The Major Eights 1: Battle of the Bands Read online

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  that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold

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  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events,

  real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names,

  characters, places, and events are products of the author’s

  imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An imprint of Bonnier Publishing USA

  251 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10010

  Copyright © 2018 by Little Bee Books

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or

  in part in any form.

  Little Bee Books is a trademark of Bonnier Publishing USA, and

  associated colophon is a trademark of Bonnier Publishing USA.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Reed, Melody, author. | Pépin, Émilie, illustrator.

  Title: Battle of the bands / by Melody Reed; illustrated by Émilie Pépin.

  Description: First edition. | New York, NY: Little Bee Books, [2018].

  Series: The major eights; #1 | Summary: Keyboardist Jasmine, age eight, tries

  to convince her bandmates, Maggie, Becca, and Scarlet, to prove themselves

  in a Battle of the Bands competition, despite their poor equipment.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017004961 | Subjects: | CYAC: Bands (Music)—Fiction. |

  Friendship—Fiction. | Contests—Fiction. | Chinese Americans—Fiction. |

  BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Readers / Chapter Books. | JUVENILE FICTION /

  Performing Arts / Music. | JUVENILE FICTION / Girls & Women. |

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.R428 Bat 2018

  DDC [Fic]—dc23 | LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017004961

  ISBN 978-1-4998-0565-9 (hc)

  First Edition 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN 978-1-4998-0564-2 (pb)

  First Edition 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  littlebeebooks.com

  bonnierpublishingusa.com

  1.

  The Perfect idea

  2.

  a real band

  3.

  oops

  4.

  let’s do it!

  5.

  the real song

  6.

  a big idea

  7.

  fox pox

  8.

  battle of the bands

  9.

  and the winner is

  “Hit it, Jasmine!” said Scarlet. She

  tossed her braids. Beads clicked

  against one another.

  “You got it,” I said. I put my fingers

  on the keyboard. It has five keys that

  do not work. No sound comes out of

  them. We have a piano upstairs that

  doesn’t have any broken keys, but I

  wanted to be in the basement, where

  I could jam with my friends.

  “Wait!” Becca

  called. “Can you

  play an E first?”

  “Sure,” I said. I

  found the note. The

  keyboard hummed a

  low E.

  Becca twisted a peg on

  her guitar. She plucked a

  string, over and over. It finally

  sounded like the keyboard.

  Then she tuned the other

  strings.

  Maggie sat behind my dad’s

  old drum set. She twirled one

  of her drumsticks. It spun out

  of her hand and hit the floor.

  “Oops,” she said.

  “I’ll get it!”

  Scarlet yelled. She

  handed the stick to

  Maggie. Then Scarlet

  began warming up her

  voice. “Do, mi, so, do, mi,

  so, do,” she sang. We don’t

  have a mic in my basement,

  but Scarlet’s aunt has one. She is

  a singer. (Wow!) At my house, Scarlet

  sings into my hairbrush. She likes

  to practice with something in

  her hand.

  “Ready,” said Becca.

  “Me, too,” called Maggie.

  “I was born ready,”

  Scarlet said confidently.

  “Here we go!” I said.

  I played the notes in a chord, one

  at a time. Then I moved on to another

  chord. I tried to keep the beat even.

  Maggie took up the beat on her

  kick drum.

  Becca watched my hands. She

  strummed her guitar to fit the rhythm.

  At first, Scarlet listened. Then she

  sang: “Once I was inside a box. There

  I met a crazy fox. He told me I had

  chicken pox—”

  Maggie bent over and giggled. Her

  foot slid off the pedal for the kick

  drum.

  Scarlet turned to face her, singing,

  “Maggie, we need that beat, or else

  you have to smell my feet!”

  Maggie fell on the floor laughing.

  She rolled on the carpet. Her red curls

  spilled around her head.

  I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

  “Five minutes, Jasmine!” my mom

  called down.

  “Okay,” I called back. I turned to

  my friends. “Sorry, guys. I have to go

  eat dinner.”

  “No problem,” Maggie said. She

  stood up. “I need to study for our

  science test.”

  “You already did,” I said.

  Maggie tied her

  sneakers. “I just

  need to make sure

  I get an A.”

  Becca unzipped

  a soft, guitar-

  shaped bag. She

  put her guitar

  inside.

  “Hey,” she said. “My brother

  gave me his old gig bag.” She held

  it up. “Cool, right? I look like a real

  musician.”

  “You are a real musician,” Scarlet

  said. She gave me back my hairbrush.

  “We all are.”

  We went up the stairs together. “Do

  you want to come over tomorrow?” I

  asked my friends. “After I get home

  from Chinese school?”

  “Of course,” said Becca.

  “Perfect,” said Maggie.

  “Always,” said Scarlet.

  Mom passed the bowl of beef chow

  fun to my brother, Nick. Nick still wore

  his football uniform. He smelled like

  dirty socks. I wrinkled my nose.

  “How was school today, Jasmine?”

  Mom asked.

  “Fine,” I said. I put noodles on my

  plate. “But band practice was way

  more fun.”

  “Practice?” Nick said. “No, I have

  practices. You just have fun with your

  friends.”

  “Nick, be nice,” Dad warned.

  My cheeks heated. “Our band is

  more than that,” I said. “We’re good.”

  “If you’re so good,” Nick said, “why

  don’t you enter the Battle of the

 
Bands?”

  I glared at him. “What is that?”

  “Nick,” Dad warned again.

  He turned to me. “Center City is

  having a competition this year.

  They call it the Battle of the

  Bands. But it’s not just for bands.

  Any musician can enter. All the

  entrants will perform at the Fall

  Festival. The winner gets a thousand

  dollars.”

  I sat up straight. “A thousand

  dollars?”

  Nick took a bite of his noodles. “I

  was just kidding, Jasmine,” he said

  with his mouth full. “The Battle of the

  Bands is for older people. Not eight-

  year-olds. I know some guys at my

  high school that are entering.”

  I narrowed my eyes at

  him. “We could do it.”

  “Sure you could,”

  Nick said. “But has

  your band even

  played a real

  song? Like, a song

  by a real band? A

  song you might hear on the radio?”

  I thought about it. We were a band,

  after all. Bands perform. What if we

  did enter the Battle of the Bands?

  Sure, we would need to learn a real

  song. But if we won, I could get a

  new keyboard. Or a mic. Or a sound

  system. And we could show everyone

  that we were a real band.

  This was the perfect idea. Now all I

  had to do was talk to Becca, Maggie,

  and Scarlet. I had to make them think

  it was the perfect idea, too.

  The next morning, I sat at my desk. I

  chewed on a fingernail. What would

  Becca, Maggie, and Scarlet think? We

  had to do the Battle of the Bands. I

  peeled off a piece of pink nail polish.

  But maybe Nick was right. Maybe

  eight-year-olds couldn’t do it.

  My band friends and I all go to

  the same school. But none of us are

  in the same third-grade class. My

  best friend in my class is Leslie Miller.

  She gets good grades, and she is really

  good at piano. She almost always

  beats me at piano competitions.

  Sometimes I feel jealous that she’s so

  good at piano. But she’s my friend, so

  I try not to let it bother me.

  “Good morning, class,” said

  Ms. Kwan.

  Leslie sat up straight.

  “I want to begin with a special

  announcement,” Ms. Kwan said. “This

  year at Center City’s Fall Festival,

  there will be a Battle of the Bands.”

  My ears perked up.

  “I will be helping with it.” She

  beamed at us. “And Leslie has just

  told me she will be entering the

  competition on piano.”

  My mouth dropped open. Leslie

  grinned.

  I shot up out of my chair. “We are,

  too!” I shouted. “And we are going to

  win!”

  The class got quiet. Ms. Kwan

  blinked. My face got hot.

  “I . . . oh. Is that so, Jasmine?” Ms.

  Kwan said.

  Everyone stared at me. I sat back

  down. “Um, yes,” I said quietly.

  Ms. Kwan smiled. “That’s wonderful,

  Jasmine. And who is ‘we’?”

  I swallowed. “Um, my band,” I said.

  “Fantastic,” Ms. Kwan said. She

  pulled out her laptop. “I will add you

  to the list.”

  My stomach

  tightened. Now

  I really had to

  convince Becca,

  Maggie, and

  Scarlet.

  “The Battle of the Bands?” said

  Scarlet.

  “I don’t know. . . . ” said Maggie.

  “Isn’t that for grown-ups?” asked

  Becca.

  I took a deep breath. A ball

  bounced past us. Kids shouted from

  the monkey bars. “We said last night

  we were a real band,” I said. “And if

  we win, we can buy stuff to make us

  better. Like a mic. Or a keyboard. Or

  speakers.”

  “I have those things,” Scarlet said.

  “Me, too,” said Becca. “But my

  brother is always using them.”

  Scarlet nodded. “Yeah,” she said.

  “My aunt is always using hers.”

  “See?” I said. “If we had our own,

  we could use those things whenever

  we wanted!”

  Maggie frowned. “I still don’t

  think . . .”

  “Hi, Jasmine.” It was Leslie. Her

  friends stood behind her. They all

  wore pigtails with ribbons.

  “Hi, Leslie,” I said.

  “So, you’re doing the Battle of the

  Bands, too? That’s great!” said Leslie.

  “No, we are only talking about it,”

  Becca said.

  “Oh,” said Leslie. “But Jasmine told

  Ms. Kwan you were doing it.”

  I slapped my forehead.

  “Jasmine!!!” said Becca.

  Scarlet put her hands on her hips.

  Maggie’s eyes got big.

  Leslie looked embarrassed. “Well, I

  hope to see you there.” She and her

  friends walked away. Their pigtails all

  bounced together.

  Oops.

  “I’m sorry,” I told my friends.

  Scarlet folded her arms. Becca and

  Maggie frowned.

  “The truth is,” I said, “we are a good

  band. And this would be fun. We can

  prove to everyone that being eight

  is great, and we can do anything

  anyone else can!”

  My friends looked at each other.

  Scarlet grinned. “Why not?”

  Maggie took a deep breath. “If

  you say so.”

  Becca shrugged. “Okay, I’m in.”

  I smiled. My friends were convinced.

  We were doing the Battle of the

  Bands!

  On Friday night, we practiced in

  Scarlet’s aunt’s basement, which is

  our favorite place to play. Her aunt

  has a real recording studio there. She

  uses it a lot, but sometimes she lets

  us practice there.

  “First things first,” I said. “Every

  band has a name. We need one.”

  “No kidding,” said Scarlet. “But

  what?”

  “I know! We are all eight,” said

  Maggie. “We could be the Eight-Year-

  Olds.”

  Scarlet scrunched up her nose. “I

  don’t know. . . .”

  “How about the Pink and Purple

  Ping-Pong Paddles?” I asked. “Pink is

  the best color in the world.”

  “And purple is, too,” Scarlet agreed.

  “I don’t like pink,” said Becca. “Black

  is the best color ever.”

  “I like blue best,” said Maggie.

  I sighed. “Well, we can’t be the

  Black and Blue Ping-Pong Paddles.

  That sounds like we have bruises.”

  “How about the Centers? After

  Center City?” asked Becca.

  “Cute,” I said.

  “But it sounds like a sports team,”

  said Scarlet.

  “So?” Becca put her hands on her

  hips.
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br />   “So, we are not a sports team,” said

  Scarlet. “What about the Basement

  Bandits?”

  Maggie nodded in agreement. “We

  do practice in basements.”

  “Except when we play in my

  garage,” said Becca. “I like Maggie’s

  idea. We should do something with

  ‘eight.’”

  “But what?” said Scarlet.

  We thought. But none of us came

  up with anything.

  “Maybe we should practice first,” I

  said. “We can pick a name later.”

  My friends nodded. I passed out

  sheet music.

  “What is this?” asked Scarlet.

  I smiled. “My mom took me to the

  music store today. I got us a song to

  play for the Battle of the Bands!”

  “A real song?” asked Maggie. She

  stared at the sheet. She wrinkled her

  nose at it.

  “Yes,” I said. “To

  compete, we need

  to do a real song. I

  always learn real

  songs for my piano

  competitions. So

  does Leslie. I know

  she’ll play a real song at the Battle

  of the Bands.”

  Becca’s voice rose.

  “But I can’t read

  music!”

  “Well,” I said.

  I hadn’t thought

  about that.

  “I guess just watch my hands again.”

  “But this is piano sheet music.”

  Maggie waved the sheet at me.

  “There’s nothing for drums on it.”

  I swallowed. I hadn’t thought

  about that,

  either. “Well,” I

  said. “I guess just

  find the beat like

  you always do.”

  I sat down

  behind Scarlet’s

  aunt’s keyboard.

  It looked so nice and new. I couldn’t

  wait to play. “Okay, let’s try it,” I said.

  I looked at the music. There were

  a lot of notes. I decided to play only