next, she was stuck in a run-down