Off the Charts Read online

  Copyright © 2009 Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney Press, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011-5690.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2009902703

  ISBN 978-1-4231-4724-4

  For more Disney Press fun, visit www.disneybooks.com

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  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped” book.

  ILS No. J689-1817-1

  110 2009

  CONTENTS

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DOUBLE TAKE

  PART

  ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Guys, check out my new guitar!” Kevin Lucas called to his brothers Nick and Joe as they entered the bedroom they all shared.

  “Bedroom” didn’t really do the space justice. Because this wasn’t just a huge, supercool bedroom. Nor was it just the boy’s favorite spot to hang out and chill. And it wasn’t even merely the second-floor loft of the converted old firehouse in New Jersey where their whole family lived.

  No, the loft was also the unofficial headquarters of the Lucas brothers’ hugely popular band, JONAS. The place included a full recording studio, several keyboards, a bunch of amps and speakers, and tons of other world-famous-rock-band-type equipment, not to mention bunk beds made to look exactly like the ones on their tour bus, which they used when they wanted to feel as if they were back on the road. They had regular beds for sleeping, of course.

  Given all that, it wasn’t unusual to walk in and see Kevin plugging an electric guitar into an amplifier. After all, he was a rock star and he was obsessed with guitars. He had hundreds of them stored on a revolving rack in the back part of the loft. When JONAS was touring, they needed an extra bus just for Kevin’s guitars.

  What was unusual was this particular guitar. Its neck was about three times the length of a normal one. If a normal guitar was a duck, this guitar was an ostrich. A really, really tall ostrich with an extralong neck.

  “I had it custom-made,” Kevin said proudly when his brothers had seen the guitar.

  Nick, the youngest—and usually most thoughtful—of the three, glanced at Joe. “That explains the fourteen-foot guitar case I just tripped over.”

  Kevin barely listened. He was too busy feeling the power surge through the guitar. It was a thing of true beauty.

  “Dig it,” he told his younger brothers eagerly. “On a normal guitar, this is the highest note you can hit, right?”

  He played a short, rockin’ lick. The guitar shredded and wailed awesomely. The sound bounced off the walls of the firehouse. Nick and Joe shrugged. Kevin’s guitar sounded like, well, a guitar.

  “But on the Kevin-ated guitar,” Kevin went on as the echoes faded, “I can play way up here.”

  This time he started the same way. But when the guitar wailed out that high note, he kept going. Higher and higher. And then higher still. Kevin just kept on shredding, working his way up the long, long, looooong neck.

  Joe and Nick winced at the piercing sounds shrieking out of the guitar. Just when they thought they couldn’t stand it any longer, the sounds stopped. Whew!

  But when they looked at Kevin, he was still playing.

  Joe was confused. “You look cool, but I don’t hear anything.”

  “That’s because the notes I’m playing are so high, humans can barely hear them,” Kevin explained as he kept right on shredding. “Dogs can totally hear it, though.”

  Nick and Joe nodded. Now that he mentioned it, they could hear something still coming out of the amp. Just barely, though.

  And still Kevin kept going. Higher, higher, high—

  ZOMP!

  There was a brief buzz, and then nothing. All the sound had stopped. Kevin felt the power drain out of his guitar and guessed that the electric cable had been yanked out of the wall. But who had done it? Nick and Joe were still standing right there in front of him.

  Kevin glanced over at the wall and his eyes grew wide. A small dog was standing by the outlet. It had the cable in its mouth and a disgruntled expression on its face. All three Lucas brothers stared at the dog. It glared back. Then it dropped the cable on the floor, let out a low growl, and marched out of the room.

  Kevin shrugged. “I said dogs could hear it. I didn’t say dogs would like it.”

  “Whose dog was that, anyway?” Nick wondered.

  Joe was peering out the way the dog had gone. “I don’t know,” he said. “But he left a review of Kevin’s guitar in the corner.” And it looks like he’s not a fan, Joe added silently.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Kevin and Joe were so used to being onstage together that they often moved as one, even in their everyday life. On this particular morning, for example, they stepped forward, stopped, and turned. They wriggled their fingers in time to a silent beat. Then . . .

  Clang!

  As if by magic, their lockers swung open. It was just another day at their school, the Horace Mantis Academy. Even though they had gotten pretty famous, their parents wanted them to stay grounded. Hence, regular high school. Quickly, Kevin and Joe began digging out their books for morning classes.

  Ready to go, Kevin stepped back and looked around. The school hallways were crowded, as usual. Students were rushing around saying hi to their friends and getting ready for the day, as usual. Stella Malone was walking toward them looking stylish, as usu— Hang on. What the heck was Stella wearing?!

  Kevin squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if they had suddenly gone wonky on him. It felt sort of like that time the TV had kept switching randomly between a test pattern and a Mexican telenovela. That had made his head hurt and his eyes cross in the same way this vision just had. Only this wasn’t TV. This was real life.

  When he opened his eyes again, nothing had changed. Stella was still coming toward him and Joe. And she was still wearing the most hideous, ridiculous-looking sweater Kevin had ever seen.

  This was downright mind-boggling. Stella was a lifelong friend of the Lucas brothers and also served as JONAS’s fashion stylist. She made sure that the band looked superhot and cutting-edge whenever they took the stage, posed for a photo, or even just walked down the street. In fact, at that very moment, Kevin and his brothers had Stella to thank for putting together the awesome outfits they were wearing.

  Noticing his brother’s confused expression, Joe also turned. “Hey, there’s Stella,” he said. Then he, too, did a double take. “Whoa, look at that sweater.”

  “Uh-oh,” Kevin groaned. “She’s going to ask us what we think of it. What do we say?”

  Joe grinned. “So many bad sweater jokes, so little time!”

>   Kevin clutched at him in a panic. “You know I can’t tell someone the truth if it might hurt their feelings!”

  “Yeah.” Joe rolled his eyes. He knew exactly how his brother was when he lied. “You get all nervous, and your voice gets real high.” He switched to a goofy falsetto to imitate Kevin. “What’s up with that?”

  Kevin bit his lip. “I guess it all started that one time when I had to tell that one girl the truth about that one thing. . . .”

  He couldn’t go on. Even the memory was painful. He needed a distraction. Quickly, he grabbed an acoustic guitar out of his locker. Kevin took a deep breath.

  “Dude,” Joe broke in before Kevin could do more than strum a couple of chords. “We don’t have time for a song.”

  Kevin blinked. Maybe Joe was right. He put down the guitar.

  “Anyway,” Joe went on, “maybe she won’t ask about the sweater.”

  At that very moment, Stella arrived in front of them. “Hey, guys,” she said. “What do you think of my sweater?”

  When he answered, Kevin’s voice came out all high and squeaky, just as he had feared it would. “That has got to be the most beautiful sweater I’ve ever seen in my life!”

  “Thanks!” Stella smiled, oblivious to Kevin’s lie. She turned. “Joe?”

  “Stella, you know I love you,” Joe said. “But that sweater looks like a peacock threw up on it.”

  Stella frowned. “This happens to be designed by Jacques Petite,” she informed him, lovingly stroking the sweater’s hideous multicolored sleeve. “He’s the most cutting-edge designer coming out of France. Plus, it’s completely biodegradable.”

  “Great,” Joe said. “You won’t have to feel guilty when you throw it in the trash.”

  Stella rolled her eyes. “Oh, what do you know?” she huffed.

  “You two sound like an old married couple,” Kevin observed.

  “Old?!” Stella and Joe exclaimed at once, ignoring the “married” and “couple” parts.

  Just then Nick hurried toward them, cutting off any additional protests. “Dudes, I’ve got some bad news,” he said, panting. He caught sight of their stylist. “And it has nothing to do with Stella’s horrible sweater.”

  Stella scowled at him, looking insulted. But Nick didn’t even notice.

  “Margot canceled,” he went on, his expression serious. “She can’t record with us tomorrow night.”

  “What?” Kevin cried. “She’s my favorite backup singer!”

  “She has a frog in her throat,” Nick explained.

  Kevin nodded. At least half of his biology class had spent yesterday’s lab time hacking and wheezing. “Yeah, there’s some kind of bug going around,” he said.

  Nick shook his head. “No,” he corrected. “She was swimming in a swamp and got an actual frog in her throat. She’s at the clinic now getting a frog-ectomy.”

  Kevin was surprised to hear that. He hadn’t even known people went swimming in swamps. And even if they did, what had Margot been doing swimming in one two days before a recording session? And where had she even found a swamp, anyway? As far as he knew, there were no swamps nearby.

  Then again, he was no swamp expert. Besides, all that was beside the point. The point was . . . what was the point? Right! They were down one awesome backup singer.

  By now Joe looked just as anxious as Nick. He ran a hand through his dark, perfectly-styled hair. “What are we going to do?” he exclaimed. “Malcolm Meckle is coming to watch us lay down tracks.”

  “Malcolm Meckle?” Kevin blurted out. “The president of our record label?”

  Nick nodded. “So we need to find a replacement female backup singer. Fast.”

  He didn’t get to say more because . . . THWOCK! A football came out of nowhere and nailed Joe right in the head. He dropped like a stone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kevin and Nick shook their heads. Had that actually just happened? They stared down at their brother, who was lying on the ground. Apparently it had.

  A moment later Joe struggled to his feet, wincing as the world spun around him.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” A breathless voice came from behind them.

  Turning, the brothers saw Macy Misa rushing toward them. She was wearing a football uniform, complete with helmet, pads, and cleats.

  Macy was Stella’s best friend. She had two great passions in life—sports and JONAS. She was great at one and a bit of a mess at the other. Macy could stare down any opponent on a softball field, tennis court, or bowling lane with steely determination. But one glimpse of the Lucas brothers and that stare went all gooey and soft around the edges, trimmed in pink lace and little hand-drawn hearts.

  “I’m so sorry,” she blurted out as she skidded to a stop in front of her idols and picked up the football. “I was just working on a new throw. See, it starts here—”

  She swung her hand back to demonstrate. THWACK! She smacked Nick upside the head.

  “Aargh!” Nick shouted.

  “Sorry!” Macy cried.

  She couldn’t believe she’d nearly taken out another of her favorite superstars. She swung around to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally spaz out and hit him again.

  KONK!

  “Yowwww!” yelped Joe.

  “Sorry!” Macy exclaimed again. She spun around.

  “Ow!” Kevin howled as she stomped right on his foot.

  “Sorry!”

  Stella had seen enough of the carnage. It was time to step in. She hurried forward, placing herself between Macy and the guys.

  “Macy, remember the drill,” she ordered. “Deep breaths.”

  Macy heaved in a huge breath. Then another. Breathe in, breathe out. Just like Stella had taught her.

  “I don’t get it,” Stella said as she watched her friend try to get control of herself. “You’re this amazing, graceful athlete, but anytime you’re around JONAS you become a hallway hazard.”

  Macy couldn’t help being a little insulted. A hallway hazard? That was carrying things a little too far, wasn’t it?

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Macy turned toward Stella. The boys ducked out of the way—just in case.

  Stella glanced at them. “Let’s get you guys some ice,” she told Joe and Nick. Then she turned to Kevin. “How are your toes?”

  Kevin glanced down, wriggling his foot inside his shoe. “Three okay, two iffy,” he reported. “But I’m good.”

  Stella nodded, then led Nick and Joe away. Both of them clutched their heads as they followed her.

  “Don’t forget to ask about a new backup singer!” Kevin called after them.

  Macy’s eyes lit up. “You need a new backup singer?” she exclaimed.

  Kevin gulped. He was now alone with Destructo Girl. He kept a wary eye on her as she advanced toward him.

  “You know, I’m a singer,” Macy said excitedly. “In fact, it’s always been a dream of mine to turn pro. But, you know, I’m so busy with all the sports. . . .”

  She raised the football to illustrate her point. Kevin lunged for it before it could attack one of his body parts.

  With the ball safely in his own hands, Kevin could turn his attention back to Macy. And also to what she’d just said. So, a wanting-to-turn-pro singer? Standing right here in the school hallway in front of him? Right when JONAS needed a new backup singer? What were the odds? It was almost as wild as having three brothers who all loved to sing and could play . . . Hey, wait a minute, Kevin thought. I guess it’s not that crazy.

  “If it’s always been your dream, then you should follow your heart,” he told her. “Why don’t you come sing backup on our new song tomorrow?”

  “Oh, my gosh!” Macy blurted out. “Really? Is this really happening? You can’t be serious!”

  She felt light-headed, as if little stars were bursting inside her brain. Stars of bliss and perfection. So many stars that they crowded out the rest of her brain, and she fainted.

  A second later, she popped back up. “But you ar
e!” she cried incoherently.

  She was already picturing the amazing scene. Her, Macy Misa, singing in a real studio. With JONAS! What could be better than that?

  Then another thought occurred to her. “What if I’m not good enough?” she asked, her forehead creasing with worry.

  Kevin shrugged. “No sweat. I’ll give you a few pointers before we record.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Macy shrieked, jumping up and down. Unfortunately, on one of the “downs” she landed on something soft and sort of crunchy. Namely, Kevin’s foot.

  “Aaaargh!” Kevin cried.

  Macy stopped jumping. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed.

  “No problem.” Kevin grimaced, hoping that feeling would return to his foot soon. “They say, technically, you don’t need your pinky toe,” he added.

  He hobbled off down the hall. Aside from his throbbing foot, he was feeling pretty good. Nick and Joe were going to be psyched when they heard about this. Well, not the crushed-foot part. But the other part—the part where he’d found them a new backup singer and saved the day.

  Kevin grinned. Sometimes even he had to wonder exactly how he’d turned out so incredibly awesome.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Tom Lucas was downstairs in the firehouse. As the father of three teenage boys and a younger son all-too-eager to be a teenager, he stayed pretty busy. Being JONAS’s manager kept him even busier.

  Today Mr. Lucas’s job was to look through some prototypes of JONAS merchandise. The stuff filled the table in front of him. Clothes. Posters. Toys. And more. Mr. Lucas was supposed to decide which items they should put into production to sell at JONAS concerts and on their Web site.

  He picked up one of the items. It was a boomerang with the band’s logo on it.

  “Ooh,” he said, intrigued. “A JONAS boomerang!”

  He decided to test it out. Winding up, he flung it away as hard as he could. Then he waited for it to come back.