Free My Year of Epic Rock by Andrea Pyros

11
    â€œNina! Nina! Over here!” I heard my name being called the second I stepped in to the cafeteria the next day. I looked over to see Tiernan, Shane, Heidi, and Madison yelling and waving at me like it was some relay race and I was the person with the baton.
    Not only could I hear them loud and clear, but so could everyone else in the building. As I walked past what felt like an endless row of tables, my head hanging low, I noticed Josh Ricci giving me one of his stupid smirks. I hate that guy. Mom always lectures, “Don’t say ‘hate,’” but you know, some people are just loathsome.
    â€œUh, hey,” I said quietly, when I got over to where Tiernan and everyone were sitting, blushing from all the attention. I’m more of a blend-in kind of girl.
    â€œWe’re talking about the talent show,” Madison said. She held up a piece of paper with a sketch on it of a big silver needle and an arm with a drop of bright red blood flying out of it. Over the picture were the words “The EpiPens” written in messy-ish lettering.
    â€œThis is if we want to make up a poster to promote us,” she continued. I forgot Madison was super artsy. Her mom, Leslie, teaches a lot of kids’ classes at our local craft store on stuff like knitting and origami. I used to beg my mom to let me take them when I was younger. I don’t really have the crafty gene though. When Leslie’s classes were over, I’d have a tiny, sloppy, off-kilter bookmark to show for my efforts and in the same time Madison would have made a cool scarf and matching gloves that had the correct number of fingers.
    â€œThat’s really impressive, Madison,” I said. It was. The needle and the arm it was jabbing were really realistic and lifelike. It was hard to believe something that gross was drawn by the girl who wears rainbow-striped toe socks and the occasional pair of overalls to school.
    I guess it’s like my grandma says, “You never know about people.”
    Madison smiled at me. “Thanks!”
    â€œIt’s not very, um, attractive, is it?” said Heidi.
    â€œRock isn’t supposed to be pretty,” said Shane, all seriously, like he was giving a lecture.
    â€œGuys, it’s all about the music,” Tiernan said, wildly waving his hands around, “AND THE MUSIC WILL BLOW THIS SCHOOL AWAY!!” The table next to us turned around in unison to stare. Heidi giggled.
    It was unbelievable how gorgeous Heidi looked when she smiled. Maybe she wasn’t pouty, just shy, because I hadn’t caught her pouting once since I’d been sitting at her table. Also, she was, honestly, about a hundred times prettier than Shelley or any other girl I knew could ever be, but she didn’t seem to care, or even realize it. Maybe all the years sitting in the wilderness of the peanut-free table warped Heidi’s sense of reality.
    â€œCan you guys come over after school tomorrow to practice?” Shane asked. “My dad said it’s fine, we can hang out in the basement. He isn’t having any bands over. I mean, other than us superstars, that is.”
    We all looked at each other.
    â€œSure,” Tiernan said.
    â€œMe too,” Heidi smiled. A world record!
    â€œI think so,” Madison said. “I have to ask my mom because I’m supposed to help her teach her after-school beading class, but I bet she won’t mind if I skip it.”
    Everyone turned to look at me.
    I’d gotten amped about the band idea last night when I was with Dad. He’d gotten more gung-ho the longer we talked, and I couldn’t stop him from going in to the garage and digging through piles of old bicycles and dingy lawn junk he’s saving for a yard sale to get my equipment. He even helped me set it up in my bedroom and listened as I played—rustily—a few songs.
    But now in the fluorescent cafeteria light of day, I was having a major internal debate: duck