IN THE MORNING I still hadn’t figured out the whole Sid/Miami question. It just seemed a bit grown-up for me to be worrying about that stuff. Besides, if I told Mom, she’d think I’d been spying on Sid’s emails. She’d be okay about it, I figured, but there was a weird niggle at the back of my mind that also worried Mom would maybe think a little less of me … no matter what she said. The last thing I want to do is make her “disappointed” in me. That’s the word that always hurts most.

So I did what I always do when there’s a problem I can’t fix right away. I parked it down a quiet side street in my brain called Laters Alley. Things don’t usually stay in Laters Alley for long. It’s just somewhere I can forget about things for a while.

On the Friday before the competition, Niki had called up and told us it would be a good idea to put in a whole weekend of practice. And, even though I was supposed to be working at the cafe that Saturday and Sunday, I should try hard to get the time off.

“You’ve got to decide if you’re really going for this,” Niki had said. “There’s no time to lose.”

Miller the Killer and Jason didn’t have part-time jobs, so they had no problem. And with that Sid/Miami thing parked over in Laters Alley, I wasn’t real keen on getting over to Gudonya—even if that did mean work slowed on Dingbat Wall. Yep, I still hadn’t forgotten THE MISSION. So I called Sid and asked to have the weekend off.

“Yeah, yeah, Ray,” he said. “Okay, whatever.” Then he hung up without asking why I wanted time off. He seemed distracted. He’d called me Ray. It made me more twitchy about the Miami plane ticket. Maybe I’d have to get that problem out of Laters Alley sooner than I thought.

At practice, Niki worked us hard. We went through every song we knew. There were eight in total—four we’d written and four old Spiderzz tunes. By Sunday, we knew them all pretty well.

“One more time through ‘Everything Sucks’ and we’ll take a break,” Niki said. “Miller, watch that finish. Jason, let’s see some more frills on the solo, and, Rafe, give it plenty of ’tude on the mic, man. Don’t hold back!”

We didn’t hold back. In fact, we nailed it. Everything didn’t suck. As the last chord died away, I looked around at the rest of the band and smiled. I really thought we might have a shot at winning this KRMY thing.

To make things even better, Kasey was back from Phoenix. I caught her eye and she winked and gave me a thumbs up. I made a mental note to get our heads together to explain my big idea (not to mention getting her advice on the Sid/Miami sitch) once rehearsal finished.

“Not too bad,” Niki said, nodding. “Let’s break for ten and then we’ll run through ‘Parmesan Cheese Smells Like Baby Sick’ and ‘Fight The Stricker’. I want you to finish on ‘Fight The Stricker’, boys. Make it your big finale at the competition.”

I put down my guitar and stretched as Niki made his way over to me. “What time are we on next week?” he asked. “At the competition, I mean.”

I shrugged. “Sid hasn’t said anything about that.”

Niki frowned. “We’ll need to know to make sure we’re ready. And it’d be good to get a look at the venue. Where are we playing?”

I shrugged again.

“Don’t tell me—Sid hasn’t told you.” Niki took out his phone and checked out the KRMY website. “Says it’s at the Rio.”

The Rio used to be Hills Village’s movie theater. It closed down years ago and re-opened as a music venue.

“There you go,” I said. “We’re playing at the Rio.”

Niki gave me a hard look. “I’ll give them a call and find out the details. If there’s one thing the music biz has taught me, Khatchadorian, it’s to never take things for granted. Promoters, venues, managers, and record companies will all try to take advantage. It’s a jungle out there.”