Fairy Metal Thunder (Songs of Magic, #1) (6 page)

“Yeah.” Jason took a bite of his soy burger
and was quiet for a minute.

“I know what you’re worried about,” Mitch
said.

“You do?”

“It’s a big audition, man. Out in the Cities
and everything.”

“Oh, yeah. About that. My parents say I’m
grounded. I’m not allowed to go anywhere for a while.”

Mitch’s mouth dropped open. “Except for the
audition, right? And if we get the gig…”

“They won’t let me go. And they say I can’t
be part of the band anymore.”

“Are you serious? We can’t blow this
audition, man. Dred was after that club owner for almost a month
just to get us a shot. What’s she going to say?”

“I know, but I can’t.”

“We can’t get a new guitarist by Thursday!”
Mitch slapped his forehead and closed his eyes. “They’d have to
learn Erin’s songs…or we’d just have to figure out some
covers…You can’t do this to us, man!”

“I’m sorry,” Jason said. “I really want to
play.”

Mitch looked him over. “You know, let me tell
you a secret, as a graduating senior to a just-finishing-up junior.
Your parents can’t
really
make you do anything. It’s like an
illusion they have over you.”

“They’d be really mad if I went.”

“And they’d get over it. You’re not doing
anything wrong, you know. We’re not going to rob a bank here. Just
play a little music.”

“Which is exactly what they told me to quit
doing,” Jason said. “I’m supposed to get a job…”

“That’s perfect!” Mitch said. “Get a job,
make a little money…plus, you can pretend you’re going to work
whenever you want to get out for a while. Having a job makes you
groundproof.”

“Should I pretend I’m going back to work on
Thursday?” Jason asked. “I can tell my dad I got my old job at the
car wash again. Then I could get away for that audition.”

“Now you’re thinking, man!” Mitch said. “He
wants you to go to work, so that’s what you tell him. And it’s not
totally
a lie. I mean, we’re trying to get a job. A Friday
night gig at The Patch, in the warehouse district? That’s big. We
could make a hundred bucks each.”

“I don’t know. I really don’t like
lying.”

Mitch glanced at Erin across the courtyard.
“Look, man, what would Mick Jagger do?”

“Mick Jagger?”

“Do you think he’d let his parents keep him
away from a gig?”

“He’s like seventy years old,” Jason
said.

“You’re missing the point. Rock stars don’t
ditch out on gigs because they’re grounded. You know what I
mean?”

“Not even Justin Bieber?”

“Shut up about Justin Bieber. This is about
what you need to do, Jason.”

Jason looked over at Erin.

“You don’t want to disappoint her, do you?”
Mitch asked.

“What do you mean?” Jason asked.

“You know what I mean.”

Jason felt embarrassed. “Okay. But I can’t
make rehearsal all week. Just the audition.”

“That’s cool, man. Just keep practicing the
songs at home.”

“I’ll practice.” The bell rang and Jason
stood up, feeling very nervous. He could get in a lot more trouble.
He looked at Erin, and this time she saw him. She waved and smiled
at Jason and Mitch.

“Get ready to play your best on Thursday,”
Mitch said. He punched Jason’s shoulder. “Now you’re acting like a
rock star, Jayce!”

Jason rolled his eyes.

When school let out Thursday, Jason caught a
ride with Dred from school, which meant riding around while she
dropped off a couple of other girls that she always took home. He
stashed his bike in the cargo area behind the back seats. When they
reached Mitch’s house, Jason parked the bike in Mitch’s garage to
make room for Dred’s drum kit and Mitch’s collection of keyboards
and synthesizers.

Jason helped Mitch and Dred load the back of
the van. He was doubly worried today. He’d told his dad it was his
first day back at the car wash, and he’d been so busy wondering if
he’d get caught by his parents that he’d almost forgotten to be
nervous about the audition itself. Packing up the van, he started
to think about playing in front of actual big-city club owners, and
he felt a little cold and shaky.

Erin’s boyfriend Zach dropped her off, and
Jason looked away fast when she kissed him good-bye. Jason didn’t
need to feel jealous and sad, on top of everything else.

“Are we ready?” Erin asked as she joined them
in the garage.

“All packed up.” Dred tossed her keys in the
air and caught them. “Let’s go blow some minds.”

As they drove out of Chippewa along Highway
29 to Minneapolis, Erin looked more cheerful than Jason had ever
seen her.

“So where are you guys going to live when
we’re big stars?” Erin asked. “Dred?”

“I think Oregon,” Dred said. “Seems like a
cool place. You can live near those giant redwoods where they put
the Ewok village.”

“Mitch?” Erin asked.

“
Mick
. And I’m thinking Malibu.
Swimming pools, movie stars…”

“Yeah,” Dred snorted. “You only want to live
there so you’ll be close to Claudia Lafayette.”

“I happen to think she’s a great vocalist who
does some amazing, experimental things with her melodies.”

“I guess ten million middle school girls
can’t be wrong,” Dred said.

“All kinds of people listen to Claudia
Lafayette!” Mitch said.

“All kinds of female people between the ages
of ten and fourteen,” Dred said.

“What about you, Jason?” Erin asked.

“I don’t really listen to Claudia Lafayette,
or Britney Spears, or anybody like that. I like classic rock, old
blues…” Jason said.

“I mean, where would you live if you were a
rock star?”

“Oh!” Jason thought about it. “I think an
island. Out in the Caribbean, maybe.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Erin said. “But I think
I’d want to live in New York, or London, someplace where
everything’s happening, and you can do anything you want.”

“I could try that for a while,” Jason
said.

Erin smiled and blew a quick, bright tune on
her harmonica. “Who wants to warm up?”

“My stuff’s all packed up,” Mitch said.

“I think I can play.” Jason took the guitar
from its case. He wished he’d brought the fairy instruments now, so
they could at least check them out on the long ride to the Cities.
He could have come up with some story about where they came from.
Too late now.

Erin played a blues riff, and Jason followed
her with his guitar. She improvised a song, continuing the harmonic
part between the lines:

Jason likes the blues,

(wah-waah, wah-wah)

Mitch hates the news

(wah-waah, wah-wah)

“It’s
Mick
,” Mitch said. “But that’s
accurate, you know. I think it’s pointless to get your news from
the television, or even establishment newspapers—”

Erin sang and played:

(wah-waah, wah-wah
)

Dred drives the car

(wah-waah, wah-wah)

Gonna take us far

(wah-waah, wah-wah)

“Yeah, where would this band be without my
van?” Dred asked.

Erin sang:

Without the van,

(wah-waah, wah-wah)

There is no band
.

Erin played out a long phrase on her
harmonica, while Dred snickered.

Jason and Erin played most of the way,
occasionally getting into one of the band’s actual songs, but Erin
kept improvising new lyrics. She had a radiant smile today.

The Patch was located in the old warehouse
district in Minneapolis, near a number of larger, more popular
clubs. The club occupied one sliver of the bottom floor of a
refurbished brick building, where the ghosts of the words “Great
Northern Railway” were visible across the second story.

They arrived with about fifteen minutes to
spare. It was still daylight—the club itself wouldn’t open for
several more hours.

The four of them walked to the front door.
Jason wanted to knock, since the place was obviously closed, but
Dred pushed open the heavy black door and walked inside like it was
her own house.

“Hey, anybody here?” Dred shouted into the
darkness.

Mitch looked at Jason and Erin, then shrugged
and followed Dred inside. Jason and Erin shared a nervous smile
before following.

The interior of the club was small and dark,
with an eight-seat bar along one wall, scattered tables and a few
booths at the back. The stage was tucked into one corner, and
looked barely big enough to hold a two-piece band.

“We’re closed,” said a young woman who
emerged from the door at the back. She was dressed in black leather
pants and a high-collared white shirt.

“We’re the Assorted Zebras,” Dred said.
“We’re supposed to have an audition today.”

“Oh, you’re the one who keeps calling?” The
woman turned her head and shouted at the open door from which she’s
emerged. “Hey, Freddy! Those pushy hick kids are here with their
band!”

The man who came out next was hugely obese,
wearing a bright flowered shirt and a green pork-pie hat. He stood
next to the young woman and folded his arms while he looked over
the four of them.

“Who’s the one that keeps calling?” Freddy
asked.

“That’d be me.” Dred raised her hand.

“Well, stop calling. Lissa here is my
entertainment director,” he said, and the young woman smiled.
“She’s also my bar manager,” he added, and the woman’s smile
faltered. “Anyway, this is your one chance to convince us that
you’re good enough to play The Patch. Go set yourselves up, and
don’t make too much noise doing it.” He waved at the tiny
stage.

“Thank you!” Mitch said. “We really
appreciate this opportunity—”

“Don’t talk to me until you’re ready to
play,” Freddy said.

They carried the equipment and quickly set it
up, plugging into the club’s sound system. Freddy and Lissa sat in
a booth at the back of the club, going over a stack of
paperwork.

When they were set up, Erin spoke into the
microphone: “Are you ready?”

Freddy the club owner waved a pudgy arm
without looking at them. He was still in conversation with Lissa,
ignoring the band.

“Okay,” Erin said. “This first one’s called
‘Nuclear Morning.’”

Dred counted off the beat, and then Jason and
Mitch joined in.

Erin sang:

I woke up on nuclear morning,

Last night they gave the last warning,

Nothing left but crying and mourning,

All alone on nuclear morning…

They played three songs straight through, and
neither of the two people in the booth looked up at them the entire
time.

“Okay,” Erin said, “This next one is called
‘Remember’—”

“Wait, wait.” Freddy pushed himself to his
feet and waddled toward the stage. “Look, you seem like nice kids.
You’ve got some talent.” He looked right at Erin. “Maybe a lot of
talent. But you’re too green and raw. You don’t have your sound
together. I’d say give it another year of practice before you’re
ready to play live shows.”

“A
year
?” Erin asked.

“Nobody gets successful overnight,” Freddy
said. “You’re young. You have plenty of time to practice. Don’t
take it personally. Now get your junk off my stage.”

Mitch frowned. Erin’s face scrunched up for a
second as if she were going to cry, but she fought it down and made
it into a hard glare instead. The band members looked at each
other. It was one more failed audition.

Freddy started chatting with Lissa again.
After a second, he looked up and said, “Get going! We have a
business to run here.”

The four of them packed up their gear and
carried it out to the van, speaking very little. On the drive home,
the mood was quiet and somber.

“We’ll get the next one,” Mitch said as they
drove out of the city.

Nobody replied.

Back in Chippewa, Dred dropped Erin off at
home. When the rest of them arrived at Mitch’s, it was close to
eight o’ clock. Jason got his bike and his backpack from the
garage.

He said good-bye and pedaled home.

His dad was waiting at the kitchen table,
reading his paper. Jason heard his mom and Katie upstairs, doing
something in Katie’s room. Maybe cleaning up—Katie could turn any
room into a wreck in a matter of minutes.

Jason poured himself a glass of milk.

“How was your first day back at work?” his
dad asked, without looking up from the paper.

“Oh,” Jason said. “Fine. Pretty good. I’m
pretty tired now.”

“Wash a lot of cars?”

“Yep.”

His dad looked up. “You didn’t wash
mine.”

“Oh…did you want me to?”

“I did. That’s why I took it over to Manny’s
Car Wash this afternoon, about five-thirty. Guess who wasn’t
working there?”

Jason looked down at his shoelaces.

“In fact,” his dad continued, “I talked to
Manny, and he said you never even asked for your job back. Says he
hasn’t heard from you in a few months. Now how is that
possible?”

Jason sighed. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Where were you?”

“We had that audition today.”

“You were with those kids? In
Minneapolis?”

“It didn’t go well.”

“I don’t care how it went. I told you no more
band. And now you’re going all the way to the Cities and back, with
a teenage driver, and not telling anybody where you went?”

“It was a bad day,” Jason said. “If that
makes you feel better.”

“It’s not about how I feel, Jason. It’s the
way you’ve been acting. Disappearing all night? Lying to your
mother and me? This isn’t like you, Jason. What’s going on with
you?”

Jason shrugged. “I just like being in the
band.”

“You’re getting irresponsible,” his dad said.
“You’re going to be a senior next year. You need to start acting
like an adult. Set a good example for your sister.”