CHAPTER 1

It’s Monday, the start of my second week of junior year. It’s also the first day of rock band practice. I’m stoked!

I race to my locker after the last bell and grab my guitar case. When I reach the band room, Rudy is already there, setting up his drum kit.

He looks up and grins. “Dude.”

How can one word mean so much? Maybe it’s just the way Rudy says it, but I instantly feel it too. It’s the electric thrill of starting another year of rock band. It’s the anticipation of playing until I can’t feel my fingers and singing until my throat gets hoarse. It may not sound fun to some people, but it’s what I live for.

“What’s up?” I say, walking over for a fist bump. I might seem calm on the outside, but inside my heart is ready to burst with the sheer joy of being here again.

“Is that it?” He nods toward the guitar case slung over my shoulder.

I texted everyone in the band the day I bought my brand-new, limited-edition Fender electric guitar, but this is the first time anyone has seen it. When I lovingly remove it from its case, a ray of sunlight strikes it through the window and sets the flame top aglow. I swear I can almost hear angels singing in the background.

“Whoa,” Rudy sighs. “That’s a boss guitar, Ethan. What do you call that color?”

“Blue Burst,” I say proudly.

I’ve never owned anything as spectacular as this guitar. It cost me a whole summer of working at my dad’s construction company, and it was worth every blister.

The next thing I know, our bassist Freddie and keyboardist Willow are walking through the door. They surround my new guitar in amazement, giving it the attention it deserves.

We call ourselves The Misfits—and for good reason. Willow’s left leg is longer than her right, so she has a permanent lift in her shoe. Freddie has dyslexia, although he can read music just fine. Rudy’s unlucky enough to have the worst case of acne this school has ever seen.

And me? Well, let’s just say I’m your classic nerd—braces on my teeth, thick bottle-cap glasses, and ears like Spock from Star Trek. I’m also that annoying kid who answers every question in class before anyone else can get their hand up, which hasn’t won me a lot of friends. In fact, I used to spend so much time alone on the weekends that I taught myself how to play the guitar. Before Rudy suggested I try out for Mr. Arrowhead’s after-school rock band, I had resigned myself to being a nobody.

But ever since we killed it at the talent show last year, The Misfits have ruled the school’s social scene. We draw crowds wherever we go. And as our lead singer and guitarist, I am no longer a nobody. I am a certified rock star!

Freddie and I get busy tuning our instruments, and Rudy finishes setting up the drum kit he borrows from Mr. Arrowhead. Willow pushes the piano over to us and does some warm-ups. While I’m running my fingers over the strings, doing a riff of “I Love Rock and Roll” by Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, Mr. Arrowhead walks in. He stops in his tracks and watches me play for a minute.

“Now that’s a guitar,” he says, giving a nod of appreciation.

Mr. Arrowhead is a shaggy-haired dude with a gut that laps over his belt. Don’t let looks deceive you, though. The guy knows everything there is to know about music. I’ve heard rumors that he can play every single instrument in the band.

After another admiration session for “Big Blue” (my new name for the guitar), Mr. Arrowhead pulls up a chair.

“I hope you all had a good summer,” he says, smiling. “But it’s time to get back to work.”

“Rock on!” Rudy shouts, and we all cheer.

“Are we doing the talent show again?” Willow asks.

“Yawn,” I say.

“Ethan’s right,” Mr. Arrowhead says. “We have bigger fish to fry. This year, I got us an audition for Battle of the Bands. It’s in six weeks.”

“Wow, Mr. Arrowhead,” I say, “that’s just…” I can’t even get the words out. I think I’m speechless.

This is huge. Battle of the Bands is a big event within our community, and the top three bands go on to perform at the statewide competition. If we win, who knows what could happen?

“There’s just one more thing before we get started,” Mr. Arrowhead says. “We’re auditioning a new student tomorrow. Her name is Lia Davis. She moved here from New York City. The word is she went to a performing arts school there.”

“New York City?” Freddie frowns. “How’d she end up in Nowheresville, West Virginia?”

Mr. Arrowhead shrugs. “I guess New York City’s loss is our gain.”

“What’s she going to play?” I ask, glancing around. “Tambourine?”

“Actually, she plays guitar,” Mr. Arrowhead says. “And she sings.”

I almost fall off my chair. Lead guitarist and vocalist is my gig. There’s no way this girl is taking my spot. No way. But she went to a performing arts school. In New York City. A trickle of doubt rolls down my spine. What if she’s better than me?

CHAPTER 2

Her guitar is a Gibson—long, slim, and blond, just like she is. It’s an impressive instrument and probably cost her twice as much as Big Blue cost me. Still, I find myself relaxing for the first time since Mr. Arrowhead told us about Lia Davis. She’s nothing but a Taylor Swift wannabe. She’s too perfect to fit into our band of misfits.

The gang surrounds her, oohing and aahing over her awesome guitar. I hang back, a little miffed by the whole thing, to be honest. I take Big Blue out of its case and sit down away from the others to tune the strings. Lia must have caught my movement because the next thing I know, she’s walking over.

She’s wearing a tight, black jumpsuit and high-heeled boots. Her outfit reminds me of the all-girls rock band from this cartoon my little sister Frannie watches, Josie and the Pussycats. Lia’s get-up is almost identical to what the Pussycats wear. She definitely doesn’t belong here. This is a rock and roll band, not a cartoon.

“Hi,” she says. Her voice is not bubbly and sweet like I expected but low and husky. “That guitar is fire. It’s a Fender, right?”

“That’s right,” I say. “Limited edition.”

“I’d love to jam with you.”

I bristle. “Maybe we should wait and see how your audition goes.”

She smiles with teeth so white they sparkle. “Oh, no worries there.”

Before I can reply, Mr. Arrowhead walks into the band room.

“I see you’ve all met Lia,” he says and turns to her. “Ready for your audition?”

“Let’s do it,” she says.

We arrange ourselves in our usual places. Lia plugs her guitar into an amp next to Rudy’s drum set. She plays a few chords to warm up. Her E string twangs, and she adjusts it.

Then she launches right into the old Aerosmith ballad, “Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.” It’s classic rock, one of my faves, and it doesn’t take long to realize she’s acing it. Her fingers expertly run the fret, and her singing voice has that perfect rasp that all good rockers have.

Everything in me deflates. This is not going at all like I expected.

After she finishes Aerosmith, she jumps right into the Green Day headbanger, “Basket Case.” It’s nothing short of breathtaking.

At the final chord, everyone bursts into applause. Except for me. I totally fake it.

“That was fantastic,” Mr. Arrowhead says enthusiastically. “You have real talent, Lia.” He looks around the group. “This seems like a no-brainer, but—show of hands for Lia to join the band?”

Everyone’s hands shoot up, so, of course, I have to play along and raise mine.

“How is this going to work?” I ask. My voice is louder than I mean it to be.

Mr. Arrowhead frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Now we have two lead singer-guitarists.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Ethan. You and Lia have your own individual styles. You can each play your own songs at our concerts.”

“But what about Battle of the Bands? We can only play one song. I already checked.”

“Hmm.” He strokes his beard. “In that case, let the best man—or woman—win.”

Well, this really stinks. Okay, fine, Lia is good. She might even be as good as me, but she’s certainly not better. I will play Battle of the Bands if it kills me. This is an all-out war.

To make matters worse, the very next day, Lia turns up in my Graphic Arts class. In Graphic Arts, we learn about design and how to create digital artwork. Besides rock band, this is the best part of my day. Computers are in my blood, obviously! It’s all part of being a nerd. Is Lia going to challenge me here, too? Does she have to take over my whole life?

I’m slightly relieved when it becomes obvious that Lia can barely turn on her computer, much less use our design software. But still, it’s unsettling to have her in class. Why can’t she just go back to New York and leave me alone?

I bring it up to Rudy over pizza slices at lunch.

“What’s your beef?” he says, pulling off a piece of pepperoni and popping it in his mouth. “Lia’s amazing.”

“She’s not a Misfit.”

“Yeah, we were talking about that. It might be time to change our name. Lia had some great ideas—”

“What?” I almost choke on my pizza. “First, she tries to take over my spot, and now she wants to change the name of our band?”

“Chill, dude. Change is good. Our band will only get better.”

“I liked it the way it was.”

Rudy just shrugs and goes back to his pizza.

I spend more time thinking about it until I’m struck with a brilliant idea. There’s a surefire way to impress the band and get the edge on that Battle of the Bands gig.

I’m going to write an original song.

CHAPTER 3

It takes me two weeks to write my song. Two weeks of coming straight home after band practice and writing whatever comes into my head. Two weeks of laying down tracks and putting it all together. Two weeks of practicing past midnight until my parents threaten to throw Big Blue out the window so they can sleep.

Two weeks, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever written! This song is going to melt some faces at Battle of the Bands. Who knows, maybe we’ll even get a record contract!

Meanwhile, the whole band experience since Lia showed up has put a sour taste in my mouth. I’m only getting half the playing time, for one. And I’m tired of her homecoming queen act. It’s like she always has to be the center of attention! If it’s not Willow imitating Lia’s Pussycat wardrobe, it’s Freddie or Rudy complimenting her technique or asking if she wants to hang out after practice. And yet, she’s still trying to get me to jam with her. As if!

The biggest kick in the pants is the band’s vote to change our name from Misfits to Zodiacs. It was almost unanimous (mine being the only no). Even Mr. Arrowhead voted yes. I don’t get it! I loved The Misfits. We were special, the stuff of made-for-TV movies. We were the underdogs who persevered and became rock stars. And now we’re just another tacky band.

That’s all going to change, though, when they hear my original song. It’s going to rock them so hard that they’ll forget Lia Davis ever existed.

“Battle of the Bands will be here before we know it,” Mr. Arrowhead says a few days later. “We need to come up with a song that will wow the judges.”

Yes! This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. But before I can open my mouth, Rudy raises his hand.

“I like the one we’re practicing now,” he says. “You know, ‘Drive.’”

“That’s a great song,” Mr. Arrowhead says. “But it’s been done to death.”

I raise my hand, but Willow interrupts. “Lia wrote an original song. It would be perfect for Battle of the Bands.”

My jaw drops, and I quickly lower my hand. Lia wrote an original song, too? How could this happen? Has she been stalking me or something?

Lia’s face turns pink. “Thanks, Willow. But I’m sure there are better songs we could play.”

Yeah. Like mine.

Mr. Arrowhead shakes his head. “This is no time to be modest, Lia. An original song would really impress the judges.”

“But—what about me?” I almost shout.

All heads swivel my way, their mouths open in surprise.

“Do you have something to say, Ethan?” Mr. Arrowhead asks.

“I… um...” Jeez, I thought this would be so much easier. “I was just… going to say that I wrote an original song too.”

“That’s awesome!” Rudy says. The others nod encouragingly.

“Let’s hear them both and then decide which one to take to Battle of the Bands,” Mr. Arrowhead says.

Being a gentleman, I let Lia go first. She gets up and plugs her guitar into the amp.

“This is called ‘Constellations,’” she says. “I got the idea because I’m really into astronomy. That’s how I came up with Zodiacs for our band name.”

“Zodiacs are astrology, not astronomy,” I mumble but not loud enough for anyone else to hear.

She strums a few chords and then starts to play. My heart sinks. Her song is good. More than good. The only problem is that it’s not really rock. It’s bluesy, it’s emo, it’s maybe even a little bit jazzy, but not really rock. So I’m not sure it’s right for Battle of the Bands. But I have to admit I would kill to have written that chorus.

When she’s finished, there’s extended applause, and then it’s my turn. As I stand, butterflies swarm inside my stomach. I have to nail this. Especially after Lia’s performance.

“Um,” I start, “I call this ‘Artificial Stupidity.’ It’s a twist on Artificial Intelligence, or AI. Actually, it’s more like a warning. We don’t want robots taking over everything, right? Anyway, I hope you like it.”

I mess up the first chord, but when my nerves settle, I start crushing it. My song is nothing like Lia’s. It’s pure head-banging rock. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rudy drumming to the beat on his thighs. I knew the guys would love it.

After I finish, though, I don’t get the standing O that I was hoping for. Even worse, no one looks me in the eye. What is going on?

Mr. Arrowhead has a tiny frown between his eyebrows. “Shall we vote?” he says. “A show of hands for ‘Constellations’?”

Everyone raises their hand except for me and Lia. I stare around in shock.

Mr. Arrowhead clears his throat. “‘Artificial—uh—Stupidity?’”

I raise my hand, and Lia puts hers up too. For some reason, that’s the thing that annoys me the most.

“I guess we have a winner,” Mr. Arrowhead says. “We’ll be playing Lia’s song at Battle of the Bands.”

“But—wait!” I protest. I feel like my head is going to pop off my neck and catapult into space. “Lia’s song isn’t even rock. And Rudy, you were jamming to mine! I saw you!”

“Your song had a great beat, Ethan,” Rudy says. “It was technically good… but it didn’t have any soul.”

“It’s about AI, Rudy. Robots don’t have souls.”

Rudy shakes his head. “Yeah, I get that. But Lia’s song was better.”

Disappointment clouds my vision, and I blink back tears. I can’t believe Rudy just disrespected my song like that. He might as well have stabbed me in the heart. After I spent two weeks with cramped fingers and no sleep, the band didn’t choose my song. And now Lia is going to take my place at Battle of the Bands!

I stand up and grab Big Blue. “I can’t do this anymore,” I say. “I’m quitting the band.”

I turn and stalk out of the room without looking back.

CHAPTER 4

The next week goes by in a blur of self-pity. Not only did the band choose Lia’s song over mine, but they didn’t even stop me when I said I was quitting! That’s what crushed me the most. I thought those guys were my friends.

I keep to myself, avoiding the cafeteria where I used to eat with Rudy, the gym locker room where I used to joke around with Freddie, and the spot on the stairs where Willow and I used to pass by each other after third period.

The only person I can’t avoid is Lia because I wouldn’t miss Graphic Arts, even to escape her.

It doesn’t even make me feel better that she’s always staring hopelessly at her computer and asking our teacher, Mrs. Avery, for help.

Our next assignment for Graphic Arts is to design a room. Mrs. Avery says it has to be something unusual, a room that not many people would have in their houses. I decide to build my own recording studio, with a huge digital workstation, walls full of instruments, high-quality microphones, and a stellar sound system.

I put all my effort into the project to get my mind off the band. Even better, I can hide in the library during lunch to work on it. But every day when I walk in, someone else is there too—the one person in the world I don’t want to see: Lia.

It’s a free country, I guess. Sighing, I do my best to ignore her and immerse myself in my project.

This works for a while until I happen to stretch one day, and my eyes fall on Lia sitting three computers away. She’s crying, not full-out sobbing, but quietly sitting with tears running down her face. I ignore her for a while, but every time I glance over, it’s still happening. Should I say something? Maybe I should tell the librarian.

Before I can do anything, she looks up and catches my eye.

“Sorry,” she says, wiping her eyes with a tissue from her backpack.

“No problem,” I mumble.

“It’s just… Graphic Arts is so hard! Mrs. Avery says if I don’t do well on this project, I could fail the class. My parents are on my case about it. Can you believe they threatened to take me out of rock band?”

“Wouldn’t that be awful,” I say bitterly.

“Oh.” She makes a face. “I swear I wasn’t trying to take over, Ethan. I was just, you know, excited to be part of such an amazing band. I never wanted you to quit. To be honest, it hasn’t been the same since you left.”

I try to swallow the giant lump in my throat. How I wish that were true.

“I really liked your song,” Lia says. “Especially that line in the chorus: ‘Kill your creativity with artificial stupidity.’ That was brilliant.”

Pride flutters in my chest. She actually remembers a line from my song?

“I appreciate that,” I say. “But you heard Rudy. He said my song has no soul.”

“That was the whole point, though, right? You were saying that robots are taking over our art, so you made your music sound robotic.”

Oh, man, this is blowing my mind. Why do I suddenly feel like the biggest jerk on the planet? Is it possible I’ve been wrong about Lia this whole time? She was the only one in the band who got my song—the only one who voted for it. I cringe when I think of all those times she asked me to jam with her. Why didn’t I say yes? Was I feeling that threatened by her? Maybe I couldn’t admit to myself that she might be better than me.

She’s gone back to staring at her computer with sad eyes.

I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but I have to make things right.

“Hey,” I say. “Would you like some help on your project?”

A smile lights up her whole face.

So… yeah. That happened. Funny how things change. Now Lia and I meet every day during lunch and work on our projects together.

Hers is a room for her cat, Whiskers. She got the idea because Whiskers has a lot of energy and is always climbing the curtains. The room she’s designing is basically a cat jungle gym. Whiskers could easily play there for hours and never even touch the floor. It’s kind of awesome.

While Lia and I work, we trade stories about our families. She fills me in on school gossip, and I give her the latest review of whatever I’m listening to at the moment. She even gives me some great ideas for my recording studio. The only things we don’t talk about are rock band and the upcoming Battle of the Bands.

Finally, it’s the day before we have to turn in our projects for Graphic Arts. As I walk to the library to meet Lia one last time, I’m sadder than ever. I hate to admit it, but I’m going to miss hanging out with her after this is over. Life without the band has been bleak, and she’s my last connection to them. But more than that, Lia has become my friend.

But when I walk through the door into the library, I get the biggest surprise of my life. The whole gang is there with Lia: Freddie, Willow, Rudy, and Mr. Arrowhead.

“Wh—what’s going on?” I stammer, dropping my backpack on the floor.

Rudy steps forward. “Look, Ethan, we owe you an apology. We heard what you’ve been doing for Lia, and—we’ve been wrong about you.”

“We thought your ego was getting too big for the band,” Willow says.

“But we talked it over,” Freddie says, “and Lia reminded us that we would have felt the same way if our positions had been threatened. Like if Lia had played bass—”

“Or drums,” Rudy cuts in. “We would have felt the same way.”

“But it’s easy to have two singer-guitarists,” Mr. Arrowhead says. “And there just so happens to be a spot open.”

I look around at my bandmates with hope in my heart. I can’t believe this. I’ve missed them so much, and now they’re giving me another chance. Not that I deserve it, with how I bailed out on them like that. Willow was right. My ego had gotten out of control.

But now I see how easy it could be for me to step to the side and share being lead singer-guitarist. Lia and I both have the talent for it, and our band will become better than ever before.

Together, we have a real shot at winning Battle of the Bands.

“I would be honored to come back,” I say.

Everyone cheers, but I think Lia’s the one who cheers the loudest.