Um, did I say we blew the lid off the garage?
Someone knocked on the door between the kitchen and the garage. A second later, Rafe’s messy-haired head was poking into my band’s space.
“Get out,” I said. It’s a reflex.
Rafe ignored me (also a reflex). “Can I listen to you guys practice?”
“No!” I shouted, but Mari had already said, “Sure, Rafe,” and Patti added, “Come on in!” So the next thing I knew, my brother was propped on a folding chair right next to the rack where we keep the extra paper towels and toilet paper. He smiled at me. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“It’s really cool that you guys have started a band,” Rafe said. He looked at me. “I didn’t know you could play guitar.”
“We wouldn’t have a band without Georgia,” Mari said.
“Really?” Rafe smirked in my direction. He tipped back in his chair, and I wished that it would fall over backward, dumping him onto the floor. “So, what kind of music do you play?” he asked.
“Loud,” Nanci told him.
My brother grinned. “My favorite!”
Mari, Nanci, and Patti cracked up. They’re really friendly, which is a pain sometimes. Like when they’re being nice to my brother.
“One!” Mari called. “Two! One-two-three-four!”
We launched into our theme song again. I added a little guitar solo in the middle, but it wasn’t really on purpose. My fingers just got stuck in the strings. Hey, give me a break—I’ve never had a single lesson, okay? I’ve been teaching myself by watching music videos. I can jump, twirl, even crawl on my knees while playing. I just can’t really make the notes come out right.
When we finished our song, Nanci twirled a lock of blue hair nervously. She has black hair with turquoise streaks and likes to wear torn jeans, combat boots, and T-shirts with cartoon superheroes on them. “So—what did you think?” she asked my brother.
Luckily, Rafe didn’t have a chance to answer, because just then Grandma Dotty stuck her head through the door. “Did anyone else hear some awful crashing and wailing just a minute ago?” she asked. “Like part of the roof caved in on a howler monkey? Or a truck full of cats tipped over?”
“Um, no,” I said.
“I’d better call the ASPCA,” she said, and shut the door with a slam.
“Were we that bad?” Mari asked. She was looking at Rafe, as if his opinion counted for anything.
“No.” Rafe shook his head.
“Oh, good.” Nanci looked relieved.
“You were way worse,” Rafe added. The band looked horrified. “You guys should change your name to We Stink.”
I was afraid my friends might actually walk out the garage door and never come back. “YOU stink!” I shot back. “I can smell you from over here.”
“That’s your breath,” Rafe said.
I couldn’t think of a good reply, so I grabbed a roll of toilet paper and threw it at his head. Laughing, Rafe dodged and scooted through the door.
“Do we really stink?” Mari asked.
“Rafe would’ve said that no matter how good we sounded,” I pointed out.
“But we do need more practice,” Nanci admitted.
“Then let’s do it!” Mari agreed.
“Rock on!” Patti cheered.
I wasn’t so sure. But we launched back into our theme song, and this time it was even better than before. Now if I could just nail that guitar solo…
