I'm Not in the Band

by Amber Garza

  My gut twists as I imagine getting lost, or eating lunch alone. I could text him. Sophie’s pointed that out to me numerous times. Technically, he texted me first. But that was the night we met. What if he’s changed his mind since then?

  As difficult as tomorrow will be, deep down I’m relieved I’m not going back to Hamilton. I’d never survive.

  Sinking down onto my bed, I reach out and grab the top Sophie talked me into buying. As I stare down at it, a memory sparks of the first time I saw Kate. It was impossible to miss her as she walked through the doors of Hamilton Academy. She’d paired her school uniform with striped tights and chunky boots, and she had her blond hair in boxer braids with little bows at the ends. I couldn’t tell if she was a tomboy or girly-girl. Everyone wanted to get to know her. Everyone wanted to be her friend.

  For some reason, I was the one she chose.

  And I’d always felt special because of it.

  Without her friendship, I’m a little lost. Wetness burning my eyes, I blow out a breath and grab a pair of jeans from the pile.

  Then I put them next to one of my favorite T-shirts. Simple. Easy. Nondescript. It’s perfect.

  I’m not the kind of girl who’s comfortable standing out. I’ve never been like Kate.

  The squeaking of the door catches my attention. Dropping the clothes onto my bedspread, I whirl around. Nancy Drew slips inside through my partially opened door and moves quickly forward on her paws. Purring, she slides between my legs. Bending down, I run my fingertips over her silky fur.

  “Are you gonna miss me tomorrow?” I coo. When her purring deepens, I sink all the way onto the ground. “I wish I could hide you away in my backpack.” She comes closer, nuzzling me with her face.

  “Who are you talking to?” Sophie pushes my door open all the way. When her gaze connects with Nancy, she curls her nose. “Oh. I thought maybe you were on the phone.”

  “So, you interrupted me?” I raise my brows. She shrugs, a splash of pink appearing on her cheeks as if I flung it on with a paintbrush. “You thought I was talking to Archer, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I stand up, and Nancy leaps away from me, making her way toward the doorway where Sophie stands. Her brows furrow, her eyes narrowing. “That thing is evil.” When she touches her arm, I see a red line over her flesh.

  “’Cause you’re mean to her,” I point out, feeling absolutely no sympathy.

  “I didn’t do anything. She just came at me.” Sophie frowns, pressing her body against the doorframe as Nancy Drew passes. I suppress a giggle.

  “I guess she can just sense it, then.” I float my arms around in a large circle. “The meanness is in your aura.”

  Sophie rolls her eyes. “Since when are you into auras?”

  “I’m not,” I say. “I’m also not on the phone with Archer.” I try to sound cheerful, but my words fall flat.

  Pushing herself off the wall, Sophie saunters forward. When I was younger, I would run across the word “saunter” in books, and I couldn’t understand what that would look like. Walking for me is simply a way to get from point A to point B. It’s not fluid or graceful at all. But Sophie’s walk turns heads, commands attention. “He still hasn’t called,” she states it like a fact, not a question. “That’s so weird, especially since he texted right away after the concert.” Tapping her finger against her chin, she appears to be trying to solve some mystery much more important than why a boy hasn’t called me.

  My shoulders bob up and down. “Maybe he forgot about me.”

  “Then we have to remind him.” In one giant step, she reaches my bed. She thrusts her arms forward, weeding through the clothes.

  When she tosses my T-shirt and jeans onto the ground, I bend over to retrieve them. “Hey, that’s what I plan to wear tomorrow.”

  “What about the top we picked out?”

  “You mean the top you picked out,” I say.

  “You liked it, too,” she insists. “And it’s perfect for tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know.” I chomp down on my lower lip.

  “It’s your first day at a new school. You need to make a good impression.”

  I bristle. “I need to be myself.”

  This stops her. Sighing, she nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  My stomach sinks. “It’s okay. I know you’re just trying to help.”

  She smiles. “You want to have some ice cream with me? I saw some in the freezer.”

  I shake my head. “Nah, I was just gonna go watch some TV.” When her smile curls downward, I add, “But you can join me if you want.”

  “And have nightmares the next few nights? No thanks.” Shuddering, she steps around me. “Why you choose to watch those scary shows I’ll never understand.”

  I laugh. “They’re not scary.”

  “They are to me.” Studying me, she bites her lip. “It’s weird, though. You lose it if someone sneezes on you, but you’re completely calm watching shows about people being murdered.”

  “We all fear different things, I guess.”

  Her eyebrows knit together. “Yeah, I guess.” I follow her out into the hallway. Dad rounds the corner before we reach the family room.

  “Hey, girls. Hopefully you’re not headed into the kitchen for ice cream.” His dark eyes sparkle, and his lips curl upward at the corners. He runs a thick hand over his salt and pepper hair.

  “Dad,” Sophie whines. “Please tell me you didn’t eat it all.”

  “I didn’t eat it all,” he says, putting emphasis on the word “all.” I shake my head. Dad has a major sweet tooth.

  “There better be some left.” Sophie shoves past us.

  Dad smirks.

  “You left plenty for her, didn’t you?” I don’t really ask it as a question.

  “Of course I did.” He winks. “Are you all ready for school tomorrow?”

  The familiar nerves attack my insides again. I pull in a breath. “I think so.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Dad assures me. “Remember how nervous you were before starting Hamilton? And you made friends right away.”

  I nod, but the memories crash over me. They roll around in my mind like a movie. When it reaches the painful part, I squeeze my eyes shut. Imagining that it is a movie I press the stop button. Exhaling, I open my eyes again, forcing myself to focus on the present.

  “You okay?” Dad studies me intently.

  “Yeah,” I say swiftly. “I’ve already made a friend at my new school.”

  “Really?”

  I nod. “His name’s Archer. I met him at the concert.”

  “A boy?” Dad straightens his spine. Already I can see that overprotective thing happening, and I regret my words.

  “He’s just a friend, Dad. Okay?”

  “Ooh, are we dishing out the 411 about the boy Kass met at the concert?” Mom rushes over, catching the tail end of the conversation. Her hair is in a messy bun at the top of her head, and she’s wearing a pair of sweatpants. Is it possible that she looks more like a teenager than I do? Glancing down at my flannel pants and wrinkled T-shirt, I’m thinking she does. Ugh.

  “He’s Ross Devlin’s twin brother,” Mom says to Dad. He responds with a blank stare.

  “Am I supposed to know who that is?” Dad frowns.

  “No. You’re not,” I say with a giggle. “Ross is the lead singer of the Playlisters.”

  “Hashtag epic,” Mom says

  “For the millionth time, that’s not how you use hashtags,” I say.

  Reaching forward, Mom touches my nose in a playful way. “Hashtag grumpy.”

  Despite myself, I giggle.

  “If it got you to smile then I absolutely used it in the right way.”

  Man, why did I have to encourage her? “Trust me, you have never used them in the correct way. Smiles or not.”

  “Fine.” She pulls me into a hug. “Well, this out of touch old lady is headed to bed early. It’s been a long day.” Drawing back, she peers into my eyes. “You have everything you need
for tomorrow?”

  I nod, an unexpected knot rising in my throat. After flashing me one more smile, she heads down the hallway toward her room. Dad says good night and then follows her.

  I’m about to head in the opposite direction, when my phone signals a text message. Pulse quickening, I hurry into my room, silently praying it’s from Archer.

  Chapter Nine

  Archer

  @archerdev1 School starts tomorrow. #goodbyesummer #seniorstatus #nomorefreedom #nomoresleepingin

  Mac: I’m getting online. Wanna play a video game?

  Me: Give me a few.

  Mac: What are you doing?

  Me: Getting my stuff ready for tomorrow.

  Mac: You a girl? Picking your dress or some crap?

  Me: No. Doing laundry and making my lunch.

  Mac: You don’t have a mom?

  Me: Your mom still does that for you?

  Mac: My mom loves me.

  Me: At least someone does.

  Mac: Ouch.

  Me: I’m going to text Kassidy to see if she wants to meet before school.

  Mac: Have you listened to nothing I’ve said?

  Me: I have listened to you. That’s why I haven’t texted her. But I told her I’d help her out the first day of school.

  Mac: Do you want to be friends, or do you want to date her?

  Me: I don’t know.

  Mac: C’mon, man.

  Me: I’d like to date her.

  Mac: Then don’t come on too strong or you’ll be friend-zoned.

  Me: Happens to you a lot, huh?

  Mac: Nope. I know better.

  Me: Nah. You’re just not that great of a friend.

  Mac: Screw you. I’m the best friend you’ve ever had.

  Me: Sadly, that’s true. Whatever, man, I’m going to text her.

  …

  Me: Hey, Kassidy. It’s Archer. We met at the Playlisters concert.

  Kassidy: I remember.

  Me: I’m pretty unforgettable, huh?

  Kassidy: Well, the concert was.

  Me: Because you met me?

  Kassidy: Definitely the highlight.

  Me: What was the last concert you went to before that one?

  Kassidy: The Wine Stains.

  Me: I was there, too.

  Kassidy: You were?

  Me: Yeah. Ross dragged me. He’s a huge fan.

  Kassidy: You’re kidding.

  Me: Nope.

  Kassidy: Weird.

  Me: Yeah, I agree. He’s a weird guy.

  Kassidy: No. I meant weird like interesting. Most people don’t like indie bands.

  Me: Ross likes all kinds of music.

  Kassidy: What about you?

  Me: I mostly like rap.

  Kassidy: Rap? Really?

  Me: Yeah. Why? You don’t?

  Kassidy: It’s okay. You just don’t strike me as the rapper type.

  Me: Hey, when I spit, it’s pretty fire.

  Kassidy: Ha ha! I doubt that.

  Me: Tomorrow I’ll prove it.

  …

  Mac: Dude, are we playing video games or what?

  Me: Sorry. I’ll log on in a minute.

  Mac: Please tell me you’re not texting that girl.

  Me: Okay. I won’t tell you.

  Mac: You’re killing me, man. Say good-bye to the nice girl and log onto the game.

  Me: Dude, chill.

  Mac: Just do it.

  Me: Fine. One more minute.

  Mac: I’m counting down.

  …

  Me: Meet me in the parking lot before school.

  Kassidy: Okay.

  Me: Great. I’ll text you when I get there.

  Kassidy: Sounds good.

  …

  Mac: Archer?

  Me: I’m right here. I’m logging on.

  Mac: Cool. Get ready for me to kick your ass.

  Me: You wish.

  …

  Ella: Some of us are meeting for coffee before school tomorrow. Wanna join?

  Me: I can’t. Sorry.

  Ella: Okay. See ya at school, then.

  Me: See ya.

  Chapter Ten

  Kassidy

  #5—Start a new school

  My alarm blares, the incessant buzzing startling me awake. With my eyes closed, I roll over. Throwing out my arm, I swat in the general vicinity of the sound. Miraculously, my palm makes contact with the correct button. Glorious silence blankets me. As I absently toss off my covers, I imagine going on a run, making my smoothie, and then hanging out here reading and lounging around the rest of the day. Then it hits me. Only the first two items will get checked off my list

  It’s my first day of school.

  Ugh.

  Groaning, I sit up. A slight headache pricks at the back of my eyes. Turning to the side, my neck aches. I stretch my arms toward the ceiling, hoping to work out the kinks in my neck and body. And that’s when it hits me.

  A stiff neck.

  A headache.

  Maybe it’s something more serious. My body goes hot and my heart rate picks up. By the time I slide off the bed, my breath is coming out in sharp spurts, and I feel nauseous.

  Is this a panic attack or something else?

  Weight crushes my chest. I stumble out of my room. The walls sway around me. My lungs burn as if they’re on fire.

  Is this what a heart attack feels like?

  Am I dying?

  “Mom?” I call out in a shaky voice when I reach her door.

  “Kass?” Her muffled voice replies. I hear the rustling of covers, the shuffling of feet. The door opens, and Mom’s worried face greets me. “You okay?”

  I shake my head. “I think something’s wrong. I have a headache…and a stiff neck.” My gaze meets hers, waiting for understanding.

  Instead, she sighs, a frown painting her face. “You probably just kinked your neck in your sleep.”

  It’s what most people would think. But I’m not most people. Not anymore. “But what if that’s not it? What if it’s—more than that?”

  Mom nods. “Can you move your neck? Touch your chin to your chest.”

  I do as I’m told. It moves easily, and in fact, it’s feeling less sore by the minute. My headache rages on, though. Reaching out, Mom places a cool hand over my forehead.

  “No fever.” She catches my eye. “I really think you’re just nervous about today, but you don’t feel hot.” I take hold of her words, repeating them in my head over and over, wanting to believe them. “Why don’t you go on your run and see how you feel afterward?”

  I force myself to agree. As I picture myself jogging down the street, my chest expands, some of the panic dissipating. Yeah, a run always makes me feel better. It’s actually why I started running. My parents had suggested it, and it seemed to help. Once I got my adrenaline going I felt less agitated, less worried. Besides, I am nervous about today. That’s probably all this is.

  Whirling around, I hurry to my room. I’ve wasted precious running time with my little panic attack. I quickly throw on my running clothes. Once my hair is pulled into a tight ponytail and my shoes are laced up, I head outside.

  The air is crisp and cool, smelling of grass and damp asphalt. Fall is my favorite season in Oakhollow. I love when the leaves change color, painting the trees in auburn, orange, and gold. I love the cooler temperatures. And I love when the neighbors decorate with pumpkins and scarecrows. Everything about it feels cozy and festive.

  I start jogging. Icy air skates over my skin. My legs find a rhythm and pretty soon my heart is beating at a good pace, my body warming.

  I let the anxiety of the morning slide away. My neck no longer feels sore and kinked, and my headache is almost gone.

  By the time I finish my run, the sun is bright in the sky and cars begin to fill up the roads.

  Mom is up making breakfast when I enter the kitchen. She turns, spatula in hand.

  “Feeling better?” she asks.

  “Much.” I wipe sweat from my brow.


  “Good.” She smiles briefly as I walk over to the fridge.

  After making my smoothie, I head to my room. Butterflies attack my stomach as I get ready for school. Who switches schools their senior year? It’s crazy. At Hamilton, I know everyone. At Oakhollow I know literally one person, sort of.

  After getting dressed, I head to Sophie’s room.

  Her eyes widen. “Oh, my gosh. You’re actually wearing it.”

  I glance down at the top. “You swear it looks okay?”

  “Yes,” she assures me, and I feel instant relief. I want to look my best for Archer. Her gaze travels up to my head and her nose scrunches. “Are you keeping your hair like that?”

  Reaching up, I finger my messy bun. “Why? You think I shouldn’t?”

  She shakes her head.

  My stomach sinks. “It’s probably all kinked now. I don’t have time to straighten it.”

  “I can fix it for you real fast,” she says excitedly.

  “Okay.” I look at the makeup lining Sophie’s dresser. “And—um—maybe you could give me some makeup tips.”

  “Really?” A broad smile sweeps her face. “I’ve been waiting for this day forever.” Practically shaking with excitement, she hurries to her dresser. “Okay, let me just grab my contour palette, my highlighter—ooh, and maybe some shimmer shadow.” Her head bounces up. “And I just got this really cool décolletage sparkle. It would look amazing with that top.”

  “Huh?” I didn’t even think my sister knew a word that big.

  “You know, for your chest.”

  “You want me to put sparkles on my chest?”

  What have I gotten myself into?

  …

  My hands are slick as I drive to school. I wipe them alternately on the thighs of my jeans. With quivering fingers, I turn up the volume on my playlist. It’s a Wine Stains song. If Kate were in the car, she’d ask me to turn it off. But she’s not. I can play it as loud as I want. Gone are the days of letting her dictate my life. I’m on my own now.

  At a stoplight, I check my face in the mirror. I should’ve let Sophie give me a makeover before now. At first I was worried she’d overdo it, but she didn’t. It’s still me, just slightly upgraded. Kassidy 2.0.

  And, thankfully, my chest is sparkle-free.

  I wonder what Archer will think about the new look.

  Archer’s good looking, easy to talk to, and not like a lot of jerks his age. He seems too good to be true.