CHAPTER 3
There were two places you could stop for a snack on the way home from Huckabee Middle School.
One was the Fancy Freeze, which had all the action, with high school kids piling in and out of cars. The other was an RV across the street that sold tacos out of a side window.
Today, Bo and Jimmy needed some privacy so they were sitting at the metal table outside the taco truck, working on real tasty $1 carnitas tacos.
"I told you, no way!" Jimmy said.
"I've even got your part written out for you," Bo said. "I downloaded it and then made it simpler, so it doesn't even matter that your left hand's not that great."
"Dude! What part of 'no!' don't you understand? I'm not a drummer!"
"Oh, you're not a drummer. Then what's that pounding on your desk you torture me with right in my ear every day in 7th period?"
"That's just me bored, fooling around."
"So, that's all 'Wipeout" is," Bo said. "Every time I hit a hard C chord and stop, you fool around. Same with an F chord, same with a G. Then I come back in."
"Why don't you try Mackie or someone. Doesn't he play snare drum in the band?"
"Can't take a chance on Mackie," Bo said. "Dude, you know girls love two things on stage, right? One is lead guitarists; two is drummers playing solos. That'd be you and me."
Jimmy took his time.
"I don't have a drum set," he said.
"Got that covered," Bo said.
