Battle of the Bands Read Online Free PDF

is a really big deal.
    Meh. What else? I look up and there’s a jet cruising overhead. Think, Jay, think. Let’s see. Nope. Nada. Zip. No new song. Instead I wonder where those people are going. Wonder if there’s a terrorist on board who will blow them out of the sky. What is with those terrorist losers anyway? What does it prove, blowing stuff up? It just makes the rest of usthink they’re totally bent. So maybe they have some kind of cause, but who wants to listen to crazy killers? I mean, I can see where they might have some problems with the way things are. Who doesn’t? But killing people because of that?
    I’m not exactly happy with everything myself. I think the way the world runs is rotten in a lot of ways. So many people want to tell you how to live your life. Rich people are getting richer on the backs of the poor, making kids work in factories. Imagine that, little kids in Third World countries working all day for almost nothing, making stuff like runners.
    Who told me about that? My humanities teacher? It’s bad news because I’m looking at my feet and there’s a pair of runners. They’re pretty nice ones too, a popular brand. Damn. I sit down with my back against a tree and pull off my shoes. I’m checking them out, wondering about how they were put together, when someone says, “Are you stalking me or what?”
    It’s Rowan. I gape at her for at least ten seconds and then say, “Huh?” So lame.
    â€œI asked if you’re stalking me.”
    She’s sure got a high opinion of herself. I hold up one of my shoes. “Does it look like I’m stalking?”
    She grins and tilts her head. Her shiny black hair slides across her face. I’d like to touch that hair. “So what are you doing here?” she asks.
    I’ve recovered enough to say something intelligent. “We’d all like to know the answer to that question, wouldn’t we? The best minds on the planet have been considering that very thing since the dawn of life.”
    â€œI doubt it.”
    â€œCome on. That’s the big question of existence.”
    â€œYeah, but since the dawn of life?” she says. “I don’t think single-celled organisms were asking what they’re doing here. Besides, you know that’s not what I meant. I want to know what you’re doing sitting in front of my house.”
    â€œHuh?” I say again. I look around. The house behind me doesn’t have the right address. But the house almost straight across the street does. Figures. Stop paying attention for five minutes and wham. The universe gets you. Why is it that any flukes being handed out are never in my favor? I keep my eyes wandering, then shrug and try to sound bored. “So which place is yours?”
    She points. “That one. Are you telling me you didn’t know?”
    â€œWhy would I know that?”
    â€œHmm,” she says. “Okay. Maybe you can tell me why you took your shoes off.”
    I shake my head. “Sorry. That information is top secret.”
    She considers this for a moment, keeps watching me with her blue eyes. She looks disappointed. Finally she mutters, “Fine.” And she starts walking.
    â€œWait!” I scramble to my feet, start hopping up and down, trying to get a shoe back on.
    She stops.
    â€œI was just trying to see how they’re made.”
    Rowan looks back and it’s hard to read her expression. “Why?”
    I’m nervous now. Or should I say more nervous? I have the feeling that my answer is important. I think about making something up, like I’m planning to be a shoe designer when I get out of school. But a trace of impatience shows on her face and I blurt out the truth. “Because of the kids in the factories. I was trying to understand what it feels like, making shoes all day.”
    â€œReally?” she says.
    â€œYeah.”
    She walks back and does that