Rock Star by Adrian Chamberlain Read Free Book Online Page A

Tom?”
    Yikes. She sinks down at our feet, all crumpled. She has dyed blond hair with black roots. The guys sitting on the motorbikes start laughing at her. I kneel beside her. I don’t know what to do, so I hold her hand, which feels clammy. She seems okay though. I mean, she’s breathing and everything. Just passed out. I help her into a lawn chair near the front door.
    “Duncan?” says Jennifer. Her face looks scared.
    “Don’t worry guys , ” I say. “Everything’s cool. Let’s go in.”
    I’m trying to act confident, but to be honest, I feel scared. What kind of a party is this, anyway? Who are these biker guys?
    The place is stuffed with people. We have to squeeze by to get through the front hall. I think I recognize some kids from high school, but no one I’ve ever talked to before.
    The living room is crowded too. It smells funny, like rancid milk. The stereo’s so loud you can’t talk—it’s a punk song, with the singer screaming “Everybody gonna die now!” over and over. If this was a movie or a TV show, I’d laugh. But it’s not.
    I look at Jennifer and instantly regret bringing her to something like this. Her shoulders are hunched up like she doesn’t want anyone here to touch her. Her body language says, “Get me out of here.” Jason looks at me and opens his eyes wide, as if to say, “What the heck?”
    “Hey, who’s this douche?” says a ratty-looking short guy in a flannel shirt. “Did your momma dress you, boy?”
    He’s talking to Jason. Jason is dressed kind of weird, especially for someone going to a party. He has a short-sleeved shirt on, buttoned right to the neck. The shirt’s pattern is old-fashioned cars. And he’s wearing a pair of khakis. It looks like he should be manning the sugar-cookie booth at a church fair.
    “Who invited this jerk to the party?” says the ratty guy. He blows smoke from his cigarette in Jason’s face, like some actor from a gangster movie.
    Jason coughs. “Smoking will kill you,” he says.
    “What?” Ratty moves toward Jason a little, sticking out his chin like he wants to fight.
    “Jason.” I yell it into his ear, because someone’s cranked up that stupid punk song even louder. “Don’t even talk to him.”
    At that moment, Jennifer kind of starts and lets out a little yip. I look over, and Ratty jumps back. He’s grinning. I just know he’s groped her or something like that.
    “Hey, dude, you made it!” It’s Grant, holding out his hand and smiling like he’s Hugh Hefner at the Playboy mansion. He seems different, like he’s blurry or something. Maybe it’s just me. This is turning out to be one very weird night.
    “This your woman?” he says, pointing at Jennifer with his beer. He ignores Jason.
    “This is Jennifer,” I say. She smiles and holds out her hand, even though she was probably groped five seconds ago. Jennifer’s always nice to people. Maybe this party will work out after all. Grant smiles again and nods.
    The band already brought all the gear over, including the bass amp, so I don’t have much to set up. I was hoping we’d have more time before Primal Thunk played, just so Jason, Jennifer and I could hang out a little. But Grant looks at his watch, burps and says, “Okay, 9:00 pm. We’re supposed to… we’re supposed to play now. So let’s get started, boys.”
    The drummer clicks his sticks four times over his head, and we’re off. The music’s really rehearsed, I’ve gotta admit. But it’s like the volume is way louder than we usually play it. I must have missed the meeting where everyone agreed we’d crank the volume up to eleven. After the first tune, I rip the corner off my set list and make a set of earplugs with the rolled-up paper.
    Still, it’s going over pretty well. I can’t see Jennifer or Jason. The floor in front of us is full of people dancing. A good sign. Actually, they’re just jumping up and down. Mostly guys—including some of the biker dudes. A superhairy no-shirt guy