Plunked Read Online Free Page B

if he’s your friend. I don’t know if that’s the way the world works, too, or if it’s just sixth grade.
    Anyway, we start to bust on him about the Mexican Surprise. That probably isn’t cool of us, but it doesn’t matter.
    â€œMy parents are from Ecuador,” says Chester. “Don’t be so ignorant.”
    â€œCome on,” says Andy, drawing a line from Tim to me with his finger. “You know these two can’t help it.”
    â€œChuhhh,” says Tim. “You, like, aspire to be ignorant.”
    Andy makes a far-off expression with his face and goes, “Someday…”
    We laugh, and then we start talking about the team, our team. That’s always going to happen when the four of us are together.

It’s Monday night and my parents are going to an Awesome Eighties concert at the Atheneum. It’s a forty-five-minute or thirty-year drive from here, depending on how you look at it. The show features not one, not two, but three bands I know nothing about. The funniest thing about it is seeing my parents getting all dressed up. My mom has one ancient can of hair spray that she pretty much only uses for things like this.
    FFFshhhhhFFFFFshhhh! I hear through the partially open bathroom door.
    Mom emerges from the bathroom with a hair cliff above her forehead and a faded T-shirt that says “The Go-Go’s” on it. Her sneakers could not be any pinker.
    â€œLookin’ good, Mom,” I say, giving her a weak thumbs-up.
    â€œThanks,” she says. “I’ve got the beat!”
    It’s doubtful, but I don’t say so. Then I turn the corner and see Dad in a polo shirt the color of pistachio ice cream — or the insides of that one kind of squashed caterpillar. He has the tip of each side of his collar pinched between the thumb and first finger of his hands. “What do you think,” he says, “up or down?”
    â€œOh, Dad,” I say, shaking my head.
    A moment later, Mom comes around the corner.
    â€œUp or down?” he repeats.
    â€œPop it!” she says.
    He raises the collar up so that it’s like the top of a squashed-caterpillar-green cape.
    â€œI’ll be in the car,” I say.
    I’m not going to the show. I mean, can you imagine? They’re dropping me off at Andy’s. We’re going to “do homework” while they listen to “rock and roll.” When we get there, Andy’s mom makes a big fuss about their outfits.
    â€œIt’s so dramatic!” she says, reaching out and lightly touching Mom’s hair cliff.
    â€œThanks, Siobhan,” says Mom. “It’s more dramatic now. I forgot and had the window down for a few blocks.”
    â€œStill,” says Andy’s mom. She turns to Dad. “And who’s this young buck?”
    Andy appears behind her, just inside the door.
    â€œExcuse me,” I say, and duck past.
    â€œWhat took you so long?” I say once we’re inside. “I almost died out there!”
    â€œSorry,” he says. “I was preparing myself. You know, mentally.”
    As we head for the living room we pass Andy’s dad heading toward the door.
    â€œHi, Mr. Rossiter,” I say.
    â€œHi-Jack!” he says. It’s his standard joke for me. When he holds up both hands for the pretend hijacking, I can see that he’s wearing his Kings of Country tour T-shirt. I’m pretty sure that’s not a coincidence.
    â€œGuess I’d better go be neighborly,” he says, even though we’re not really neighbors.
    â€œIt’s not pretty,” I say.
    â€œThe eighties weren’t,” he says.
    By the time Andy and I hear my parents drive away, we’re settled in at the living room table. We have our books open and look just like we would if we were doing homework. His parents duck their heads in and look just like they would if they believed us.
    â€œWe’ll leave you two scholars