A lot of what I did sounded ridiculous. But the more I played, the more I discovered ways to make the étude a lot cooler. There were a few measures near the end with a busy rhythm that, when I sped up the tempo just a little, sounded really tense. And if I stretched out the high note at the end of the phrase, then played slightly softer in the next few measures, it was like all that tension just released.
I kept experimenting, looking for more little tricks like that, until the étude went from “perfect but boring” to something I’d actually want to listen to.
Chad came home with a bunch of Chinese food from Lotus Garden, which we ate with Mom and Dad while watching the first House of the Wicked. “Did you see the preview for that mutant-clown movie?” Chad asked me. “Looks kind of cool.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yup, I really want to see it.”
“I honestly don’t know where you two got this horror obsession from,” Mom muttered, holding a carton of fried shrimp in front of her eyes to block the television.
Back in my room, I considered practicing some more, even though my lips were still pretty tired. But auditions weren’t the real reason I was nervous about tomorrow. I’d been trying to distract myself all day, but it was time to figure out what I was going to say to Owen.
It’s my favorite class because you’re in it. I felt kind of giddy every time I thought about him telling me that. Which was immediately followed by a dose of guilt when I remembered how I’d been in such a hurry to get out of there.
Glancing at the stack of Warlock cards on my dresser, I suddenly had an idea. I opened my desk, which was mostly filled with old notebooks and quizzes from last semester. Tucked away in the back was a different set of cards—the ones Owen had made to help me study for science at the beginning of the year.
I flipped through them, grinning at some of the pictures (the mouse wearing a wizard’s hat was still my favorite). Then I dug out a pack of note cards and some colored pencils.
An hour later, I had ten of the most hilariously awful drawings ever. I tried the wizard mouse, along with a few cyborgs and ninjas, crazy Santas wielding band instruments, mutant clowns, alien fish, and, on the last card, both of our characters from Prophets, driving a tank that for some reason came out looking like a giant radio with wheels.
After scribbling a few words on the back of each card, I laid them out in order.
BET YOU
I CAN
GUESS THE
ENDING TO
MUTANT CLOWNS
FROM
PLANET Z!
WANT TO
MAKE IT
A DATE?
Smiling, I shuffled the cards so they were out of order, secured them with a rubber band, and stuck them in my backpack. I was definitely no artist, but hopefully Owen would like these all the same.
Mom dropped me off at school Monday morning at what she called “an absurd hour.” She kind of had a point—I’d never seen the halls so quiet. But I wanted to warm up before my audition.
When I walked into the cubby room and saw a sixth-grade boy already opening his French horn case, I was a little surprised.
“Hi!” I said. “Are you auditioning this morning, too?”
“Yes.” He sounded nervous. “Are you?”
“Yup! I’m Holly,” I added, setting my case down.
“I’m Brian.”
On my way to the practice rooms, I checked the audition schedule on Mr. Dante’s door. Natasha was right after me, then Brian. He was here extra early, too, I thought with a smile.
I warmed up slowly, then played through the étude. I could hear Brian playing in the room next door. He sounded great, especially for a beginner. On my way back to Mr. Dante’s office, I paused outside Brian’s door to listen a little longer, wondering if all the beginner horns were this good. No matter what, we’d have a pretty awesome French horn section next year in advanced band, which made me happy.
Mr. Dante’s door was already open. Inside, he’d set up a chair and a music stand. “Morning, Holly!” he said, setting a to-go cup of coffee on his desk. “So you signed up for the very first spot—why am I not surprised?”
I grinned, setting my folder on the music stand. “I just met one of the beginner French horns. He sounds really good.”
Glancing at the list on his door, Mr. Dante smiled. “Brian, yeah. He’s quite the perfectionist. Reminds me of a certain seventh-grader at the beginning of this year, actually,” he added pointedly, and I laughed. “Do you need to warm up, or are you ready?”
“I’m ready!” After moving the music stand a little closer, I sat up straight, lifted my horn, and played.
Just like yesterday, I focused on making the étude sound cool—a song I’d actually want to listen to. I added a few of the little touches I’d rehearsed, like pushing the tempo in certain places, or playing soft in measures with no dynamic markings. But there were a few spontaneous changes, too. One phrase in particular came out light and staccato, which surprised me—it almost sounded playful. When I finished, I set my horn in my lap and studied the sheet music, chewing my lip. I definitely hadn’t played it exactly the way it was written . . . but I really, really liked how it had sounded.
It was a few seconds before I realized Mr. Dante was beaming.
“Now that,” he said, “was musical.”
Blushing, I smiled. “Thanks. It’s okay that I kind of, um . . . changed it a little?”
“You didn’t change it,” Mr. Dante told me. “You interpreted it. You took the notes on the page, and you played them the way you hear the music. Big difference, right?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, pleased. “It’s a lot more fun this way.”
“I agree,” Mr. Dante said, scribbling something down in his notebook. “Well, if you’ve made this much progress in seventh grade, I can’t wait to see what next year’s going to be like.”
I grinned. “Thanks! Me too.”
Natasha was waiting outside the office when I opened the door, her eyes wide. “Holly, you sounded amazing!” she said. “Seriously . . . wow.”
“Thank you!” I stepped out of the way. “Good luck!”
“Wait for me, okay?” Natasha asked as she walked into the office. “We can walk to the cafeteria together—I think they’ve got pancakes for breakfast.”
“Okay!”
I noticed Brian perched on the edge of a chair, wearing an anxious expression. “You sounded great in the practice room,” I told him with an encouraging smile.
“Oh . . . thank you,” he said, looking surprised.
“Good luck!” I headed back to the cubby room, feeling ridiculously cheerful. After putting my horn away, I took the cards I’d made for Owen out of my backpack. I checked to make sure they were shuffled before looking in Owen’s cubby, which was empty except for his music folder. So he’d have to come to the band hall before first period to put his horn up, I realized. I shoved the cards to the back of the cubby. Then I thought he might not find them back there, so I pulled them to the very front. Then I started worrying someone else would see them, so maybe I should—
“Holly?”
I spun around, still holding the cards. Owen stood right behind me, obviously confused. Well, at least his eyelids were working again.
“Owen, hi! I didn’t, um . . .” I stopped, clearing my throat to get rid of the helium-balloon pitch. “You’re here early! Is your audition this morning?”
He shook his head. “It’s after school. But I’ve got a group presentation in Spanish first period, and we’re supposed to meet in five minutes.” I saw him glance curiously at the cards in my hand, and realized I was still standing in front of his cubby.
“Oh sorry!” I stepped aside quickly, waiting until he put his case away before holding the cards out. “These are for you.”
Owen stared at the top card, which
just said GUESS THE. After a second, he looked up. “Is this for class or something?”
“No, it’s . . .” I couldn’t seem to get my voice back to normal. “It’s a game. Just for you, though—don’t try to play it with anyone else!” I added quickly, and the blinking started again.
“A game?”
I nodded. “Kind of . . . well, you’ll see.” I took a deep breath. “And I know you’re in a hurry, but I’m really sorry I left so fast at the science fair after, um . . .” I felt my face start to heat up. “After, you know, we cleaned up all that plastic stuff. I just—I guess I was sort of embarrassed about knocking it over, and—”
“I’m starving,” Natasha announced as she entered the cubby room, startling me. She started to say something else before she noticed me and Owen standing there, both pink-faced. Looking amused, Natasha quickly opened her case and placed her horn inside. “Meet you later in the cafeteria?” she asked me lightly.
“Actually, I’ve really got to get to Spanish,” Owen said. “But I’ll, um . . .” He glanced at the cards before giving me a quick, shy smile. “I’ll see you in fourth, I guess?”
I smiled back, relieved. “Okay, yeah.”
After he left, I let out a long, slow breath. “Ugh.”
“I’m so sorry!” Natasha said, giggling. “I had no idea he was in here. So what happened?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Well, I apologized. But that was it.”
“What was he holding—did you give him something?”
“Yeah. I kind of made a card game.” I picked up my backpack. “Let’s go get breakfast, okay? You’re going to make fun of me for this, so I at least deserve some pancakes first.”
“Hang on—you asked him out with flash cards?” Eyebrows arched, Gabby snuck a handful of M&M’s into her mouth as Mr. Franks moved around the room, handing back our research papers.
“It sounds dorky when you say it like that,” I said.
She snickered. “Um, maybe because it is dorky. However . . .” Gabby paused to shove the M&M’s into her pencil bag as Mr. Franks stopped next to her, stepping around the poster boards leaning against the side of her desk.
“Are these for another class?” he asked, nudging the poster boards.
Gabby nodded. “History,” she mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate.
“Ah.” Mr. Franks set her paper down with a bemused smile. “Let’s keep the candy put away for the rest of class, shall we?”
“Yes, sir,” Gabby replied with a salute. Mr. Franks handed me my paper, then continued down the row. I flipped open the cover page and sighed in relief—92. After all that research and revising, it was nice to get an A. I almost felt like I knew Eleanor Roosevelt better than I knew myself.
“Anyway, I know Owen will like the cards,” I told Gabby, sticking my paper in my binder. “Dorky or not.”
“I never said he wouldn’t,” she replied, grinning. “Actually, I was going to say that I bet he loves it. Further proof you’re perfect for each other, I guess.”
I felt pretty giddy for most of the morning. But by the time the bell rang to end third period, it was more like half giddy, half nervous. I did think Owen would like the cards, but there was still the matter of actually talking to him about going from being friends to . . . whatever we were now.
Pushing the band-hall doors open, I spotted Owen right away, already in his chair and talking to Trevor. I hurried into the cubby room, feeling weirdly shy all of a sudden. When I pulled my horn case out of my cubby, a sheet of paper fluttered to the ground. My heart thumped extra hard when I realized it was a sketch.
I picked it up, facing my cubby so no one could see the enormous smile stretching my cheeks. It was the cartoon aliens from our commercial—the green ones, a boy with yellow hair and a girl with a brown ponytail, holding hands. They were in the UFO slingshot, which was under attack by some pretty wicked-looking mutant clowns. In the background, along with a bunch of stars, I saw a small planet labeled Z.
Even though Owen probably hadn’t had much time between classes to work on it, I was amazed at how good the sketch was anyway. It was definitely going up on my bulletin board next to Holly’s Haunted Zoo.
Turning, I saw Julia across the cubby room, putting her clarinet together and talking to Natasha. Next to her, Gabby was struggling to keep the poster boards rolled up as she stuck them in her cubby. I practically skipped over to them.
“Look!” I held out the sketch, then lowered it when Julia and Natasha shrieked. “What?”
“Those clowns are even worse than the ones on that movie poster!” Julia cried, still shielding her eyes. “Why would you show me that?”
“No, it’s . . .” I stopped, laughing. “I’m sorry! I forgot about the clowns. But look at the other part!”
Cramming the last poster board away, Gabby took the sketch. “Oh my God, is that alien Holly and alien Owen?” When I nodded, she cracked up. “I was so right—you guys are a match made in heaven. Or in space, I guess,” she added, handing the sketch back. I slipped it behind the sheet music in my folder, still smiling uncontrollably.
We walked into the band hall just as Mr. Dante stepped onto the podium. “Everyone take your seats, please.”
Feeling self-conscious again, I sat down in my chair and smiled at Owen. But before I could say anything, even just a whispered “thanks,” Gabby reached behind Natasha and me and thumped him on the back.
“Nice,” she said with a wink before sitting down. Owen laughed a little, staring at his knees.
Mr. Dante started our warm-ups, and I did my best to focus. Concentration was pretty much a lost cause, though. I kept glancing at the clock and trying to figure out what to say after rehearsal. Because I was determined to talk to Owen before lunch.
Apparently he had the same idea, because he took an extra-long time putting his music away when Mr. Dante dismissed us. I dawdled, too, cleaning my mouthpiece about a dozen times. Julia and Natasha put their instruments up and hurried out of the band hall without waiting for me, like they’d read my mind.
Owen and I walked to the cubby room together. Gabby was pulling the rolled-up poster boards from her slot. Just a few others were left, including Trevor. Who, I realized, was probably expecting to walk to lunch with us, since we all sat together.
But to my surprise, he walked over to Gabby. “History presentation?” Trevor asked, pointing to the poster boards.
“Yeah, but not till sixth,” Gabby said. “I’ve been hauling this stuff around all day—I didn’t have time to drop it off in the morning, and . . .” She stopped, staring as Trevor took two of the poster boards. “Uh, what are you doing?”
Trevor shrugged. “You’ve got PE next, right? I’ve got lunch, so I can help you take this stuff to the gym first.” When Gabby continued to gape at him, he rolled his eyes and headed out of the cubby room. “You could try saying thank you, Princess Flores!” he called over his shoulder.
After a second, Gabby grabbed her backpack and hurried after him. I heard her say “Thank you, Mr. Chivalrous!” in a singsong voice just before the band-hall doors swung closed behind them.
Owen and I stared at each other. “What just happened?” I said in disbelief. Owen shook his head, laughing.
“No idea.”
An awkward silence descended, and I stared at my shoes. Then Owen cleared his throat.
“Thanks for the cards.” I looked up to find him smiling. “Those pictures were, um . . .”
“Awful?” I supplied. “The worst drawings ever?”
“I recognized most of them, but . . .” Pulling the cards out of his pocket, Owen flipped through them and held one out. “What is that, exactly?”
I tried to keep a straight face. “What do you think it is?”
Dutifully, Owen studied the card again, pressing his lips together like he was trying not to laugh. “Well, it looks l
ike a rock with eyes wearing a party hat. And . . . is that a worm?”
I sighed. “That’s the tail. It’s a mouse in a wizard’s hat. From the study cards you made for science last semester, remember?”
Owen blinked. “Oh yeah. Wait—do you still have those?”
“Of course!”
The way he smiled when I said that made me blush. I hadn’t thought saving those cards was a big deal, but apparently it was.
“So, that sketch . . .” I swallowed nervously. “That was a yes? About the, um . . . the date?” Owen nodded, and I exhaled, beaming. “Do you maybe want to have dinner at my house sometime, too?” I asked. “My mom said I could invite you. And don’t worry, my parents won’t let Chad be all annoying like when he drove us to the movies. He just likes to do the whole boyfriend-interrogation thing. I mean, not that you’re my boyfriend. Unless you want to be? I mean, do you . . .” I trailed off. This was a pretty epic ramble, even for me.
Owen was still smiling. “Yes.”
“Okay,” I said. “Wait—yes to which question?”
He laughed, blushing. “Um . . . all of them.”
“Oh.”
I stood there for a second, feeling light-headed and wondering if I had the courage to kiss him again. But as it turned out, it didn’t matter. Because this time, he kissed me first.
Five final exams, four and a half days, and one concert to go until summer. It felt like time sped up the closer I got to the end of my Summer Countdown Calendar. I’d been going to Owen’s house almost every day after school—in between studying for our final exams, we were working on a new, secret cartoon project for the spring concert.
On Wednesday night, Owen came over to my house for dinner. We ordered a bunch of food from Lotus Garden, and (with the help of a few warning looks from Mom) Chad even managed to behave himself. Except for when I cracked open my fortune cookie and found a message that said LOVE IS ON THE WAY and he snorted Coke out his nose. (He wasn’t so amused when his fortune read YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT TREASURES YOU POSSESS . . . UNTIL YOU CLEAN YOUR ROOM. Judging from the look on Mom’s face, I was pretty sure she’d snuck that one in there herself.)
Crushes, Codas, and Corsages #4 Page 11
