CHAPTER 6

Ladies and Gentlemen…

Wolfie stood just behind Fly in the darkened doorway. She tried to make herself believe she was about to step onto a real stage in a real theater. But how could you imagine what wasn’t real? She closed her eyes.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said a booming voice, “give it up for your favorite band, Wolfie and Fly!”

How strange, thought Wolfie. The voice didn’t sound like Fly at all. She could tell he was stepping through the doorway, so she opened her eyes a little to follow.

She heard clapping.

She heard cheering.

She heard people chanting their names.

“Wolfie and Fly, Wolfie and Fly…”

Wolfie bumped into Fly. She opened her eyes all the way so she could get to her drums.

“Look!” cried Fly. “It’s a full house!”

Wolfie looked. And saw that she was on a big stage with colored spotlights shining down on them. And out front were rows and rows of…people? Yes, hundreds of them, all cheering for her and Fly. How could that be? Where were the stuffed animals? Where was her living room?

Fly stepped up to a microphone on a stand. “Hello, fans!” he shouted. The crowd roared louder. “It’s great to see you all. And now we’re going to play our latest single. Are you ready, Wolfie?”

How could she be ready? But she nodded anyway. She saw that there was a stool behind her drums and sat down. But what had happened to her drums? Where were the garbage can, the pot and the pot-lid cymbal? Here instead was a real drum kit, with a big bass drum and two smaller drums on stands and three real cymbals.

She looked over at Fly. He wasn’t holding his little plastic guitar anymore. He had an electric guitar plugged into a huge amplifier! But he didn’t look confused. He was acting as if all this was perfectly normal.

“Okay, Wolfie,” he cried. “Hit it!”

What else could Wolfie do? She raised her wooden spoons—only they had become real drumsticks—and she banged them together, one two three four! Then she hit the drums while Fly stroked a big power chord on the guitar and leaned toward the microphone.

This is my song; it isn’t yours.

I’ve made it up; my mom adores—

It!

Wolfie kept up the beat, stepping on the bass drum pedal, banging the smaller drums, making quick hits on the cymbals. Fly sang the next verses.

Here is the tune; here are the words.

My brother thinks it’s for the birds—

Blah!

It’ll make me cool, this song of mine

Because it proves I’m good at rhyme—

See?

The people in the crowd began to do the wave, standing up one after another and raising their arms in the air. Then they held up their cell phones to make hundreds of lights shining in the dark.

And now I’m out of things to say,

So I’ll sing my song in the exact same way!

They started the song from the beginning again. But this time the audience sang along, their voices filling the concert hall. It was an amazing sound.

When the fourth verse was over, Fly shouted out, “Drum solo!”

Drum solo? Wolfie had never done a drum solo in her life. She hadn’t even played drums until a half hour ago. But it seemed that when she was with Fly she could do things that she had never done before. So she took a breath and began to hit the small drums in double-time, every so often striking a cymbal or banging the bass drum. She moved from one drum to another, the sticks flying in her hands, and then came down on two cymbals with a tremendous crash.

People hooted and clapped and stamped their feet. Fly began the final verse.

But every song does need an end,

And the rules of songs I will not bend—

The end!

The electric guitar wailed one last time. Wolfie hit one last drum. The audience went wild. They cheered and whistled and waved their hands.

“We’re a hit, Wolfie, we’re a hit!” cried Fly.

“I guess we really are.”

“Come on, we have to take a bow.”

Fly urged her to stand up. And then they bowed together. “This is so great,” said Fly. “It’s too bad we don’t have another song. We could do an encore.”

At that moment a girl climbed onto the stage. She was older than them and had long hair and wore lipstick. She skipped toward Fly, bent down and kissed him on the cheek.

“Aw, gee.” Fly blushed.

“Ugh,” Wolfie said, making a face.

But the girl wasn’t the only one to come up. Wolfie saw a boy climbing onto the stage, followed by another boy and a girl. And behind them more people pushed forward.

“Ah, Fly,” said Wolfie.

“Yes?”

“Is it usual for the audience to start climbing onto the stage?”

They both stared. The crowd was moving quickly across the stage toward them. They were shouting, “Wolfie and Fly! Wolfie and Fly! We love you! We want your autograph! Wolfie and Fly!”

The people in front had almost reached them. “We’re going to be trampled by our own fans!” said Fly. “We have to get out of here! Wait, grab the instruments!”

Grab the instruments? That was easy for Fly to say. He already had the electric guitar in his hands. But how could Wolfie pick up a whole drum set? She grabbed the two smaller drums and a cymbal.

Then they ran. Off the stage, past the back curtain and down a corridor. Wolfie could see a door marked Exit. She looked back. The fans were right behind them.

“Don’t stop!” cried Fly. “Keep going!”