There are many things that Jonas Fein does well.

        For instance, he's awesome at coming up with plausible stories on the spot that will placate even the most suspicious of parents and the most stern of teachers. He's a virtuoso of the hackneyed excuse: I've seen him feed his homework to his dog, self-induce flu-like symptoms, and excuse himself from final exams to rescue non-existent puppies from imaginary fires. But mostly he gets by with his smile. If there's a cute girl or whatever that you want to talk to, but you're, like, feeling shy, Jonas has no qualms whatsoever about going up to her and breaking the ice.

        You just have to be sure you're okay with that. Jonas' ice-breaking, that is. Because once he pulls out his failsafe, "who, me?" grin, your chances with said girl may be toast. She may be lost forever to the cult of the Fein.

        Are you jealous? Don't be. Jonas is charming. He just is. That's his thing.

        My thing? I'm Ari Abramson, and my thing is that I'm Jonas' best friend. Therefore, it's my job to break it to him that while he has certainly mastered the art of getting away with just about anything, and that he does have many totally appealing talents and strengths...well, singing is just not one of them.

        But Jonas is going to have to learn to sing. Like, sing well.

        See, I've got sort of a plan for junior year. But I'm going to need Jonas' help in order to put it into action.

        And even with Jonas--even with Jonas singing with the grace and nuance of a choirboy--even then, it's still a longshot.

        But I have to try.

        Excerpt from So Punk Rock (and Other Ways to Disappoint Your Mother) © Micol and David Ostow. Do not reprint.