Two high school misfits who hate each other. One music competition where they have to work together. Can their love of classic 80s rock unite them?
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High...
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Side A: Mitzi
On the morning of the sleepover, I wake up in a cold sweat. Tonight is going to be a disaster.
"Mitzi, do you want to go into town for breakfast?" Mom calls through the door. She's already tried to wake me up twice. "We can go to the grocery store after and get some snacks for your sleepover."
"I'm not feeling so hot," I call back, and before I can think about possibly parlaying this one statement into a full-on illness that would require a cancellation of the sleepover, Mom has entered my room.
"Are you sick?" she asks.
I throw one arm over my eye. "Mo-om."
"Let me take your temperature, at least."
"I'm fine." The words pop out, and now that hope of an excuse flies out the window. "I just didn't sleep well."
"Ah, too excited about tonight, I bet." Mom stands up and straightens out my comforter even though I'm still in bed. "I'll let you rest up. I know it's going to be a late night for you. I remember when I had sleepovers, we always stayed up half the night!"
I wouldn't know, since my last sleepover was when I was, like, eight. "Yeah. I just need a couple more hours." Especially if we're going to be sneaking out to some awful party for half the night. The thought of it has me burying my face back in the pillow.
"Of course! All teenagers like to sleep in, it's a developmental thing." Mom heads out of the room. "Your dad and I will have a little breakfast date then."
I grumble something in response. It's like she's happy that I'm doing this developmentally normal sleeping late thing. It makes me wonder why she wakes me up so early all the time, then. And how chipper will she be about me doing the developmentally normal thing where teenagers rebel and sneak out of their houses in the middle of the night to go to a party and get drunk? I groan and roll over. But my eyes pop back open. Between this and how awkward it's been with Cameron all week, I know I'm not going to be able to go back to sleep.
After the garage door rumbles closed and I can't hear any cars on the street, I get up and throw on some clothes, then head out to my workshop.
My new project is a bike that I found abandoned down the street. The back tire was flat, and the rim bent. It'll look pretty awesome once I get the rust off the chain and paint it. There's an even more exciting project for me, though: the snowblower.
Dad had trouble getting it started when it snowed on Tuesday night. It didn't snow enough for school to get canceled or even delayed—apparently up here it takes a major blizzard for that. Everyone seems to have four-wheel-drive and chains on their tires and plows on the front of their vehicles. Dad decided to use the snowblower instead of shoveling the three or four inches. He did eventually get it running, but there was a whole lotta cursing out there in the garage until he did.
