The Garage Band

It all started in the school cafeteria in Seattle, when Maya heard Leo humming a song she loved. Within a week, they had found a drummer, Rosa, and a bass player, Jake, who had only been playing for three months but owned a very loud amplifier. They called themselves The Wet Socks, because it was Seattle and it never stopped raining.

Jake's parents agreed to let them practice in their garage. It was cold and full of old bikes, but it had electricity and plenty of space. Every evening after homework, the four of them met there and played until their fingers hurt. They were terrible at first, but they got better quickly. Maya wrote the songs, Leo sang, and Rosa made everyone play faster than they wanted to.

The problem was the neighbors. After two weeks, Mrs. Thompson from across the street came over in her bathrobe at ten thirty at night. She didn't shout, but she looked very tired. The next day, Jake's parents had a family meeting. "We're happy to let you use the garage," his mother said, "but you aren't allowed to play after nine o'clock. And you need to make the music a little quieter." Jake tried to argue, but his father wouldn't let him finish. "Nine o'clock," he repeated. "That's the rule."

Nine o'clock was impossible. Rosa had swimming practice until seven, and Leo worked at a pizza place three evenings a week. If they could only play from seven thirty to nine, they would never be ready for the school talent show in May. They needed another place.

They tried everything. The school didn't allow students to use the music room after five. A cafe downtown offered them a corner, but only if they played acoustic songs, which made Rosa laugh for ten minutes. Leo's uncle had a warehouse, but it had no heating and no lights.

In the end, the answer came from Maya's grandmother, who lived in a retirement home a few blocks away. The home had a big activity room that was empty every evening. The manager agreed to let the band use it until ten, on one condition: every Sunday afternoon, they had to give a concert for the residents.

The first Sunday, the band was nervous. They had never played for anyone over twenty. But the residents loved it. A former jazz pianist named Walter gave Rosa advice about rhythm, and a woman called Dorothy made them learn an Elvis song. By May, The Wet Socks had played eleven concerts, and they had forty very loyal fans.

At the talent show, they came second. When they finished their last song, the loudest applause in the room came from the back, where a row of grandparents was standing and cheering.