Read Sun Poisoned (The Sunshine Series) for Free Online

“I’m not sure who’s more excited.”
    He smiles. “I think it’s you.”
    Yeah. I guess. I mean, if I wasn’t so wigged out, that is.
     
    Myles leaves around eleven thirty and I take the longest shower known to man.
    It’s usually pretty cold in the practice spaces because the air conditioning is cranked up in the anticipation that the bands will get all sweaty from rehearsing, so I dress in layers: a black tank top under an oversized, white God Save The Queen T-shirt that was once Jade’s until I stole it. He cut off the sleeves so the armpits stretch all the way to my love handles. I throw on my black ripped jeans and tuck the legs into my boots.
    I slip my phone into my pocket, and decide on carrying my trench and sunglasses in case we finish early and they want to go somewhere outside.
    I climb down the flight of stairs that take me to the practice rooms a few minutes before noon and Manny is already waiting outside of the room, leaning against the wall and wearing white shorts and red Converse.
    His raspy voice greets me. “Hey, you made it.”
    There are sounds of intermittent and random instruments trying to break through the closed door in a muffled wave
    “ Of course I made it.” I try for confidence, hopefully it works.
    “ Well, come on.” He gestures for me to follow him, one hand on the doorknob. “I want you to meet the guys.”
    The sound of drums and what I can now see is a huge xylophone get louder and then abruptly stop as Manny and I enter the room. “Guys,” he says casually. “This is Sophie.”
    I take a look around as I set my junk down on a table near the door that seems safe. Their practice space is bigger than ours, but it looks basically the same: red and white stripes cover the walls, wooden floors—except there are a crap-load more instruments and decorations everywhere. In the corner is a keyboard similar to the one in my apartment strung with multicolored Christmas lights. Across from that, a thin guy with short brown hair, wearing cut off jean shorts and a wife beater sits behind a drum set.
    “ That’s Skinny,” Manny waves and smiles, so I do the same. Skinny waves back.
    Behind him is a heavier man with poofy strawberry blond curly hair and an equally puffed out beard. “Bear,” Manny introduces, waving a hand in his direction.
              Bear steps between a stand that holds a trombone, trumpet, tambourine, and what can only be described as a huge brass bell to shake my hand.
    In the far corner of the room is a guy standing behind the xylophone with bronze skin and dark hair covered with a baseball cap, smiling though a five o’clock shadow and looking pumped.
    “That’s Pete Peebs,” Manny indicates. “But we just call him Peebs.”
    Just when I think there are no more band members to introduce, a guy in the opposite corner as Peebs with a bald head and a long, shaggy beard tucked behind his guitar strap waves a hand in my direction. “I’m Ewok!” he announces.
    I have to laugh. “Hi.”
    Manny gestures to the keyboard, and I walk over to it and sit down, trying to not let my nerves get the best of me.
    “ So I thought we could just start playing,” Manny tells me, taking his place behind the microphone in the midst of all the instruments. “You can just join in whenever you’re comfortable.”
    I have to fight the urge to gulp. “But I have no clue what the songs are like.” Sure, I’ve heard a few of them at shows, but I don’t know them well enough to just play them by ear.
    They all start laughing. Really loudly.
    “Dude, relax,” Bear says, positioning a red sweatband onto his curly mop head.
    “ Yeah,” says Peebs, smiling. “Manny never knows what he’s doing. Just improvise, and you’ll be fine.”
    So I nod and wave them on to start playing.
    Their chaotic music wastes no time slamming and crashing around me. They start off fast, slowing only a fraction when the rhythm kicks in. It’s punk gypsy music, and then