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supposed to. But it wasn’t until Ms. Medina started going over the material for tomorrow’s test that I realized I was in deep trouble. I didn’t understand what the heck we were doing. I mean, seriously, it was like Ms. Medina was suddenly talking in a made-up language that everyone else in class seemed to understand but me.
Gadda badda quotient. Patta beeboo divisor.
At the end of class, she offered to meet with any kids who needed a little extra help studying right after school.
Um, that would be me, thank you!
But I had band practice then, so I couldn’t go.
    I raced down to the auditorium right after dismissal. The after-school rock band meets every Monday and Tuesday afternoon. I had only joined a few months ago, at the beginning of the spring semester, but I was really into it. I’d been taking guitar lessons since last summer, and my dad, who’s a really good guitar player, had been teaching me all these great guitar licks. So when
Santa
gave me an electric guitar for Christmas, I figured I was ready to join the after-school rock band. I was a little nervous in the beginning. I knew the three guys who were already in the band were really good musicians. But then I found out there was a fourth grader named John who was also joining the band in the spring semester, so I knew I wouldn’t be the only new kid. John played guitar, too. He wore John Lennon glasses.
    The other three guys in the band were Ennio, who plays the drums and is considered to be this prodigy drummer, Harry on lead guitar, and Elijah on bass guitar. Elijah’s also the lead singer, and he’s kind of the leader of the band. The three of them are all in the sixth grade. They’ve been in the after-school rock band since they were in the fourth grade, so they’re a pretty tight group.
    I can’t say they were thrilled when John and I first joined the band. Not that they weren’t
nice,
but they weren’t
nice
nice. They didn’t treat us like we were equal members of the band. It was pretty obvious that they didn’t think we played as well as they did—and, to be truthful, we really didn’t. But still, we were trying really hard to get better.
    “So, Mr. B,” Elijah said after we had all jammed on our own a bit. “We’re thinking we want to play ‘Seven Nation Army’ for the spring concert on Wednesday.”
    Mr. Bowles was the after-school rock band adviser. He had gray hair that he kept in a ponytail, and had been a member of a famous folk-rock band in the ’80s that my dad, for one, had never heard of. But Mr. Bowles was super nice, and he was always trying to get the other guys to include me and John. This, of course, just got the other guys even more annoyed at us. And it also made them really dislike Mr. Bowles. They made fun of the way he sometimes talked with his eyes closed. They made fun of his ponytail and his taste in music.
    “ ‘Seven Nation Army’?” answered Mr. Bowles, like he was impressed by the song choice. “That’s an awesome song, Elijah.”
    “Is that by Europe, too?” John asked, since we’d all agreed a few weeks ago—after much arguing—to play “The Final Countdown” by Europe at the spring concert.
    Elijah snickered and made a face. “Dude,” he answered, not looking at John or me. “It’s the White Stripes.”
    Elijah had long blond hair that he was really good at talking through.
    “Never heard of them!” John said cheerfully, which I wished he hadn’t said. Truth is, I hadn’t heard of them, either, but I knew enough to pretend I knew them—at least until I could download the song tonight. John wasn’t so great at the social stuff that goes on inside a rock band. Lots of group dynamic stuff to sort out. You have to kind of just nod and go along if you want to fit in. Then again, John wasn’t very good at fitting in that way.
    Elijah laughed and turned around to tune his guitar.
    John looked at me over his little round glasses and made an “Is it me, or are they crazy?” face.
    I