Rock Star by Adrian Chamberlain Read Free Book Online

let him go. That’s how kids wear their hair these days,” says Terry finally.
    Uh-oh. Dad hates it when anyone contradicts him like that. Now I’ve gone from butterflies to feeling scared.
    “Terry,” says Dad, not looking at her. “Please be quiet. I’m trying to set boundaries for my son.”
    Terry’s face kind of changes. I wish Dad hadn’t said that to her.
    “Go—comb—your—hair,” he says to me again.
    “No,” I say. And I grab my bass and walk out the front door. On the sidewalk I wait for Jason. His mom’s giving me and Jennifer a ride to the party. The wind’s cold, even icy, but that’s okay because my face is all hot now, like someone slapped me. I keep thinking Dad’s going to come out and make me stay home. But he doesn’t. Loud voices are coming from our house. I feel awful and wish none of the last ten minutes had happened.
    I see headlights, and a Range Rover pulls up. It’s Jason, his mom and Jennifer.
    I throw my gear in the back, tumble in and feel in my pocket for the address, scribbled on a piece of paper. The tricky thing is, I want Jason’s mom to drop us off a block away, rather than right at the door. That way no one will know we don’t drive, and that one of our moms had to give us a ride. So it won’t look so lame and all.
    “You can drop us off here, Mrs. Richmond,” I say. “Thanks for the ride. Appreciate it.”
    “That’s not the address,” says Jason.
    “Shut up,” I whisper. “We can’t let your mom drop us off right at the front door. We’ll look like total dorks.”
    Jason gives me a dirty look. “Oh, man,” he hisses. “Not this stuff again. It’s like you’re ashamed of us or something.”
    “No, I’m not,” I say. “It’s just…oh, just shut up, Jason, for Christ’s sake.”
    Jason is pissed. Jennifer looks at us both, sighs a little sigh, but doesn’t say anything. I don’t know if she overheard. It’s hard to read her face. She’s all dressed up for the party, in a black dress that’s kind of glittery. She looks really awesome, if you want to know the truth. I can’t believe she’s going to a real party with me.
    We walk up the block. The wind is like ice needles. I shiver in my jean jacket. Jennifer doesn’t even have a jacket on—maybe it was a stupid idea to get dropped off so far away. I offer her my jacket, but she says no. It’s dark now, and the street numbers are hard to make out. It’s a pretty crummy area. The kind of street where people park their stupid big-wheel pickups in the middle of their chewed-up front lawns.
    Some guys wearing hoodies suddenly run in our direction. They brush by, and one bumps my bass guitar case.
    “Hey, watch it man,” I say without thinking.
    He stops, turns slowly around and walks back to us. I feel my stomach fall. Oh crap. What now?
    “What’s your problem, kid?” he says. He’s about twenty, with a face full of pimples and a homemade tattoo of a cross on his neck.
    “No problem. Sorry. You just, you know…you knocked into my guitar case.”
    The guy just keeps staring at me, like he hates me or something. Then one of his friends shouts out, “Hey, Pig-man, come on. We’re gonna be late!”
    Pig-man looks over his shoulder at his friend, then back at me. He says, “Just watch it, punk.” And then he takes off.
    “Jesus,” says Jason. Jennifer takes my arm and shivers a big body shiver. Is she cold or scared? I look at the number of the house in front of us. This is it.
    Oh god.
    This place makes Houston’s house and the Primal Thunk practice space look like Donald Trump’s mansion. There are motorbikes parked in the front yard with guys sitting on them, drinking beer. Some I recognize, but I’m not sure. Some of them look older, like in their twenties. The front door of the house is open, and there’s loud thumping rock music coming out.
    A girl in a purple tank top stumbles up the front path toward us.
    “Are you Tom?” she said, grabbing my arm. “Tommy? Are you