Free My Year of Epic Rock by Andrea Pyros Page B

Shane’s dad pointed to his left. “Then down to our basement. Shane and your other friends are all downstairs already.”
    â€œCall me when you want me to pick you up!” Dad yelled as I walked off, then I heard him say, “So Nina says you just moved to the area.”
    Sigh. I hoped he wasn’t going to try to talk to Shane’s dad about his job, or please, please, no, invite him to one of Thin Vitae’s shows.
    I sped up, waving good-bye behind me without turning around, and followed the directions Shane’s dad gave me. The room I walked through had wood floors and huge windows that went from the very top of the high ceiling almost to the very bottom of the wall. It was bright even with no lights turned on.
    â€œShane?” I yelled when I got to an open door.
    â€œHere!” he called back.
    I walked down super-thick carpeted stairs. On the walls were framed photos of record albums I’d never heard of with little black and white signs on them. Thomas McCormick’s name was on all of them too. He seemed like a big deal, just like Dad had said.
    Everyone else was already there. Tiernan, guitar strapped over his white turtleneck sweater; Madison, holding her flute and frowning; Heidi, sitting on the floor, her legs crossed, biting her fingernails; Shane, fiddling around with the knobs on a speaker. I sat down next to Heidi.
    â€œHow’s it going?” I whispered to her.
    â€œFine. Except Madison’s mad because Shane made fun of her idea of a flute solo.”
    â€œBands don’t do flute solos !” Shane said to Heidi while giving Madison a grumpy look.
    â€œWhy not? You can make any instrument sound rocky,” Madison said back to him.
    â€œ Rock-y? Whatever.” Shane turned to me. “Hey, Nina. Come check out the drum kit. It’s my Dad’s spare one.”
    I went over and sat down at the drums, picking up a pair of drumsticks on the floor. The drum heads were brand-new, and when I tried them out, the sound was crisp and sharp. I got excited in spite of myself.
    â€œHey, this is a great set, Shane!” I said. He gave me the Shane head nod in reply.
    â€œMaybe we should practice something we all know, to get warmed up,” Madison suggested.
    â€œLike what?” Tiernan said. “We sang ‘This Land Is Your Land’ last year in music until it was coming out of our noses. Maybe that?”
    â€œUh, no,” said Shane, shaking his head. “Pass. And never speak of that song in my presence again.”
    â€œâ€˜Smells Like Teen Spirit’?” said Madison. “I definitely know my way around that one.”
    â€œâ€˜When Doves Cry’?” I suggested. “‘Rock Lobster’?” Madison looked at me like she had no idea what I was talking about.
    â€œâ€˜Twist and Shout’?” said Heidi.
    â€œGood one,” said Tiernan. “A classic.” We all nodded. And stood there. None of us did anything.
    â€œNina—count it off,” Shane said.
    â€œOh, yeah, right,” I said, half laughing, lifting up my sticks over my head. “I forgot about that. Okay, everybody.”
    Click-click-click-click.
    I’d had the fantasy in my head of us being incredible, of playing together as one from the get-go. Dad talks about bands that together were greater than any one of the individual members, who sounded destined to play only with each other.
    The reality was nowhere close. We were…horrible. Ear-bruising. The only one of us who didn’t sound flat-out crazy bad was Heidi, who managed, against impossible odds, to actually keep a tune. Sort of.
    â€œHold it!” yelled Madison after about a minute. “Hold on!”
    We all stopped. I could hardly have been the only person there grateful that she put an end to our misery.
    â€œGuys, that sucked!”
    â€œWe just started, Madison, calm down,” said Shane, looking annoyed. “You can’t