It was hard to tell which of the teenagers in the garage was Jake the Teenager. They were all big, they were all wearing sunglasses, and they were all yelling and kicking each other. They were a band. The name of their band was Ball Control.
Pretty stupid name, Ivy and Bean thought.
“I think Jake’s the one in the red shirt,” said Bean. The one in the red shirt was telling everyone else to be quiet, only he didn’t say be quiet. He said something else. A lot.
Finally, the other teenagers stopped kicking each other and yelling. Jake the Teenager stood in front of a microphone. “Ah-one, ah-two, ah-three, ah-four!” he said, and then he began to scream.
All the other teenagers began to scream, too. They pounded on their instruments and screamed and screamed.
It was the loudest thing in the world.
Ivy and Bean plugged their ears. They scrunched their eyes. They hunched their shoulders. No matter what they did, it was still the loudest thing in the world.
Then it stopped.
Slowly, Bean unplugged her ears. She unscrunched her eyes. Then she unhunched her shoulders.
Oops. Jake the Teenager was standing on the other side of the window, looking at them.
“Hi,” said Bean.
“Hi,” he said. After a second, he asked, “What are you doing?”
Bean thought fast. “Listening to your cool band!” she said enthusiastically.
Jake the Teenager took his sunglasses off. “Not bad, huh?” he said.
“Totally!” said Bean.
He nodded. He seemed to be waiting for more.
“Totally awesome!” said Bean.
“But you were plugging your ears,” he said.
“It was loud, but it was great,” Bean explained.
“What was the name of that great song?” asked Ivy.
“They liked it!” Jake the Teenager yelled over his shoulder. “That one was ‘Lizard Hurricane.’”
“Oh boy, we sure liked that song,” Bean said. She shook her head as if she were amazed at how much she liked the song.
“Wanna hear the rest?” asked Jake. “We got six songs.”
“We would for sure, except we’re working,” said Bean. “We’re writing a newspaper about Pancake Court.”
“Dude!” said Jake the Teenager. “Write about our band! Write, like, a music review, you know, about how awesome we are!”
“Sure,” said Ivy. “No problem.”
“Sure,” repeated Bean.
“The next one’s called ‘Nebulizer,’” he said. “You’re gonna love it.”
“We have to get writing,” said Ivy.
“Deadlines,” said Bean, trying to look like she wished she could hear his song. “Got to go!”
“Say we’ll play for parties,” he yelled after them as they went down the driveway.
“Dude! Trust me!” said Bean, waving.
“Wow, you can really talk teenager,” said Ivy.
“Anyone can do it,” said Bean modestly. “You just have to practice.”
It was getting late. “We’d better go to your house and get started,” Ivy said to Bean. She thought for a moment. “You don’t think your dad ate the cheese, do you?”
Bean shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that.” She looked worried. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“Grown-ups like cheese,” Ivy said.
“We’d better work fast.”
