Battle of the Bands by Lesley Choyce Page B

yet.
    â€œWhere are you?” The shrill demand comes from Amy. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the store can hear her screeching over the phone.
    â€œDown at the music store. With Jay.”
    â€œWhat? I thought you were coming over to see me! You promised, Kel.”
    â€œI did?” says Kel. He sounds truly surprised. He probably did agree to be there when Amy asked him over, but I know he tunes her out and just says yeah, yeah, yeah while she goes off. Can’t say I blame him.
    Still, it’s not my problem. I leave Kel stuttering into his phone and head over to the amps. I could use a new amp. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with the one I’ve got, but I’d love to have one that puts out more distortion. Some of the tube amps are fantastic for producing some really wild stuff. I figure we could use some wild.
    I’m studying the specs on a very fine, very expensive amp when I become aware of someone else across the aisle doing the same thing. Usually I wouldn’t notice the other dreamers, but it’s like some kind of crazy feedback loop starts a reverb in my gut, and I look up and there she is. Smooth pale skin. Silky black hair. Long legs in tight black jeans. Her.
    I don’t know her, not really, but I do know this. Her name is Rowan, and she plays lead guitar in a band that’s beat us in every battle outside the school. Her band is Indigo Daze and they are good. Really good. And she’s really hot.
    Rowan must feel me looking because her head snaps up and she nails me with a clear blue stare. A flicker of recognition dances across her face and she smiles, this tiny lift of the lips that makes me wonder. Is she mocking me? I can’t tell, and that makes me mad. Or nervous. Or something. My first impulse is to smile back, but then I just drop my eyes and turn away like nothing happened.
    And the moment’s gone because here’s Kel saying, “Hey, man, I’ve gotta go.”

Chapter Three
    When you’re experience deprived, you should do something about it, right? Especially if you happen to be a creative type, like me. I’ve tried a couple of the obvious things other kids around here do when they want some excitement. Drinking, smoking weed. Remember that “attitude problem” back in grade ten and the five dollars on the fridge? Let’s just say I never got too far with the obviousstuff. Not only did it get me grounded for a month, but it didn’t give me anything unique or real. It just got me sick or high, like everyone else.
    Maybe I wouldn’t feel like I need to live more if it weren’t for Kel and Cia depending on me. When we first got together and formed the band, I came up with some good lyrics for a song, and ever since they’ve expected more. I have to admit it feels good to have their admiration, but that’s also a lot of pressure.
    So here’s what I do. On the night of the full moon, I go looking for life. I know that sounds lame, but I’ve heard that people get crazier when the moon is full, so chances of finding something cool must be good. Plus I needed something that would keep me on a routine. The moon is on a routine, right? It fit. Nobody knows I do this, nobody. I tell my folks I’m spending the night at Kel’s, and Kel covers for me and that’s it. Kel has asked what I’m up to, but I just shake my head and say, “It’s about the art, okay?” Thatalways shuts him up. He just doesn’t know what to say.
    Okay, he does look at me like I’m the Precision Fender and says, “Solid, man.”
    The first time, I spent the night in a graveyard. It was freaky, but I got a decent song out of it. It’s called “You’re Dead,” and it goes like this:
    Rotten bones
    Cold in the dirt
    Your face has gone away.
    And if I try
    I might see you
    Too bad there’s only one way.
    You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re