Thunderbowl Read Online Free Page B

wheel. But she still had her foot downon the gas. In a panic I reached for the ignition key, yanked it hard and pulled it out.
    We were back on the sidewalk now and headed for the street. The car sputtered to a stop.
    Suzanne hung her head. I thought she was going to cry. I was too mad to try and be nice to her.
    â€œThat was stupid” was all I could say. I was still holding her key chain. The keys felt warm in my hand.
    I opened the door and got out.
    â€œGive me my keys back so we can get out of here,” she insisted.
    â€œForget it!” I hollered. I threw them as far as I could off into the dark night.
    Then I started walking.

Chapter Eight
    I thought I wouldn’t want to see Suzanne again. But when she didn’t show the next night at The Dungeon, I phoned her house. There was no answer, even though I tried about twenty times.
    My playing wasn’t so good. I hit some wrong chords in the middle of “Ugly Intruder.” At one point I nearly stumbled off the stage.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with you?” Al asked me.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “I guess I don’t feel inspired.”
    â€œInspired? Bull. Forget the girl. Get into the music.” Al looked over at Drek. “Kids today… I don’t know what gets into ‘em,” he said, shaking his head.
    I looked around at the packed house. We had a reputation. We were just about the hottest band in town. Drek said it was time to cut a demo with our own money. We had lots of our own material. But I didn’t think we were ready. And I wanted to hold onto some of the money I’d made. I looked out at the crowd again and around at the faces. Something was missing. Suzanne wasn’t there.
    Then I spotted a familiar face. Langford! My English teacher was here at The Dungeon! He was looking at me. He waved. I pretended I didn’t see him.
    â€œCome on, Germ. Stop daydreaming. We have work to play,” Drek reminded me.
    Al leaned across his drums and whispered, “Get inspired.”
    So I got inspired. I wanted Langford to know why I was thinking about quitting school. He wasn’t such a bad guy. He deserved to know the truth.
    I dug deep in my pocket for my favorite guitar pick. I closed my eyes and I let myself climb way inside the music. The old me was back. With my guitar I was off into deep space.
    At the end of the set, Langford was standing beside the stage clapping. “We need to talk, Jeremy,” he said.
    â€œI don’t know if there’s anything else I have to say. You can see the whole story.”
    â€œCome on,” he said. “Just give me a minute.”
    I could see he was not going to give up that easily. We sat down at a table. The waiter brought us each a beer, but I didn’t touch mine. Mr. Langford looked worried. He smiled at me. “That was fantasticmusic, Jeremy. I can see why you want to quit school. I played bass in a rock band when I was younger. It was 1969. We even opened for the Grateful Dead once.”
    â€œNo kidding?” I said, forgetting I was talking to my English teacher.
    â€œNo kidding,” Langford repeated. “But that’s ancient history. I just wanted you to know that I know what it feels like. But you should still stay in school. You will have plenty of time for music when you graduate. Don’t throw everything away for this.”
    Now I felt uncomfortable. “Did you come here to hassle me or hear the band play?”
    Langford threw his hands up in the air, but kept on talking.
    What I didn’t know then was that Richie Gregg had been right behind us. He was playing spy and playing dirty. As soon as he began to get the picture he tromped off to get Stewy Lyons.
    Richie came back and sat Stewy down at our table. Drek and Al spotted trouble and they came over too.
    â€œTell Stewy the truth, Germ-brain,” Richie said. “You’re underage and you’re still in school.”
    Stewy looked