By Gaby Triana
She's named after a landform. She discovered to stroll at the pink carpet. And now she's taking part in hostess to the nation's most well liked pop superstar. barren region McGraw hasn't precisely had an ordinary upbringing. Her dad fronts the preferred rock band Crossfire, and her mother is the group's supervisor. consistently on travel or sitting in on recording periods, wilderness leads a lifestyles that appears glamorous to most folk. yet now that she's 16 and dwelling in another new city -- Miami, this time -- wilderness is greater than able to name one position domestic. there is one challenge, although: How have you learnt whom to belief -- not to mention what man to connect to -- whilst all any-one desires is entry to the band? humorous, romantic, and packed with crucial rock-star etiquette (the right dresses for cruising in a Jag convertible, tips to introduce new acquaintances in your leather-wearing dad, etc.), behind the curtain move is a glance at what occurs whilst genuine existence meets each girl's dream.
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Extra resources for Backstage Pass
This is normal between us. I love Maxie-Max. But then Max sees Dad’s death-look through the sound booth window, drops the wasabi back in its place, and picks up his drumsticks. Silent Phil follows suit, grabbing his bass from the corner where he set it down, and they go back out into the hall. ” My stomach is grumbling, and even though I know he wouldn’t mind if I ate, I decide to wait. I pull a scrap of paper from my back 36 pocket. Liam’s phone number. He’s such a nice guy. This would be too weird for him if he found out.
At least her grandma cares about her. ” Hmm, sad. Okay, now ask him something, Desert, before he starts asking about you. ” Liam inquires. Damn, cut off at the pass. “No big deal,” I lie. ” “Mmm-hmm,” he mutters, nodding his head like a psychotherapist. ” Ha! Good one! “No, not quite. ” “Thank you, Mr. . ” “Mr. ” I wave to an invisible crowd. “Thank you, I’ll take Birds of Prey for five hundred dollars please, Mr. ” Liam lets out a hearty laugh. “Silly,” he mumbles, shaking his head. Cutie. And a Hispanic cutie at that.
She asks, palm to her heart. ” Mom’s back, rounding the pool and wringing her hands. “I haven’t found Daddy. ” She lowers her stare to let me know that Flesh, lead singer of Crossfire, is running loose on the grounds somewhere and we must catch him. Quickly. ” Crap! Crap! She can’t see him before I tell her! ” Becca’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah . . um . . photo studio, my dad’s a photographer, I mean, no, he’s not. Okay, Becca, look . ” Becca’s head turns back and forth to examine my nervous face, then my mom’s, then once again past my shoulder, to see— Dad comes out of the pool shed, wearing his Rock Is Dead cap and brandishing the bug-net pole over his shoulder.