The BEDMAS Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF Page B

argued successfully. “Think of it as a B with decorations.”
    But even better than my grades was the fact that Sludge had turned out to be a genius at song-writing. He’d written “Detention Blues” overnight and we had been practicing it ever since.
    â€œI’m not sure about this,” Daniela confided to me at first. “Did you notice the lyrics?”
    She sang them to me:
    I’m just a girl with flaming red hair
Singing to you that things aren’t fair.
Falling for a guy from the wrong side of the ‘hood
Between us, many weeks of detention stood.
After school I was free as a bird
But he was trapped until December 3 rd .
    The Detention Blues, oh so blue
And you’re also grounded, too.
    Pulling the fire alarm wasn’t so bad.
The principal shouldn’t have been so mad.
Maybe he can cut your sentence short
If you write an eight-page book report.
    The Detention Blues, oh so blue
And you’re also grounded, too.
    Maybe you’ll get out at the end of May
And then we can go to a nice café.
    â€œHe wrote a love song about me!” Daniela concluded, sounding a little alarmed.
    â€œYou don’t know it’s about you. Sure, you have red hair, but there are a couple of strawberry-blondes in our school,” I pointed out. “And, yes, maybe Sludge served a lengthy stint in detention last year for pulling a false fire alarm, but I heard he had a few accomplices. Maybe the song is about one of them? One of them and Nat Caplan? She is sort of red-haired-ish if you look closely at her highlights.”
    Daniela was still reluctant. “I don’t know if I can go in front of the school and sing a love song about me and Sludge.”
    But, after practicing the song a few times with the whole band behind her, Daniela had to admit the song was special. The melody was perfect for her low voice and the chorus was stick-in-your-head catchy. Sludge had written a kicking solo for Meena and a simple piano part I could cope with easily enough. Even my siblings thought we sounded good.
    â€œKeep practicing—you’ll be fine,” said Josh.
    â€œNot awful!” agreed Abigail.
    Sludge had done some stealth scouting. “I heard the Flying Perogies jamming and they sound pretty tight. And we need to watch out for Marty Jenkins, the Swedish Meatball. Competitive eating is always a hit with the audience.”
    We decided to up our practices to four times a week.
    â€œAre you sure you’ll be able to keep on top of your schoolwork?” asked Daniela doubtfully.
    â€œLet me worry about that,” I told her. “ You just worry about hitting those high notes at the end of the song.”
    The competition was right around the corner. I was doing my best to clear my mind of guitars and amps and focus on numbers and letters. But it was a struggle.

O n the morning of the competition, something about Daniela just didn’t seem right. First, I heard retching noises in the bathroom, followed by a long flush of the toilet. She looked pale as she went into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.
    â€œYou can do it. You’ll be fine,” I thought I heard someone say to her. But when I opened the door, Daniela was alone.
    The plan was for the band to wear coordinated outfits. The Z’s agreed to drop the mauve and the blue so we would all be dressed alike in black pants and funky tuxedo t-shirts.
    â€œDaniela, your t-shirt is on backwards,” said my mother as we came down for breakfast. She started to pour six glasses of juice.
    â€œNo breakfast for me, Aunt Elisha. I’m not hungry. I’ll just meet you guys in the car,” said Daniela as she went to fix her t-shirt. Her legs seemed wobbly as she left the room.
    She didn’t say more than two words during the drive to J.R. Wilcott. When we arrived, we went straight to the gym. The bands in the talent show were allowed to perform a sound check. The Z’s were already