I looked at him with a kind of amazement. How did he understand so much? Sam wore jeans and a rugby shirt. His hair was longish and tousled, and he had two deep dimples that showed when he smiled. He looked like the kind of guy who could fit in anywhere.

He smiled at me, and I smiled back.

And that was when it hit me: Detention with Sam Marks was the best thing that had happened to me since I started middle school.

Every Band Needs a Groupie

We were jamming! Detention was over, and the Awesomes were grooving in the garage. We must have been making some amazing noise, because the neighborhood pets were coming to investigate and then howling along. I bet we would have been a hit if we ever got booked to play at the zoo. They say music tames the savage beast, right?

“THAT WAS INCREDIBLE!” Rhonda screeched when the song finished. “CAN I SING WITH YOU GUYS?”

Yes, Rhonda was there. She was standing in front of my garage, waiting, when I got home from detention. True, this afternoon, while we were playing our now-familiar game of Twenty Questions: Rhonda Edition, I might have mentioned that I had rehearsal today. The funny thing is, I don’t remember inviting her to watch. Did you invite her?

No? Why am I not surprised?

Anyway, there she was. And she wanted to sing.

Mari was looking at me with lifted eyebrows, as if to say She’s your friend. What do you think?

Rhonda was doing her very best impression of a puppy begging for a treat. I swear there were tears in her eyes.

“Um, Rhonda, we really need to practice,” I explained.

Rhonda nodded. “OKAY, MAYBE LATER.”

“Let’s do that last song again,” Patti suggested. “I think it’s getting there.”

We launched into the music. I really gave it all I had, and I think that at least half of the notes were right this time. I’ve managed to teach myself three chords on the guitar: G, C, and D. It turns out you can use them for almost anything.

We must have been sounding better, because Rhonda started to dance. Well, I think she was dancing.

“CAN I SING WITH YOU GUYS NOW?” Rhonda asked once the song was over.

“Well, sure, Rhonda—” Nanci started, but I glared at her and shook my head. She clammed up.

“Rhonda, we’re not a karaoke machine,” I was explaining just as the breezeway door slammed open. My brother stood there, his fingers plugging his ears.

“Yeah, because a karaoke machine actually sounds like music,” Rafe said.

I was about to tell him to get out, when Rhonda laughed. I couldn’t decide which one of them I wanted to throttle first.

“Get out of here, Rafe!” I shouted.

Nanci sighed as he waved and grinned and scooted back through the door. “We kind of do stink,” she admitted.