Read Online My Year of Epic Rock by Andrea Pyros - Free Book Online

can actually sing. Poor Mrs. Urbano probably wishes she had earplugs when she has to listen to the rest of us try to belt out ‘Let It Be.’”
    â€œThat’s not true,” said Heidi.
    â€œI swear, I have seen the giant Tylenol bottle she keeps tucked in her desk drawer for all those headaches she gets from our voices. But the point is that you have a great voice.”
    â€œThanks,” said Heidi, and amazingly, she smiled a huge happy smile at Tiernan. Whoa, that was a first!
    Tiernan smiled back and rolled his hand in a little circle and did a mock bow over it, like something old-fashioned he’d seen in a movie that involved people who jousted.
    â€œNina, what can you play?” Shane already had a notebook out and was writing down all our names on it.
    â€œThe drums, but I’m not all that—”
    â€œA girl drummer? Yes!” Shane pumped his hand. “That is money in the bank!”
    â€œI’m not all that great,” I finished.
    â€œWho cares? Girl. Drummers. Rock. That’s some serious cred.”
    â€œCred with who, exactly?” said Madison, looking dubious.
    â€œEveryone. Just ask anyone in the biz. Ladies on drums are in .”
    â€œOkay, guys, wait. I’m not so sure about this after all,” I said, hunching over so my chin was almost level with the table.
    â€œWhy not?” said Tiernan. “Shane’s right. It’ll be fun. Why should the talent show blow anyway? Is there a town law that only the untalented must apply?”
    â€œCome on, Nina, if I’m going to play the flute in front of the whole school I need moral support. At least you can hide behind your drums,” Madison said.
    â€œWe could get T-shirts that say The EpiPens on them,” said Shane. “We could write a song that’s called ‘The EpiPen Blues,’ or maybe ‘Anaphylaxis Anarchy.’ Whoa, wait, whoa. Hang on. Listen. What if we got EpiPen to sponsor us and send us on tour?”
    â€œDude, dream on,” said Tiernan.
    â€œYeah, let’s actually practice first,” said Heidi. “I doubt anyone is going to sponsor us, anyway.”
    â€œExcept the ear plug company,” I added. “Or the soundproofing people.”
    Shane ignored us both. “Okay, Heidi, vocals. Tiernan, guitar. Nina, drums. Flute courtesy of Madison. And yours truly on keyboard. I can ask my dad about us practicing in his studio too.” Shane put his pen down.
    â€œYour dad has his own studio? Where?” Madison asked.
    â€œIt’s in our basement,” Shane said. “He had it built when we moved up here so he wouldn’t have to go back and forth to the city all the time for work. He’s in the industry.”
    â€œWhat industry?” Heidi asked.
    â€œWhat industry? The industry! Music. Obviously,” Shane answered, surprise in his voice.
    â€œI still have to think about it,” I said. “I’m kind of rusty on the drums.” What I didn’t say to them was the truth: I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be labeled as a complete and total dork, which is no doubt what would happen if we signed up for the talent show, or if I could truly handle everyone in the school—especially Shelley and Brianna—laughing at me if we bombed.

Chapter 10
    â€œHi, Nina,” said Dad, not turning around. He was sitting on the couch typing on his laptop when I got home that day.
    â€œHi, Dad.” I gave him a wave and kept walking toward the kitchen. Then I turned back again.
    â€œUm, Dad?” I said, sitting down next to him.
    â€œMmm?” He sounded like he wasn’t totally listening, which is what he does when he’s in front of the computer working.
    â€œRemember how I used to play the drums?”
    Dad turned to me when he heard that. Nothing gets him to stop researching monarch butterflies, which is his job, faster than talking about music. He’s even in a cover band