Read Online Is by Derek Webb - Free Book Online Page B

like music.’
    â€˜Music?’
    â€˜Why do you have to keep repeating everything I say?’ asked Kevin, beginning to become annoyed himself.
    â€˜Yeah, why do you have to keep repeating everything Kev says?’ repeated one of Kevin’s extra thick mates. Two Short Planks I called him.
    â€˜I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re going on about,’ I replied truthfully.
    â€˜Me and the boys here are forming a group.’ Kevin said once more. ‘We’re going to make records and things, you know.’
    â€˜But you can’t play an instrument, Kevin,’ I said with great difficulty – trying not to laugh in his face.
    â€˜Don’t matter.’
    I knew I’d regret asking, but I did anyway. ‘Why doesn’t it matter?’
    â€˜I’m the lead singer!’
    That did it. I nearly doubled up. I could feel my face twitching and I began making strange guttural noises as I fought to hold back the roar of laughter ready to burst from inside me.
    Kevin looked confused. ‘What’s so funny?’
    I looked at Kevin and then at his large mates from the upper forms.
    â€˜Nothing,’ I said with a reasonably straight face. ‘Just a joke I remembered.’
    Luckily Kevin didn’t pursue it; he was much keener on getting to the point of his little chat.
    â€˜Thing is, all we need is a few more quid and we’ll be able to get all the gear we need. That’s why we thought of you. It’s like an investment, you know. You put your money down and then when we make a fortune you get a share.’
    â€˜No thanks,’ I said as politely and firmly as I could.
    â€˜Kev’s offering you a share in our group,’ said Two Short Planks.
    â€˜Well,’ I smiled, ‘thanks for the invitation, but no thanks.’
    â€˜Kev wasn’t asking you if you wanted in or not,’ Two Short Planks persisted. ‘He was telling you.’
    â€˜I see.’ At last I began to understand. I looked from one member of Kevin’s ‘group’ to the next.
    And the next. They were all as ugly as each other and all were expecting an answer. The question was how much did I value my face? A few pence seemed a small price to pay to keep my nose intact.
    â€˜How much?’ I asked.
    â€˜Two pounds,’ answered Kevin with a smirk.
    â€˜How much?’ I was aghast. Two pounds may not seem like much now, but back in the early seventies it was quite a lot of money and a lot, lot more than Kevin’s last scheme – Brains United. You could buy an album for £2 – by someone decent. So paying two quid to have Kevin Ryder and his Morons inflicted on everyone hardly seemed like a bargain. Nevertheless I dug deep into my pockets, but only came up with 85 pence, some creased picture cards, some sticky sweet wrappers, two sticks of Wrigleys, a button and lots of fluff.
    â€˜You’ll have to do better than that,’ said one of the other members of the group, pounding one fist rhythmically into the flat of his other hand. I figured he must be the drummer.
    â€˜It’s all I’ve got,’ I said in an alarmed voice. ‘I can get the rest for tomorrow.’
    â€˜Make sure you do,’ was the only answer I got. And then, relief of reliefs, the bell went to signal the start of school.
    I rushed inside without another word. Isabel must have slipped by me while I was having my little chat with Kevin and his mates. When I got into Mr Gregory’s class she was already sitting, grim-faced, at her desk.
    â€˜Ah you’re back with us today are you, Isabel? Good. Good,’ remarked Mr Gregory when he looked up. ‘Not another fit I hope.’
    â€˜No, Sir.’ Without saying another word she got up and went over to his desk, nearly being knocked over in the process by Kevin as he tore into the room.
    â€˜Not so fast, Ryder!’ yelled Mr Gregory, and amazingly he managed to catch Kevin by the