Road Rash by Mark Huntley Parsons Read Free Book Online Page A

because sometimes good lyrics come from bad places.
    Anyway, I’d been there for half an hour, writing and then scratching out clichéd lines, when someone sat down in the other chair at my little table. I looked up. It was a girl from school that I barely knew. She’d been in one of my classes last year, but I couldn’t quite remember her name.
    “Hi,” she said. “You’re Zach, right? You play the drums?”
    I put down my pen and nodded. “Uh-huh. What’s up?” I was wondering if maybe she couldn’t find a seat and was asking if she could share my table. If that was the case, I was going to say,
Take it, I was just leaving
, because even though it’s sometimes cool to write in a public place, it’s a totally different story with someone sitting two feet in front of you sharing a table the size of a floor tom.
    But that wasn’t it. “My name’s Maria?” she said. I swear, that’s how it sounded, like a question. “We were in the same social studies class last year? Remember?”
    “Sure, I remember. How’s it going?”
    “Fine. I’m here with my friend Shannon? Sitting over there?”
    She pointed toward a girl at a table across the room.
    “Uh, okay …”
    “Well, we’ve been here for a while, watching you write or whatever you’re doing and, well, Shannon said she thinks you’re cute? So I told her I sort of knew you? Which was, like, a big mistake because she’s been, like, bugging me to come talk to you ever since?”
    I glanced over at Shannon. The funny thing was, she looked like the absolute stereotype of a rocker’s girlfriend—jet-black hair, dark eyeliner, red lipstick, black nail polish, the works. She smiled at me. I smiled back and turned to Maria. “Tell her I think she’s hot,” I said, “but I have a girlfriend. Thanks.”
    She got up from her chair. “Well, she can’t say I didn’t try. See ya around.”
    She went back to deliver the news while I sat there, surprised at myself. Again. Things like that did
not
happen everyday. Not to me. And she
was
hot, in a skanky sort of way. And I’d just told her thanks but no thanks. WTF was up with that?
    I looked at my watch: 10:15. Whoa. I tried to remember if I’d told my parents where I was going, but then I figured if they were worried, they would have just—
Oops
. I looked down and sure enough, my phone was silent. I’d silenced it when I went into the movies and forgot to turn it back up. There were four missed calls and two messages. Uh-oh.
    I punched up the first message.
    Hey, Zach, it’s Glenn. Glenn Taylor. Listen, we’re in kind of a bind and I was hoping maybe you could help us out. We have a gig tonight and Nate is … well, let’s just say he’s in no condition to play. Let’s see … it’s about seven o’clock now and we go on at nine. His drums are already at the gig, so you wouldn’t have to bring yours. So if you wouldn’t mind, please give me a call back at this number when you get my message. I’d really like to work with you, but I’ve got to get a drummer for tonight one way or another, so I’m going to keep looking. Take care, man.…
    Beeeeep …
    Hey, Zach. It’s Glenn again. It’s eight-fifteen and I’ve found someone who’s available to do the gig, so I’m going with him. Thanks anyway. Take care
.
    Holy crap.… When I was at the movies watching the fictional life of some fictional guy in some fictional band, living in a
totally
fictional world, I could have been getting ready to do a real gig with one of the best real bands in the area.
    For a drummer I sure had lousy timing.
    So I left Glenn a message saying I was sorry I missed himand I hoped we could get together to play sometime, and then I went home to sulk. At least, that was the plan. My dad had other ideas.…
    “Where were you?” he asked as soon as I walked in the door.
    “The movies.”
    “You need to let me know where you’re going if you go out at night. You know that. Anyway, someone called and I wasn’t