Free Allegra by Shelley Hrdlitschka

acts like he doesn’t get what the fuss is all about. He cracks open a can of soda and takes a long swig. He glances around the room, spots Mom, then quickly turns back to Spencer.
    â€œI think my favorite album is Room to Move ,” Spencer continues. “You really explored some new stuff on that one.”
    â€œInteresting that you say that,” Dad answers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think it’s my favorite too. It was the first time the guys let me experiment a little.”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œYeah.” He nods and elbows Steve, who has moved over to join the conversation. “Before that, they thought I was just a bass player. I finally got up the nerve to show them I could play a few other instruments—and write too,” he adds.
    â€œCool,” Spencer says.
    â€œAnd that’s how it got its title, that album; they finally gave me room to move.”
    I can see that Spencer is trying to act nonchalant, as if talking to one of his favorite musicians and getting the scoop behind the album is something he does every day, but his posture is a dead giveaway. His arms are crossed tightly across his chest, and he’s rocking back and forth.
    I exchange a look with Talia, and we smile. I feel myself relax. Sophie and Molly begin chatting about something else, their voices high-pitched. Eventually the other band members begin to arrive. I introduce everyone. The men act as shy as my friends do. Without their music and instruments to hide behind, they’re just regular guys. I think people forget that.
    Mom starts handing out bowls, and everyone eventually helps themselves to the food. The girls and three of the band members sit around the table and talk while they eat. I lean against the counter and eat chili with my dad, Spencer, Steve and Randal, the drummer. Mom stands slightly apart from us and simply listens.
    â€œSpencer has an autograph collection, all musicians,” I tell Dad.
    â€œReally,” Dad says, tilting his head.
    Spencer nods. “I’m up to two hundred now.”
    â€œThat’s great,” Steve says. “Would you like to make it two-oh-five? I can give you signed head shots of each of these guys.”
    â€œMaybe we’re not famous enough for his collection,” Dad teases.
    â€œAre you kidding? That would be awesome! Thanks,” Spencer says.
    I glance at Mom and wonder if this is the moment to remind them that she, too, is a musician, but I decide against it.
    After everyone has had a second bowl of chili and the platter of veggies is emptied, Dad asks, “Well, Legs? Is it time?”
    â€œLegs?” Spencer looks at me, puzzled.
    I shake my head and roll my eyes. “That’s what he calls me.” I frown at my dad, who just laughs.
    Spencer laughs too. “Because you’re a dancer, and your legs are so long?”
    â€œNo! It’s short for Allegra. A- lleg —gra.” I sound the word out slowly, embarrassed by his interpretation. “He started calling me that long before I started dancing.”
    â€œOr grew the long legs,” my dad adds. “C’mon, everyone, time to get started.” He leads the way to the studio.
    Spencer follows me down the stairs. He pokes me in the back. “Legs. I like it,” he says.
    I just shake my head again.
    Talia and the girls squish together on the couch, and I prop myself on its wide arm. Spencer sits on the floor, leaning against a wall.
    The band members consult with Dad and decide to warm up with some of their oldies. “Any requests?” Dad asks Spencer.
    â€œâ€˜It’s a Day For Dancing,’” he says, without hesitation.
    Dad smiles, switches guitars and counts off the beat. In a united motion, each musician plays the opening chord, the drummer hits the drums, and the rehearsal begins.
    Spencer’s face breaks into a huge grin. His foot taps along, and when the band gets to the chorus, I