Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(56)

We enter the chorus room and head toward the music offices.

Mr. Grossman is sitting at his desk reading the newspaper and drinking tea.

“Knock, knock,” I say, sticking my head inside.

He looks up from his paper and sighs. “You’re interrupting my ‘me’ time. This better be important.”

The three of us step inside his mess of an office. Books, magazines, and a trillion CDs stacked up everywhere. Spilling out of every shelf of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. I thought I was into music. We better hope to hell he hands over the demo because there’s no way we’re going to find it in here ourselves. I can tell by the look in Matt’s and Sean’s eyes that they’re thinking the exact same thing.

“We need our Battle of the Bands demo back,” I say.

“Is that so?” Mr. Grossman asks. “And why is that, pray tell?”

“My computer’s hard drive died. So now you’ve got the only copy. There are a few places around town who are interested in us playing some gigs. But they wanted to hear something first.”

“Yeah,” Sean adds, for no reason.

“I’m afraid we don’t return demos,” Mr. Grossman says. “It states that specifically in the entry form you filled out and signed. Sorry.” He lifts his newspaper as if that’s the end of the discussion.

“We know about that,” I say. “We were just hoping you might make an exception in this case.”

Mr. Grossman lowers his newspaper again. “And why would I do that?”

“Because of what I told you. My hard drive —”

“Yes, yes. You said that already. But I don’t understand. Why not just make another demo? Your band is rehearsing, is it not?” He glares at Matt and Sean accusingly. “Just record one of your rehearsals.”

“Yeah, we could, I guess,” I say. “But the demo you have was recorded in a studio. That we rented. And we don’t have the money to do that again.”

Sean and Matt nod their heads in agreement.

Mr. Grossman folds up his paper and places it to one side. “Do you have any idea why we hold on to the demos?” He addresses his question to Sean, who just shakes his head. “Well,” he tents his fingers, “in the past, we’ve had some issues.”

I can feel Matt’s and Sean’s rising panic. “Issues?” I say.

“Perhaps you’re aware that we’ve already suspended a group of students for submitting a demo that was not, shall we say, thoroughly authentic. It might surprise you to learn that this is not the first time something like this has occurred.”

“Seriously?” I lace my voice with what I hope is genuine indignation.

“And because of this,” Mr. Grossman goes on, “prior to the competition, the judges listen to the CDs for a second time. Then, if there are any glaring discrepancies between the band’s performance and what has been presented to us on the demos, we can take appropriate action.”

Sean gulps but I pretend he didn’t. Have to keep a calm front.

“That’s chill,” I say. “So, we’ll just borrow the demo, make a copy, then return it to you first thing tomorrow.”

Mr. Grossman exhales heavily and waves his hands around. “Never mind.” He pulls out one of his desk drawers, rummages around, and removes our demo. “Here. Take it.”

I look over at Matt and Sean, then reach out and slide the CD from Mr. Grossman’s fingers. Talk about easy. “Thanks.”

“Think nothing of it,” he says.

I hold the CD up. “We’ll get this back to you then. In a couple of days?”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” Mr. Grossman sips his tea. “Mrs. Ward, Mr. Blonsky, and Ms. Hosie all have duplicates. I’ll just send one of theirs down to AV.”





“STICK A MEAT THERMOMETER up our butts,” Sean says, all twitchy. “’Cause we’re done.”

“First of all, dude, don’t ever say that again.” Christ. He hasn’t shut up about the demo all morning. “Second of all, I’ll figure it out.”

I open the door to SaveMore Drugs and usher my buds inside. I’ve convinced the guys to come to the drugstore with me during lunch so we can pick up a few things I think will help pimp our rock-and-roll image: teeth whitener, tanning spray, hair color, hair gel, aftershave. I had to sell one of my iPods and a whole whack of old comics to raise the cash for all this stuff, but it’s important we look our very best for performance night.

And while we’re at it, I fig I can grab some of the contraceptives I promised to get for the Health project.

Sean’s jaw pulses as we cruise the aisles. “I seriously think Mr. Grossman knows.”

“He doesn’t know,” I say. “If he knew he would have called us out right there.”

“Here’s the teeth whitener,” Matt says, pointing to a shelf.

“Later.” I stride right by the oral hygiene racks and turn down the next aisle to find the Family Planning section. I stop and stand before a giant wall of colorful condom boxes, tubes of lubricants, and pregnancy tests.

“What are you doing?” Sean asks. “I thought you said we came for grooming products?”

“I need to get a few things for my Health project first.”