by Melody Reed
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!