Born to Rock by Gordon Korman Read Free Book Online

that had swelled inside me as I’d sat opposite Mr. Borman, stiffening my jaw as well as my resolve. Only this time, McMurphy had a face—ferocious eyes blazing beneath a punk haircut.
    I bit my lip. This was probably not a good time to bring up King Maggot again.
    I moved through the halls of that school like I’d never seen the place before. I could barely walk in a straight line. I wasn’t drunk. It was just that my life had suddenly become entirely devoid of direction. I felt like a guy who had just been released from prison after serving a fifty-year term. This was not my planet.
    The planet may have been different, but the local aliens were still the usual suspects.
    â€œLeo! Leo! ” Melinda came pounding down the hall, her layers of black on black flowing behind her like the cape of the vampire Lestat. “You’re never going to believe this! It’s the greatest thing that ever could have happened!”
    I made a split-second decision then and there: I would tell no one that I wasn’t going to Harvard. I couldn’t face the questions and I couldn’t face the sympathy. People might get suspicious in September when they saw me still working my summer gig at Dad’s hardware store, but they weren’t going to hear the news from me.
    â€œWhat’s up?”
    â€œGuess who’s headlining the Concussed World Tour this summer?”
    â€œThe what ?”
    She was disgusted. “Concussed, Leo. They have it every year. It’s a traveling all-day festival of punk, hardcore, ska, and heavy metal. You’re going to die when you hear the news: Purge is getting back together to do the tour—all the original band members!”
    It should have made a big impression on me—the fact that my biological father was about to slither out from whatever rock he’d been hiding under since 1990. I’d never really thought of him as a today person. He was just a guy who, eighteen years ago, made some terrible music and got my mother pregnant. The fact that all his fame was from the ’80s only seemed to reinforce the idea that he existed in the past.
    Now he was going to resurface.
    Before yesterday, that would have been front-page news. But now, with my life in shards around my feet, I had no interest whatsoever in seeing the mysterious King Maggot in action. If Purge had been staging their reunion in our backyard, I wouldn’t have lifted the blind to check it out. Losing Harvard had done that much for me. McMurphy couldn’t hold me for ransom anymore. There was nothing left for me to lose.
    Anyway, your real father wasn’t the one who provided the genetic material. He was the one who was willing to get on the phone and call Rosalie McAllister Black an “unreasonable, heartless old bag.” Dad was a real pit bull; Mom too. And even though it hadn’t changed anything, it was some consolation to have two people so ardently on my side.
    I felt a surge of resentment toward Melinda for interrupting the end of the world to supply me with this useless information. That might have explained why I snapped at her the way I did.
    â€œWhat makes you think I care?”
    She looked at me as if I’d slapped her.
    â€œI’ve got news for you, Melinda. Purge sucks! All punk sucks! It’s stupid, pointless noise!” It was the first time I’d raised my voice since opening the McAllister letter. It felt good to let the anger out, even if it was being directed at the wrong person. “Look at you—you’ve based your whole life on it! What does that say about you ?”
    I’d seen her deck goth-hating jocks in a single blow, with the silver studs of her dog-collar bracelet pulled up onto her knuckles. But when she punched me, it was barely a tap on the shoulder with the soft leather part. It hurt far worse than a home run swing, because I knew how much my words must have upset her. She expected to take grief from the