Power Chord by Ted Staunton Page A

brother wants his drums at school anyway.” He hoists the snare and cymbals.
    â€œBut,” I say again, “but…”
    It’s over. Just like that. Incoming is outgoing.
    Pig doesn’t stay to watch the rest of the bands. He has cadet training camp early Saturday morning. Denny goes to find the video girls. He says I should come too. I shake my head and put my bass away. There are no props this time.
    The next band isn’t even finished, and my band is done for good. I have had the shortest music career ever. All that’s left is jamming with a bald real estate agent who wears dumb hats and redates my mom.
    I sink down by my case and lean against the wall. Music bounces around me, but I don’t take it in. I’m staring at the floor tiles when I see the toes of two soft boots. Oh. No. It’s the person I least want to see after I’ve looked like a total idiot.
    Lisa sits down beside me. “Hi,” she says.
    â€œHi.” I nod to the stage and say, “They’re good.” As if I’m listening.
    Lisa says, “Yeah. We weren’t. We sucked.”
    â€œTell me about it,” I say back, and shrug. “At least—never mind. I liked your song.”
    â€œThanks,” she says.
    I wait for her to say she liked mine, but she doesn’t.
    After a bit I say, “How come you changed your song? I liked it better as a rocker.” I did, but I guess I’m also bugged she didn’t say anything about my song.
    â€œI did too,” she says. “But the band wanted to do it that way. And Grant couldn’t play the bass line you showed me.”
    â€œThat’s a drag,” I say.
    Lisa nods. “Same with yours,” she says. “No offence, but your guitar player should have sung, and you could have rocked out on bass.”
    I nod. “Well,” I say, “he didn’t learn it, so I had to do it. It doesn’t matter. I know I’ve gotta change the words more. It’s still not very good.” I wrap my arms around my knees. “And anyway, it really doesn’t matter. The band just broke up.”
    Lisa nods and says, “Mine too.”
    I look at her. “Your band broke up? Why?”
    She sighs, then tucks her hair behind her ear and says, “’Cause we sucked and I said so, and nobody but me wanted to practice more so we wouldn’t suck.”
    I think that over as a song ends. Maybe it’s my night for saying things. I look at Lisa. Then I look a little bit to one side of her, as if I’m thinking deep thoughts. “We’ve got guitar, vocal and bass,” I say. Deep breath. “Um, maybe we should start a band.”
    I dare a look at her.
    She’s smiling. Lisa says, “I think we just did.”

Since the publication of his first picturebook, Puddleman , in 1988, Ted Staunton has been delighting readers of all ages with his funny and perceptive stories about friends, family and school life. Ted is a frequent speaker and performer at schools, libraries and conferences across Canada and teaches fiction writing at George Brown College. Ted and his family live in Port Hope, Ontario.

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    Fifteen-year-old Maddie has big-city dreams, and she’s found her chance to visit New York. An art magazine is holding a portrait contest, and the first prize is an all-expenses-paid trip to the Big Apple. Maddie plans to win, but her mother has different ideas for her: a mother-daughter adventure in organic gardening. Maddie is furious. How will