Band on the Run
Page 1
Text copyright © 2018 by Cary Fagan
Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Zoe Si
Tundra Books, an imprint of Penguin Random House Canada Young Readers, a Penguin Random House Company
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher—or, in case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a licence from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency—is an infringement of the copyright law.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Fagan, Cary, author
Wolfie and Fly : band on the run / Cary Fagan; illustrated by Zoe Si.
(Wolfie and Fly; 2)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 9781101918234- (hardcover).—ISBN 9781101918241
(EPUB)
I. Si, Zoe, illustrator II. Title. III. Title: Band on the run.
PS8561.A375W653 2018 jC813’.54 C2017-902658-5
C2017-902659-3
Published simultaneously in the United States of America by Tundra Books of Northern New York, an imprint of Penguin Random House Canada Young Readers, a Penguin Random House Company
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017939377
Edited by Samantha Swenson
Cover Designed by Rachel Cooper
The artwork in this book was rendered in ink and watercolor.
www.penguinrandomhouse.ca
v5.1
a
To Marie Campbell
—Cary Fagan
For A & C, our little rock stars
—Zoe Si
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1: Sleeping Wolf
Chapter 2: A Little Favor
Chapter 3: Clang Thump Ting Thump
Chapter 4: Pointy Hats
Chapter 5: Stuffing
Chapter 6: Ladies and Gentlemen…
Chapter 7: Up, Up and Away
Chapter 8: The Show
Chapter 9: Celebration
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER 1
Sleeping Wolf
“I just think it would be a nice thing,” said Wolfie’s mom.
“I do too,” said Wolfie’s dad. “The school talent show is a real tradition. Performing in it will get you out of your shell.”
“I like being in my shell,” said Wolfie.
“Besides, I don’t know how to do anything, and the show is tonight.”
It was Saturday morning. Wolfie was sitting at the kitchen table reading a book about helicopters. She found helicopters very interesting. They needed two rotor blades: a big one on top to give it lift and a little one on the tail to prevent it from spinning around in a circle.
“That’s right,” said her mom. “You don’t do anything. But you should. That’s why we want you to go to the dance class at school this morning. You might enjoy it. And then you can be part of the dance at the talent show.”
“No, thank you.” She turned the page.
“Just give it a try,” pleaded her dad. “You don’t take any extra classes. You’ve already dropped out of singing, pottery, karate, drama and yoga for kids.”
Wolfie looked up. “I believe that is called a pattern, Dad. The pattern shows that I don’t like taking classes.”
“Well, it’s a bad pattern,” said her mom. “You’re missing out on too much. And we’ve been too easy on you. So you’re going to dance class this morning, and that’s the end of the discussion.”
Wolfie stood against the wall of the school gymnasium. Ms. Stuckley, the gym teacher, was also the dance teacher. She asked everyone to warm up, and boys and girls began swooshing their arms through the air or spinning in circles or skipping across the floor.
The boys wore gym shorts. The girls wore leotards. Some had on frilly tutus. Most of them were pink. Wolfie hated pink. She was wearing her usual outfit—a white T-shirt, overalls and sneakers.
Ms. Stuckley clapped her hands. “All right, everyone, listen up. This is the last rehearsal before the talent show this evening. But if you haven’t come to class before, you can still be in the chorus. The steps are easy.”
Just then the gym door flew open and a boy tumbled through. He got up and smiled. Oh no, thought Wolfie, it’s Livingston Flott!
Livingston was Wolfie’s next-door neighbor. He always called her Wolfie, although her real name was Renata Wolfman. And he wanted her to call him Fly.
Fly was such a nuisance. He always wanted to come over to play. He couldn’t understand that Wolfie wasn’t interested in playing with other kids. She liked being alone and didn’t want any friends. Besides, playing was for babies. Wolfie was interested in grown-up things like science. Sure, there was that one time when Fly came over and they had built a submarine together and strange things had happened. But she had managed to avoid him ever since.
“Hi, Ms. Stuckley,” Fly said. “Sorry I’m late. That sure is a nice hairstyle you have today. Did I miss anything?”
“Not to worry. We’re just about to start our last warm-up exercise before the rehearsal. Listen up, everyone. I want each of you to think of an animal that you would like to be. And when I clap my hands, I want you to move around the room like your animal. Does everyone have an animal in mind?”
“I do, I do!” cried Fly. All the other kids nodded their heads. Ms. Stuckley clapped her hands.
A girl got down on all fours and stretched her back like a cat.
A boy began to hop like a bunny.
Another girl galloped like a horse.
Fly began to zip around the room, flapping his wings and buzzing. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was.
And Wolfie? She pondered a moment and then lay down on the gym floor and stayed still.
Ms. Stuckley came over and looked down at her. “What sort of animal are you?” she asked.
“I’m a wolf.”
“Really?” said Ms. Stuckley. “But you’re not moving.”
“I’m a sleeping wolf.”
“Will you be getting up soon?”
“Wolves can sleep for ten hours,” said Wolfie.
CHAPTER 2
A Little Favor
“Seriously?” said Wolfie’s mom when they got home again. “Lying on the floor for half an hour? Without moving?”
“It really wasn’t funny, Miss Smarty-Pants,” said her dad.
“Pants can’t be smart. And I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
Her parents looked at each other. “Okay,” said her mom. “Maybe dance isn’t for you. But I still think it would be good for you to be in the talent show. You don’t participate enough.”
“To participate or not to participate, that is the question,” said Wolfie, looking at her book on helicopters. There was a fascinating picture of a helicopter cockpit. The pilot had to be well trained and alert at every moment. She tried to imagine that the kitchen chair was a helicopter pilot’s seat. She would have one control lever on her left side and another between her knees for her right hand to operate. Also a pedal for each foot.
“I’ll make you a grilled cheese sandwich,” said her dad. “And then we’re all going to Uncle Bob’s house.”
“What for?”
“Because he’s having an art show,” said her mom. “After your uncle retired from his job at the Perfecto Toaster Company, he got bored. So he started painting pictures.”
“What does he paint pictures of?” Wolfie asked.
“Toasters,” said her dad.
“That does sound thrilling,” Wolfie said. “But I’d rather sta
y home. I’ve got an idea. You let me stay and I’ll spend at least five minutes trying to come up with something for the talent show.”
“How about ten minutes?” said her mom.
“Deal.”
Wolfie ate her sandwich, careful to leave the crusts. Then she waited for her parents to go to Uncle Bob’s. She couldn’t understand why adults took so long to go anywhere. They were always deciding at the last minute to change their shirts or shoes, or else they couldn’t find their wallets or keys. But at last her parents went to the front door.
“Don’t touch the stove!” said her mom. “Don’t let in any strangers. We miss you already!”
They closed the door. Hurray! At last Wolfie had the house to herself. There was nothing she liked better than being alone. Now she could read her book in peace.
Ding-dong!
Who could be at the door? She decided to ignore it.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong…
“Stop ringing the bell!” she shouted through the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Livingston Flott!” came the answer. “Your friend! Fly!”
“You’re not my friend.”
“Oh, right. But let me in anyway.”
“I’m not allowed to let in strangers.”
“But I’m not a stranger!”
“No, but you are strange.”
“Let me in. Pretty please?”
“Go away, Fly!”
Wolfie held her breath. But the doorbell didn’t ring again. Fly didn’t call out. Had he really gone home? Maybe she would get some peace and quiet after all.
She heard a clattering sound.
Wolfie turned around just in time to see Fly climbing in through the open living room window. On his back he had his plastic guitar. He got his other foot over the windowsill and fell onto the floor.
“Whoa! That last step is a doozy.”
“You weren’t invited in,” Wolfie said.
“Your mom told me I could come over any time.” Fly brushed himself off. “Besides, I need your help.”
“For what?”
“For the school talent show.”
“I thought you were going to be in the dance performance.”
“Nah. I couldn’t get the steps. Ms. Stuckley said it didn’t matter, I could do my own steps or I could be a tree. But then I thought that I should do what I’m really good at. You know what that is.”
“Talking?” said Wolfie. “Inviting yourself in? Falling through open windows?”
“No. Making up songs! You’ve heard me do it already.”
“I’ve definitely heard you. But if you’re going to sing at the talent show, you don’t need me.”
“I need your advice. You see, I have this new song I just wrote. And it’s a super-duper song. Maybe one of the greatest songs of all time. But when I sing it, something’s not right. I can’t figure out what it is. So I want you to listen and tell me.”
Wolfie scratched her head. “And that’s all you want?”
“Yup.”
“All right. If it doesn’t take too long.” She sat down on the arm of the sofa. “Go ahead and sing.”
CHAPTER 3
Clang Thump Ting Thump
Fly stepped into the center of the room. He moved his plastic guitar from back to front. He plucked the four strings to see if they were in tune. He cleared his throat.
“Well?” said Wolfie.
“You can’t rush an artist.” He straightened up, strummed his guitar and began to sing.
This is my song; it isn’t yours.
I’ve made it up; my mom adores—
It!
Here is the tune; here are the words.
My brother thinks it’s for the birds—
Blah!
It’ll make me cool, this song of mine
Because it proves I’m good at rhyme—
See?
And now I’m out of things to say,
So I’ll sing my song in the exact same way
Again!
Fly started at the beginning and sang all the verses again. Then he started it a third time.
“Hold on a second,” Wolfie interrupted him.
Fly stopped. “What is it?” said Fly. “Did you find the problem?”
“I think a song that goes on and on forever is a bit of a problem.”
Fly snapped his fingers, or tried to. “You’re right! I need one final verse. Let me think a minute.”
He paced back and forth, muttering words under his breath. He stopped and stared up at the ceiling.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for inspiration. Wait, I’ve got it! Here, listen to this.”
He strummed the guitar again.
But every song does need an end,
And the rules of songs I will not bend—
The end!
He hit the guitar one last time and stood there expectantly. “Well?”
“That definitely is an ending,” said Wolfie. “In fact, it uses the word end twice.”
“Now I’m ready for the talent show. And I bet I’m going to win first prize too.”
“There is one little problem still,” Wolfie said.
“Really? Lay it on me.”
“It’s your timing.”
“My timing?”
“It’s off. Sometimes you speed up and sometimes you slow down. You need a steady beat.”
“Hmm, a steady beat. Right. Good advice. Excellent, in fact. There’s only one problem. I’m not very good at keeping a steady beat. Can you help me?”
Wolfie twitched her nose. She didn’t want all her free time to get used up helping Fly. On the other hand, it was a challenge to figure out a way to help him. And she liked challenges.
“Maybe I can show you,” she said. She looked around, but there was nothing useful in the living room so she went into the kitchen. Fly followed her. She saw a plastic garbage can, took out the bag and turned it upside down. Then she got a couple of wooden spoons from the drawer. She sat on the floor.
“I’ll tap out a steady beat. Listen. One two three four, one two three four…”
She held the spoons like drumsticks and hit the overturned garbage can with one and then the other. Thump thump thump thump. Fly listened, bobbing his head with each thump. He swung his guitar around and began to strum in time with Wolfie.
“That’s it,” she said. “Just keep the same steady beat.”
Fly strummed along, smiling. And then suddenly he stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. But you need something else.” He went over to the counter and picked up a small metal pot. He turned the pot over and put it down next to the garbage can.
“Try hitting the pot every once in a while.”
“Why?”
“Just try it.”
She shrugged. “Okay.”
Thump thump thump clang, thump thump thump clang…
Fly strummed his guitar again. The drumming and the guitar sounded good together.
Fly stopped again.
“Now what?” asked Wolfie.
“You need one more thing.” He went to the cupboard and opened the door. He found a pot lid and took it out. Then he took the paper-towel roll off its upright stand. He put the stand on the other side of the garbage can and balanced the lid on it.
“There! A cymbal,” he said. “Try hitting this once in a while, too.”
“Interesting,” said Wolfie. And she started again.
Clang thump ting thump, clang thump ting thump…
“That’s it!” Fly cried. He started to strum, and then he began to sing.
This is my song; it isn’t yours…
They went through the verses twice before Fly sang the new ending. On the last word, Wolfie gave the cymbal and the garbage can a final crash.
“Yes!” shouted Fly, pumping his fist in the air. “That’s it! That’s the music I want! Guitar and drums. We rock! We’re a band, Wolfie, we’re really a
band!”
CHAPTER 4
Pointy Hats
But Wolfie just grimaced at Fly. “I’m not in a band,” she said. “I was just helping you get the beat.”
“But don’t you hear how good we sound? You have to be in the band. It’s destiny! You have to play the talent show with me for sure. We’ll win first place, I know we will.”
Wolfie was about to tell Fly that she was not going to play in the talent show. But she hesitated. Didn’t her mom and dad want her to be in the show? Maybe if she played with Fly, they would stop bugging her about taking after-school classes.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” she said.
“I knew you were going to refuse. But it might be the most important thing we’ve ever done together.”
“I said that I would do it.”
“Why do you always have to…Wait. Did you say you’ll do it?”
“Uh-huh.”
Fly jumped up and down. “Fantastic! Amazing! We’re a band! This is so cool, Wolfie. We’re going to be a big hit. Now we just need a name. How about the Super Sounds?”
“That’s awful.”
“The Warthogs?”
“Even worse.”
“Bugspray? The Bad Smells? Strawberry Ice Cream?”
“Those are all terrible names. Why can’t we just be Wolfie and Fly?”
“Hmm, let me think about that. How about Fly and Wolfie? Nah, it doesn’t sound as good. Okay, we’ll be Wolfie and Fly. There’s just one more thing we need.”
“What’s that?”
“Costumes,” Fly said. “We can’t just sound good. We also have to look good. We need our own style.”
Wolfie didn’t like dressing up, not even for Halloween. She looked down at her overalls. “I like what I’m wearing.”
“Oh sure, that’s your look. But I should match it. And we can add some extras. Have you got rubber boots?”
“Of course. I wear them when it rains. Rubber boots are highly practical.”