Nick smiled. “She smelled good.”
“She delivered garlic bread,” Kevin said.
“Hello?” Stella put her hands on her hips and stared at them. “Don’t you guys get it?”
Kevin was starting to get the same feeling he always got during pop quizzes in math class. Namely, the panicky feeling of not knowing the right answers.
“How can we get it if you keep asking us questions?” he cried.
Stella sighed. As usual, she was going to have to spell it out for them. “You were fighting over a girl you hardly knew,” she said, speaking slowly and clearly so they’d be sure to follow her. “It wasn’t about Maria at all.”
Joe looked pensive. Maybe Stella was right. After all, she usually was. “I guess we did get a little overly competitive,” he admitted.
“And you guys aren’t about being competitive,” Stella said. “You’re about teamwork. That’s what makes you a great band.”
Kevin smiled. Suddenly he didn’t feel like he was in math class anymore. “Okay, now we get it,” he said.
“I got it a while ago,” Nick informed him smugly.
“Me, too,” Joe put in quickly. “I was just waiting for you guys to catch up.”
Nick glanced at Stella. “We promise not to be so competitive,” he assured her.
Kevin nodded vigorously. “And I’m going to be even less competitive than these guys.”
“Dude,” Joe said, “there’s no way you’re going to be less competitive than me!”
“First one down the fire poles is the least competitive!” Nick cried.
The three of them leaped for the poles and disappeared. A second later, their voices floated upward. “I won!” all three cried at the same time.
Stella smacked her own forehead in disbelief. Why did she even bother? Boys were always going to be boys—even if they were famous.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Later that day, Nick put his left hand on the JONAS Book of Law. Beside him, Joe stepped forward and did the same. Then Kevin added his hand to the dusty old book.
All three of them were in the firehouse kitchen. Stella was watching from nearby.
“We solemnly swear to never, ever let a girl come between us again,” Nick intoned. “No matter how cute, funny, or how little we know about her.”
“Word,” Joe and Kevin agreed.
Stella smiled. “I’m proud of you guys.”
“Me, too,” Joe said.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Joe headed over to answer it.
“I’m more proud of us,” Nick said.
Joe glanced over his shoulder. “My middle name is ‘Proud.’ ”
“My middle name is ‘More-Proud-Than-Nick-And-Joe,’” Kevin put in quickly. “It’s a long name—that’s why I don’t use it very often.”
Stella hardly heard them. She was still mulling over the whole ridiculous Maria situation.
“When you think about it,” she mused, “it’s pretty silly how hard you fell over someone you didn’t even know.”
By then Joe was swinging open the door. Standing outside was a uniformed delivery person.
“Who ordered from the Juice King?” Joe called over his shoulder.
Kevin shook his head. He hadn’t ordered any juice. Nick shrugged. He didn’t even like the Juice King. They used too much banana.
Just then the delivery person took off his cap. His hair came tumbling out in a gleaming cascade of hotness. Yes, his hair. The delivery person was a totally adorable guy.
Stella smiled, her eyes going all gooey. “I did,” she swooned.
Hey, she never said she was perfect.
Don’t miss a beat! Check out the next book in the JONAS series.
DOUBLE
TAKE
Adapted by Marianne Schaberg
Based on the series created by Michael Curtis & Roger S. H. Schulman
Part One is based on the episode, “That Ding You Do!” Written by Heather MacGillvray & Linda Mathious
It was just a typical afternoon in the Lucas household. Kevin, Nick, and Joe were lounging in their living room together.
The boys lived in a converted firehouse with their parents and younger brother, Frankie. Having to slide down a pole to reach the breakfast table wasn’t the only thing that set the three Lucas brothers apart from other teenagers—they also happened to be mega rock stars. They were so famous that their pictures were plastered on the walls of the rooms of teenage girls’ everywhere. Together, the three brothers made up the hottest rock band on the planet, JONAS.
That afternoon, Kevin, the oldest member of JONAS, was working on his pecs, lifting twenty-pound weights in the corner. He needed to stay fit if he was going to jam out practically every night onstage. Nick sat on a stool strumming his guitar, practicing a new song for the band. Sprawled out on the couch, Joe wasn’t working quite so hard; he was busy catching up on the latest issue of Teenster Magazine.
“Hey, guys, there’s a new ‘How well do you know JONAS?’ quiz in here!” Joe called out, flipping to a page in the magazine. He always got a kick out of the questions and answers. “Let’s see how well I know . . . Joe!”
Joe went through each question aloud: “Yes . . . No . . . Armadillo . . . No . . . Yes.”
Clutching the magazine, Joe jumped up on the couch. “All right! Five out of five! I’m a”—he searched for his score—“‘real Joe nut,’ ” he read.
Curious, Kevin and Nick walked over to check out the quiz. Reading over Joe’s shoulder, Nick raised an eyebrow. “Hey, your favorite snack isn’t cherry pudding,” he said to Kevin.
Kevin shook his head. “It’s chocolate tacos. And your favorite color isn’t medium spring green. It’s electric indigo,” he told Nick as he flopped down on the couch, dejected.
Pulling the magazine away again, Kevin read his profile. Everything was wrong! This meant war! “We need to straighten out Teenster Magazine!” he cried.
Excited by the prospect of putting the magazine in its place, Kevin turned to his brothers and went on. “We should write a letter to the editor,” he said and searched for the name in the magazine.
Joe was as eager as his brothers to prove a point to the magazine—even if it had gotten some of his favorites right. “Who’s got a pen?” he asked.
Fumbling through his pockets, Nick shook his head. No luck. Kevin shrugged. He didn’t have a pen either. Within seconds, Joe had a solution; he jumped up and ran over to one of the windows in the living room.
As soon as he opened the window, the sound of hundreds of screaming girls poured into the firehouse. On a daily basis, girls surrounded the Lucas home, patiently waiting for just one peek at the band. This caused serious problems for the boys and their family. They couldn’t even go out to buy groceries without getting swarmed. But sometimes it had its upsides.
Bracing himself, Joe peeked his head out the window. The sound rose to a deafening roar. Putting his hands up to his mouth, Joe shouted, “Excuse me, girls! Anyone got a pen?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, a blizzard of pens came flying through the window. Joe ducked. Turning around, he saw the pens sticking out of the wall in a perfect heart-shaped pattern. Those girls had pretty good aim. Joe stood up and yelled out to them, “Thank you!”
Shutting the window, he walked over to the pens, pulled one out of the wall and sat down with his brothers to write a strongly worded letter to the editor.
Off the Charts Page 6
