Screaming Divas by Suzanne Kamata
Publication Date: May 18th, 2014
Publisher: Merit Press
Pages: 208
Genre: YA Contemporary
At sixteen, Trudy Baxter is tired of her debutante mom, her deadbeat dad, and her standing reservation at the juvenile detention center. Changing her name to Trudy Sin, she cranks up her major chops as a singer and starts a band, gathering around other girls ill at ease in their own lives. Cassie Haywood, would-have-been beauty queen, was scarred in an accident in which her alcoholic mom was killed. But she can still sing and play her guitar, even though she seeks way too much relief from the pain in her body and her heart through drugs, and way too much relief from loneliness through casual sex. Still, it’s Cassie who hears former child prodigy Harumi Yokoyama playing in a punk band at a party, and enlists her, outraging Harumi’s overbearing first-generation Japanese parents. The fourth member is Esther Shealy, who joins as a drummer in order to be close to Cassie–the long-time object of her unrequited love–and Harumi, her estranged childhood friend. Together, they are Screaming Divas, and they’re quickly swept up as a local sensation. Then, just as they are about to achieve their rock-girl dreams, a tragedy strikes.
About the Author:
Back in the day, Suzanne Kamata spent a lot of time hanging out in a club in Columbia, South Carolina, much like the one in Screaming Divas. (The beat goes on . . .) She later wrote about musicians for The State newspaper, The Japan Times, and other publications. Now, she mostly writes novels. In her free time, she enjoys searching for the perfect fake fur leopard-print coat and listening to the Japanese all-girl band Chatmonchy. Her YA debut, Gadget Girl: The Art of Being Invisible was named the 2013-2014 APALA YA Honor Book and Grand Prize Winner of the Paris Book Festival.
For more info, visit http://www.suzannekamata.com or follow her on Twitter @shikokusue.
An Exclusive Excerpt
from
The Screaming Divas
By
Suzanne Kamata
Trudy
got her hands on a guitar. Actually, it was her father’s guitar,
the one he’d played in his band. The instrument had a history of
smoky bars, fields of wild flowers, park benches, Greyhound buses.
It had been all over the place, probably even Dahomey.
She
was going to ask to borrow it, but when she dropped by Jack’s
apartment, he wasn’t home. Trudy decided to cart the guitar off
anyhow. He never played it any more and besides, he might say no if
she asked him to loan it to her. He didn’t trust her so much since
all the trouble with Adam.
She’d
practice and innovate and turn herself into a brilliant performer.
And then she’d start a band. It would be the most exciting thing to
hit the town since General Sherman. Yeah, these were good thoughts.
By
day, she practiced. By night, she hung out at The Cave, playing
records or slamming on the dance floor. During breaks, she looked
for musicians in the Pink Room.
“Hey,
Maddy. I’m starting a band. Wanna join up?”
Her
roommate Madeline tossed a lock of black hair out of her eyes. “You
must be out of your mind.”
Trudy
shrugged. She asked Jeff, the David Bowie lookalike. She even asked
Johnny Fad. People laughed, blew smoke in her face. Sometimes they
just turned away as if they hadn’t heard her at all.
Why
did everyone treat her proposition like some sort of joke? She was
as serious as she’d ever been. The more she practiced, the more
she knew that her dreams lay in music. She closed her eyes and saw
herself on the stage, crooning into a mike while a huge crowd lit and
lofted their Bics in tribute.
When
people were drinking and dancing, they weren’t in the mood for
serious talk. She had to find another way to put her band together.
Trudy
made a flyer with scissors and magazines and Elmer’s glue. When
she was finally satisfied with her work, she rode her housemate’s
rickety bicycle to Kinko’s and made a hundred copies. Then she ran
around Five Points with a staple gun and plastered them to every
telephone pole in sight. When she was finished, she went back to the
apartment, picked up her guitar, and waited for the phone to ring.
“Hey,
what’s this?” Madeline barged into her room just after midnight,
smelling of booze and smoke. She waved one of Trudy’s flyers in
the air between them.
“I’m
starting a band,” Trudy said. “I told you already.”
Madeline
shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. I wish you hadn’t put our phone
number down, though. We’ll get half a million calls from creeps.”
Trudy
didn’t answer. Why was Madeline being such a bitch? She looked
really cool with her tattooed shoulder and asymmetrical haircut, but
sometimes she could be totally square.
“I’ll
get my dad to buy us an answering machine,” Trudy said. “That
way we can screen calls.”
Madeline
nodded, seemingly consoled, and wandered off to her room.
Trudy
giggled softly. Jack would never fork out cash for something like
that, but the lie had worked.
The
first call came at noon the next day.
“Hey,
I’m calling about the band,” a gravelly voice said.
“What
do you play?”
“Bass,
drums, whatever. I’m versatile. Hey, wait. You sound really
familiar. What’s your name?”
“Trudy
Sin.”
“Hey,
I know you. You’re that firestarter.” The line went dead.
Later,
Southern Bell called about an overdue phone bill. The manager at
Yesterday’s, where Madeline waited tables, called asking Madeline
to report to work early. Someone dialed a wrong number.
Where
were all the budding musicians, the soulmates in tune with her
dreams? Trudy set aside her guitar and put on some music. She threw
herself on the bed and let Patti Smith comfort her.
How
was she ever going to start a band?
Maybe
she could go solo – set up a drum machine and play the guitar
herself. She wracked her brains trying to come up with someone who’d
gotten famous without back-up. Her mind went blank.
Two
nights later, when she came home from a trip to the Quick Mart down
the street, Madeline greeted her with, “You got a phone call.
Someone wants to join your band.”
“Great.
Who?” She pictured a pale, black-haired guy in leather, a guitar
strapped across his hard-muscled body.
“I
dunno. She said she’d call back.”
She?
Well, okay. This could be good. A girl group. Yeah, that’s the
ticket. They’d be like the Supremes with instruments. The Gogo’s
with attitude. It would be a good gimmick, something to get them
started while they developed as a band.
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