Out of Tune: Wynter Wild Book 2 by Sara Creasy

Author:Sara Creasy [Creasy, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-19T23:00:00+00:00

Scam

Wynter walked into Wednesday’s rehearsal holding a yellow flyer from the noticeboard right outside the room.

“Did anyone see this? Auditions in one month to play at the junior high graduation ceremony. We’re gonna do this!”

“One month?” Ethan gave the others an anxious look. “Will we be ready? I was thinking maybe we could put on a summer concert after school breaks up.”

Wynter would be in Greece after school broke up. “No, we’re doing this. They’re picking three winners, one of which will be the Clockwork Toys. That’ll be our summer concert.”

“Can we do the Beatles songs?”

They’d picked two Beatles songs for the upcoming retirement home performance, but they were working on half a dozen others as well. The individual practice sessions had been a success and Wynter was proud of her little group. Icing on the cake had been Hunter declaring Indio’s logo “not lame”. Indio had sent through a file of the design and Wynter got it printed on card at the print shop, large enough to cut into a circle to fit onto the kick drum.

“No way I’m playing the Beatles in front of the whole school,” Hunter said. “That’s not cool. We’ll do Green Day. We’ll do Guns N’ Roses, obviously. Maybe Joan Jett. Wynter’s not bad on that one.”

“We’ll do our best songs,” Wynter said. “I agree though, not the Beatles. And not Sweet Child if you can’t nail it. Obviously.”

“I’m gonna play it for you right now,” Hunter announced.

“Okay. I’ll play rhythm and sing. Let’s see how far we get.”

Hunter looked confident and, more importantly, his brow was drawn low in concentration. He started the intro—smoother than last time but it wasn’t great. Wynter was pleased when Arthur joined in, unasked, with a nice rock beat after sixteen bars. They petered out eight bars later because Wynter wasn’t going to start the vocals when it was clear it wasn’t going to work.

Hunter read the bad news in her expression.

“You’re not even keeping time.” No point tearing apart the rest of it when the most important part was wrong. “We’re a band, a team. You need to listen to Arthur.”

Hunter gave Arthur a reflexive sneer, before turning it into a sheepish grin for Wynter. “My mom says I’m a bit out there when my blood sugar’s high.”

“Is your blood sugar high?”

“Sure is. I’m still getting through my Easter candy. Three weeks straight eating pretty much nothing but sugar. Let me play the solo. Told you, I rock the s—”

“If you can’t do the main riff,” Wynter said, “I don’t care about the solo.”

Hunter huffed with agitation. “You try playing it perfectly! Jeez!”

Wynter put her acoustic down and held out her hand for his guitar. He smirked and handed it over. She switched to the neck pickup because he hadn’t even figured that out—he really didn’t know what he was doing half the time—and she played the intro. At the ashram she’d figured it out from memory, working out the fingering in her head and then quietly on the guitar when she had the chance in between rehearsals for prayer meetings.

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