by Melody Reed
the right hand to start with.
Scarlet began singing.
“Your love is like a song . . . to the
beat of my heart. . . .”
It was awful. It
didn’t sound like
the song on the
radio at all.
Scarlet stopped.
I was the only one
playing. “We just
need practice,” I
told my friends.
“This is a love
song.” Scarlet made a face. “Gross!”
“And you
aren’t playing
with your left
hand,” said
Becca. “That’s
where I watch
for chords.”
“Just keep
playing,” said Maggie. “We’ll get it.”
Scarlet shrugged. “Also, I only know
the chorus.”
I frowned. “Maybe we should skip
ahead, then.”
I played the chorus. Scarlet belted
out the high notes. Maggie picked
up the beat on the kick drum. Becca
looked over my shoulder. It finally
started to sound like the song! Maybe
this would work after all.
But Becca still did not play. Finally,
she took off the guitar strap. She put
her guitar away in its gig bag.
We all stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Scarlet asked her.
Becca’s face turned red. “I can’t
play this!” she shouted.
I blinked. Maggie dropped her
sticks. Scarlet raised her eyebrows.
“I told you,” Becca
said. “I only read
chords Major chords,
minor chords. But I
do not read music.
This is too hard!”
She zipped the
bag shut.
“Wait!” I cried.
“Becca, I know it’s
hard. But we can
figure it out. We have to. We need
to play a real song!”
“Then I guess I am not competing,”
Becca said. She threw the gig bag
over her shoulder. She stormed up
the stairs. The door slammed shut
behind her.
“Now what do we do?” Maggie
asked.
“We can’t compete without a
guitar,” I said.
“We are not a band without a
guitar,” Scarlet said.
“We are not a band without Becca,”
Maggie said.
My heart sank. Competing in the
Battle of the Bands was going to be
harder than I thought.
Scarlet, Maggie, and I practiced
without Becca. We practiced for
several days. But the real song still did
not sound right. The piano part was
too hard for me. Scarlet didn’t know
the tune, so she made up her own.
Maggie only played her kick drum,
because she was afraid of playing the
song wrong.
And we all missed Becca.
Later that week, Mom was driving
me home from school.
“I haven’t seen Becca lately,”
said Mom.
I leaned my cheek against the
door. “Me neither.”
“Is she still in the band?” Mom
asked.
“No,” I said. “She left because she
didn’t like the song I picked for us
to play.”
“Hmm,” said Mom. “That sounds
tricky.”
“It is.” I sighed. “We sound awful
without her. The Battle of the Bands
is in one week.”
“Maybe you
don’t need to
win,” said Mom.
“Maybe you
should just go
up there and
have fun.”
“But if we win, we can buy
equipment. If we win, we will show
everyone that we are a real band.”
“I think you already are a real
band, Jasmine. And I think you and
your friends are at your best when
you are having fun. Together.”
I thought about what Mom said.
Nobody had fun with the song I
picked. Especially Becca.
And then I had an idea.
“Mom! Do you have any paper?”
“So, what’s so important, Jasmine?”
Scarlet folded her arms. It was the
next night. At recess that day, I had
told my band friends to come over for
a super-important meeting. I had the
broken keyboard and hairbrush mic
ready. Maggie sat behind the drums.
Even Becca came. But she sat on the
basement stairs.
I took a deep breath. “I want us to
have fun again,” I said.
Scarlet and Maggie looked at each
other.
“Ever since we started playing the
song I picked, we’ve been fighting.
Becca got mad and left. We aren’t
having fun anymore.”
Scarlet nodded. “I don’t like the
song,” she said. “You picked it without
asking us.”
Maggie whispered, “It is a hard
song, too.”
“And there are no chords for Becca,”
Scarlet said.
“I know,” I said. “I thought we
had to do a hard song to win. But it
doesn’t matter if we win. I just want
my friends back.”
Becca came down the steps. “I’m
sorry I left,” she said. She hugged
me. Then Scarlet hugged both of us.
Then Maggie hugged all of us. We
were a giant dumpling, all squished
together. I laughed. Scarlet laughed.
Maggie and Becca laughed. We
bobbled against each other and
Maggie tripped. We all went down
with her. We were a pile of giggles
on the carpet.
I sat up. It was good to have all
my friends back. Now I had to tell
them my new idea.
“I have something else to say,” I
said.
My friends listened.
I pulled out sheets of paper.
Maggie and Scarlet frowned. Becca
glanced up the stairs.
“It’s not what
you think,” I said.
I passed out the
pages. “I wrote
down the song
we made up
last week.
It’s not for the competition or
anything. It’s just for fun. I created a
chorus and verses. And I put in guitar
chords.” I smiled at Becca.
She looked at the paper. “I can
play this!”
“Hey,” said Scarlet. “These are the
words I was singing!”
“We should do this!” said Maggie.
Becca took her guitar out. I played
notes for her to tune to. Maggie
rolled on her snare drum to warm up.
Scarlet sang her scales.
“We sound crazy!” I said.
Scarlet laughed. “Hit it, Jasmine!”
I strung out the notes in the first
chord, E major. I played them one at
a time, counting the beats.
Maggie joined me. She pressed
the kick drum pedal in time with the
beat.
Becca strummed along with us.
Her face glowed.
Scarlet began to sing. “Once I was
inside a box. There I met a crazy fox.
He told me I had chicken pox. But I
said . . .”
We built up to the chorus. Becca,
Maggie, and I paused. Then we
played loud. Scarlet sang: “People
get chicken pox, chickens get fox pox,
foxes get people pox. That’s a lot of
crazy talk. . . .”
Maggie giggled. But she kept the
beat.
For the first time, we played a
whole song together. It was not a real
song, but it was our song. And that
was even better.
“Hey,” Scarlet said. “What if we
play that song at the Battle of the
Bands?”
I frowned. “But I just wrote it down
for fun.”
“We definitely should! It’s a great
song,” Becca said. “And we wrote it!”
Maggie nodded. “Let’s do it!”
I didn’t know what to say. I thought
we were just being silly together.
Singing this in front of a crowd was
not my plan. Then again, my friends
were happy. “Well . . .”
“Come on, Jasmine,” they begged.
“Please?”
I shrugged. “Oh, okay.”
Maggie and Becca high-fived.
Scarlet said, “That song is majorly
funny.”
“That’s it!” shouted Maggie. “We
can be the Major Eights! You know,
‘major’ like ‘major chords’ and also like
. . . ‘important.’” She put her hands on
her hips like a superhero.
“That and we’re majorly crazy,”
Scarlet laughed.
“That’s perfect!” Becca said.
“Yeah,” I said. But inside, I was
worried. If we played this song for
the competition, people would laugh
at us. My brother would make fun of
me. Leslie would beat me again. And
people would not believe we were a
real band.
This was not looking good.
I took a deep breath. The air smelled
like corn dogs. From behind the stage,
we could hear Leslie Miller playing her
piano solo. Ms. Kwan stood ready with
her laptop. Mom and Dad and Nick
were out there watching. I huddled
closer to Scarlet, Becca, and Maggie.
“We’re still doing ‘Fox Pox,’ right?”
Scarlet whispered.
“Definitely,” Becca said.
I still had time to change their
minds. “Maybe we should do the
other one.”
“What?!” they all whispered.
“It’s just . . . listen to Leslie! She
sounds like . . . a grown-up.”
Leslie finished her solo. The crowd
cheered.
Ms. Kwan nodded to the next
group. They were a lot older than
us. They wore black leather. The girl
with the keyboard even had pink
hair. They carried a sign that said,
Silver Sporks.
Maggie said, “Maybe Jasmine is
right.”
“But . . . I can’t play the other song!”
Becca said. “I thought we were doing
‘Fox Pox.’”
“Me, too,” said Scarlet.
Then the Silver Sporks began. “Your
love is like a song . . . to the beat of
my heart. . . .”
I stomped
my foot. “That’s
our song!”
“Oh, no!”
said Maggie.
I listened.
“They play it
better than
we do,” I said.
“Jasmine,” said Becca, “we have to
play ‘Fox Pox now.’”
“But it’s just a crazy song we made
up on the spot,” I said. “It was just for
fun!”
“That’s right,” said Scarlet. “It is fun.
Which is why I want to do it.”
“Me, too,” said Becca.
“Me three,” said Maggie.
I sighed. “But we might lose,” I said.
“That doesn’t
matter,” said
Scarlet.
“They’ll laugh
at us,” I said.
“It’s a funny
song!” Becca
replied.
“They will think we’re not a real
band,” I said.
“So what?” said Maggie. “Jasmine,
there’s no time left!”
The Silver Sporks finished their song.
Ms. Kwan called us over. Becca, Maggie,
and Scarlet bounced onto the stage.
I hung my head. The Silver Sporks
high-fived us on their way down the
stairs. The keyboard girl with pink hair
looked at me. She smiled and said,
“Hey, break a finger.”
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“She was being silly,” Becca
whispered. “She meant ‘good luck.’”
We took our places on the stage. I
stared out at the crowd. My parents
and Nick were in the front. My heart
sped up.
But if the Silver Sporks could be
silly and still be good, maybe we
could, too. I looked up. Scarlet stood
proudly, mic in hand. Becca had her
guitar strapped on. Maggie smiled
from the drum set. I smiled back.
Ms. Kwan announced, “And now,
the Major Eights!” The crowd clapped
politely.
I began the chords. I played each
note, one at a time. Becca and
Maggie joined in.
Then Scarlet began to sing.
At first, the crowd was quiet. But
slowly, the laughter started. It spread
through the crowd. My face got hot.
I felt like running off the stage. But
my friends kept playing. When we
got to the chorus and Scarlet sang
about fox pox, the laughter erupted.
Everyone laughed. I looked down as I
played. I could not wait for the song
to be over.
And then, it was. The crowd did
not laugh anymore. They cheered! My
mouth fell open. They had not been
laughing at us. They were laughing
with us. They thought our song was
funny!
My parents cheered in the front.
Even Nick cheered. He shouted, “Go,
Jasmine! The Major Eights rock!!!”
I beamed with pride.
Ms. Kwan smiled wide at us. “Great
job, girls!”
The four of us stood together, arm
in arm. We took a bow. The crowd
cheered even louder. Someone
whistled.
“I can’t believe this is happening!”
Maggie said.
“They really like us,” Becca said.
“Of course they do!” Scarlet agreed.
“This is the best day ever!” I yelled.
Becca, Scarlet, Maggie, and I waited.
We had waited all day for this.
Leslie came over. “Jasmine, your
band was great!” she said.
“Not as good as your piano solo,” I
told
her. “But thanks!”
Finally, Ms. Kwan was onstage. She
held a paper in her hand. “I have
the results from the judges,” she
announced. “For Center City’s Battle
of the Bands, the grand prize winner
of the thousand dollars is . . . ”
Maggie crossed her fingers. Scarlet
held her breath. Becca and I squeezed
each other’s hands.
“. . . the Silver Sporks!”
Our shoulders sagged. But the
Silver Sporks seemed like a nice group.
I clapped for them. I was glad they
won.
“It is really okay that we didn’t
win,” Becca said.
“Maybe we can enter another one
of these sometime,” Maggie said.
“I would like that,” I agreed.
“Me, too,” Scarlet said.
But Ms. Kwan was not finished.
After the Silver Sporks got their check,
she stepped up to the mic again. “We
also have an honorable mention to
award,” she said.
“What’s that?” I whispered.
“Somebody who was pretty good,
but didn’t win,” Maggie whispered
back.
“The judges think this group has a
lot of potential,” said Ms. Kwan. “And
I think we can all agree that they do.
The honorable mention goes to . . .”
“. . . the Major Eights!”
Scarlet screamed. Becca jumped in
the air. Maggie’s jaw dropped.
“That’s us!” I shouted.
“Come on,” Scarlet said. We ran up
