The Major Eights 1: Battle of the Bands Read online

  onstage, panting for breath.

  “Girls, we were so impressed with

  your song,” Ms. Kwan said into the

  mic. “Tell us, who wrote it?”

  Becca looked at Scarlet. Maggie

  giggled. Scarlet grinned and looked

  at me.

  I spoke into the mic. “We, uh . . . all

  did,” I said. “The four of us.”

  “Amazing!” said Ms. Kwan. “So tell

  us, will we be seeing more of the

  Major Eights?”

  We looked at each other and

  smiled. Together we answered,

  “Absolutely!”

  Read on for a sneak peek from the

  second book in the Major Eights

  series, Scarlet’s Big Break.

  It all began the week after the Battle

  of the Bands.

  I was sitting in the bleachers on

  Saturday morning, watching my little

  brother Tyson’s baseball game. Wind

  shook the leaves on the trees. I wished

  the sun would come out.

  Then Coach Suarez walked over.

  “Scarlet, right?” she asked.

  I jumped up. “What?”

  “From the Major Eights? At the

  Battle of the Bands?” asked Coach

  Suarez.

  Jasmine, Becca, Maggie, and I

  hadn’t won the competition. But

  the crowd had loved us. We got an

  honorable mention. And we’d had a

  blast.

  I blinked. “That’s me.”

  “Do you know the national

  anthem?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I answered Coach

  Suarez. I looked over at Aunt Billie.

  She stood near my parents, watching

  Tyson. Aunt Billie lives just two blocks

  away from us. She’s not only my

  aunt; she’s also my singing coach. She

  grinned at me from the fence.

  “Would you sing it this morning?

  To start the game?” Coach Suarez

  asked. “I just got a call. The woman

  who was going to sing for us today

  is sick.”

  My eyes bugged out. “Really?”

  Now I really jumped up. “You want

  me to sing? Here?”

  “You girls did a great job last week,”

  Coach Suarez said. “The whole town’s

  talking about it.”

  When it comes to singing, nobody

  needs to ask me twice. “I’ll do it!” I

  said. “Do you have a mic?”

  “We have a PA system over here.”

  “Then let’s do this!” I skipped down

  the bleachers.

  And just like that, I had my first

  solo gig.

  Coach Suarez left to prep the PA

  system.

  Aunt Billie came over. “See?” she

  whispered. “The one song every singer

  needs to know. You never know when

  you’ll need it.” Aunt Billie was named

  after a famous singer. She is a singer,

  too. A really good one.

  Coach Suarez passed me the mic.

  The crowd got quiet. Even the five-

  year-old ballplayers held still. We all

  turned to face the flag.

  I started to sing. “Oh, say, can you

  see. . . .”

  But then the mic cut out!

  My eyes got big. I kept singing

  anyway. I acted like it was fine.

  “. . . By the dawn’s early light. . . .”

  The mic still didn’t work. Wind

  blew across it, and it picked that

  up just fine.

  But I kept on singing.

  I paused after “ramparts.” I’d had

  enough of this mic.

  I set the mic down. I turned and

  faced the crowd and belted out the

  rest.

  At “. . . la-and of the FREE,” I was

  in the zone. People clapped and

  hooted. I finished the song: “. . .

  and the hooooome . . . of the . . .

  braaaaaaave!”

  The crowd cheered.

  Tyson pointed at me. He yelled,

  “That’s my sister!”

  Still clapping, Coach Suarez made

  a face. “Sorry about the microphone.

  You handled it great, though!”

  “What a pro!” said a parent.

  Coach Suarez dug in her purse.

  She handed me an orange piece of

  paper. “Have you heard about this?”

  she asked. “My kids go to your school.

  I saw this yesterday.”

  I read the flyer aloud: “Enter the

  talent show! Bring your tutus. Bring

  your routines. Bring your voice!”

  My heart sped up. “A week from

  Friday, 7pm. In the gym. Come be a

  superstar!”

  Wow.

  A picture popped into my head. I

  was in the spotlight. I was singing at

  that talent show. And everybody in

  the whole school cheered! I grinned.

  “Thanks,” I said to Coach Suarez.

  She squeezed my shoulder and

  left.

  I hugged the flyer. Maybe I could

  sing alone, like my aunt. Maybe I

  could even win. Maybe . . .

  Kids grabbed their gloves. They

  lined up. Coach Suarez ushered them

  out onto the field.

  Maybe . . . maybe I could be a

  superstar!