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
At lunch on Friday I again consider my options. I look over at Cameron's table. There are ten chairs packed around it, and none of them empty. All guys, talking heatedly about something that sounds important. Cameron keeps pounding his fist on the tabletop and hissing, "Guys, come on!"
I look over at the nearly empty table where Reece is sitting. So calm. So inviting.
I plunk my lunch bag down across from Reece. "Hi."
Reece nods and pointedly turns up the volume on his phone. I can hear his music even though his headphones are clamped on his ears.
"You're going to go deaf," I tell him, knowing he can't hear me.
I'm digging into a quinoa salad when Oz slams into the seat beside me. "Why aren't you sitting with Shawna?" he asks.
"We're not exactly friends anymore." I hunch my shoulders and resist the urge to look over at her.
"Whaaaat?" Oz throws up his hands. "I was going to have a band meeting. You know, me and you, my new roadie," he slings an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. I nearly drop my fork. "And my lead singer."
"She's mad at me. I don't really know why." Was this something I should have mentioned last night?
Oz sighs. "My new band is doomed already. And I don't even have a drummer. Or a base player."
I point my fork across the table. "What about Reece?"
Reece has his eyes closed, drumming with two pencils like he always does.
"Is he a drummer for real?" Oz asks doubtfully, a twist of distaste on his lips.
"I think so. I mean, he sounds pretty good using only the table and some Tupperware containers." I watch Reece for a moment, then add, "Not sure how to get his attention. He prefers to ignore me."
Oz reaches out and slams his fist on the table. "Hey!"
Reece's eyes fly open and he looks between Oz and me a few times before pulling off his headphones. "What?" he snaps.
"Are you a drummer?" Oz asks.
"Um, obviously." Reece moves to put his headphones back on.
"You could be a professional air-drum player for all I fucking know, dude," Oz cuts back. "And if you can stop being a turd for two seconds, I wanted to ask if you were interested in being the drummer in my band."
Reece narrows his eyes. "You gotta work on your pitch."
"His drummer quit on him," I add. "It's a big opportunity if you want to play at the Montbourne Idol Concert."
"Who was your drummer?" Reece asks.
"Lock Brinkley." Oz jerks a thumb toward the band kids table.
