En savoir plus
Informationen zum Autor MARK PETER HUGHES was born in Liverpool, England, and grew up in Barrington, Rhode Island. Mark's obsession with music has led to many ups and downs. Setbacks include getting ejected from eighth-grade music class for throwing a spitball and the heartbreak of learning that the accordion has no place on a thrash-metal stage. Success came later when Mark fronted an alternative-rock band. Lemonade Mouth is Mark Peter Hughes's second novel. Klappentext Kirkus said, "warmhearted and innocently wild, this stand-alone sequel will find appreciative fans among teen music obsessives and social activists."Olivia, Wen, Stella, Charlie, and Mo-the members of the legendary band Lemonade Mouth-have been labeled many things. But just how did this little group of misunderstood outcasts end up rocketing from high school nobodies to household names?In their own words, the band tells the story of the momentous summer when an overworked music promoter, an unwanted visitor from India, and an unexpected reappearance by a figure from Olivia's past shook their world and launched them on their roller-coaster ride to destiny. There are plenty of false rumors out there, but this is the real story, the continuation of the official history of Rhode Island's most influential band. Lemonade Mouth is going worldwide and taking no prisoners. The outcome will be nothing short of revolutionary. Leseprobe CHAPTER 1 When opportunity knocks, grab it by the shirt, pull it the heck into the house, and offer it something to eat. Come on, guys! This ain’t brain surgery! —Sista Slash OLIVIA A Pebble Tossed into Still Water Dear Naomi, Looking back, I can honestly say that I felt the trouble coming before it even arrived. As you know, I sometimes get feelings about these things, and I guess a part of me realized that summer vacation was starting off too well. Things were far too good to stay that way. I’d just finished my chaotic freshman year at Opequonsett High School and was looking forward to two quiet, predictable months of reading in my backyard, gathering shells on the beach and relaxing with my grandmother and our thirteen cats. My only real responsibility was to help out with my grandmother’s mail-order printing and graphics business, which she runs from our house, but I knew that would actually be kind of fun. Most of all, I was looking forward to hanging out with my Lemonade Mouth friends. For a couple of weeks the five of us had been meeting in Lyle Dwarkin’s garage, trying to record some new songs Wen and I had written. Lyle is so good with that techie stuff, and his mother makes amazing orange meringue tarts. But you remember all this as well as I do, Naomi, because you were there too, hanging out with us and helping Lyle arrange the microphones and all the other gear. Remember how long it took to set up Wen’s trumpet mike that first session? How Lyle kept switching the angle and trying out different effects on his laptop until it sounded just right? Stella didn’t say a word, but it was obvious she was about to burst with impatience, because as she gripped the neck of her new ukulele, her jaw was clenched and her face was turning red. Mo and Charlie nearly fell over themselves trying not to laugh. But Lyle is a perfectionist. That’s part of the reason why those recordings turned out the way they did. Even Stella finally admits it now. I now recognize those were special days, a brief period of happy calm like the still surface of a pond just before someone throws a pebble into the water. In a way, it was my own fault that everything changed. Stella and the others had been trying to get me to agree to perform live again, but even though I’d tried to overcome my fears, the idea of singing in front of a crowd of strangers made me so anxious that I often threw up before going onstage. If I hadn’t relented, maybe everything would have turned...
