Friends, Fugues, and Fortune Cookies

by Michelle Schusterman

  I swallowed a bite of sandwich without chewing and coughed. All-region was Saturday. Great, just what my stomach needed. At this rate, I’d have to ask Dad for some of his ulcer medicine.

  “Better,” I said hoarsely. But the truth was I hadn’t even played it since before the volleyball game. “You?”

  “Yeah, better,” she said, her voice still way too perky. “Those couple of measures near the end are still kind of hit or miss, but I think the rest of it sounds pretty good.”

  We spent the rest of lunch talking about all-region. Or rather, Natasha did. Anytime Julia or I tried to change the subject, she’d go off again about whether or not we’d have to play in front of other kids, what time she should get there, or what being in a band with kids from other schools would be like if she actually made it. A few minutes before lunch ended, Natasha suddenly jumped off the bench.

  “I forgot my Spanish book in the band hall again!” she exclaimed, laughing that strange, high laugh. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “That makes three of us,” Julia said once she’d left the cafeteria. “What is up with her today?”

  “I was hoping you’d know,” I replied, shrugging. “She hasn’t said anything to me.”

  “Nope, me neither.” Julia glanced up when the bell rang. “I’ve got math with her right now. I’ll find out what the deal is.”

  When I got to science, I hesitated in the doorway. Owen was already at his desk, pencil flying over his sketchbook.

  For a second, I debated on just acting like nothing had happened. But I knew better than that. The best thing to do would be to rip off the Band-Aid.

  Squaring my shoulders, I headed to my desk.

  “Hi, Owen!”

  “Hi, Holly.” He glanced up at me for the briefest of seconds.

  “Hey, sorry about Friday.”

  That caught him off guard. He looked up at me, blinking furiously. “What?”

  Sinking down into my chair, I tried to smile at him. “For, you know, freaking out. Spitting Coke all over the place.” My voice was a little high, but at least it wasn’t doing that cheerleader thing again. “I know you only asked me to the dance as friends.”

  His face relaxed just a tiny bit. “Oh. Don’t worry about it.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

  Owen glanced back at his sketchbook, then looked at me again. “Holly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you, um . . . ?” He blinked. “Can I borrow your highlighter?”

  “Sure.” I dug it out of my backpack and handed it to him, and he smiled and said thanks. But I knew that wasn’t what he really wanted to ask me, because I could see the green tip of his own highlighter sticking out of his overstuffed pencil bag.

  Still, things were much less awkward already. After Mrs. Driscoll went over today’s chapter, we headed to our lab stations. Owen and I joked around as usual while we examined different plant cells under the microscope. It wasn’t completely normal, though. More like two people pretending things were normal. But I figured that couldn’t last forever. At least, I hoped not.

  I was already powering on my computer when Julia got to seventh period.

  “Everything’s okay with Owen,” I told her, typing in my password. “I mean, it’s still kind of weird, but I guess maybe things will just have to be weird for a while, and eventually they’ll go back to normal. Don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, definitely.” Julia pressed the power button on her computer, chewing the inside of her cheek. I glanced at her.

  “Something wrong?”

  After a few seconds, she tore her eyes away from her screen and looked at me. My stomach sank. Something was up, and whatever it was, I had the feeling I wasn’t going to like it.

  “I talked to Natasha,” Julia said. “You know, about why she was acting so weird today.”

  “Is she okay?” I asked immediately.

  “Yeah, it’s just . . .” Julia squeezed her eyes shut briefly. “Ugh, Holly. I hate having to tell you this.” Sighing, she turned her chair so that she was facing me.

  “Aaron asked Natasha to the dance.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “It was right before band, in the cubbies,” Julia went on quickly. “Natasha said she was really surprised, she wasn’t expecting him to or anything . . . and she, um . . . she said yes.” She stopped, giving me a worried look. “Holly?”

  The bell rang, and Ms. Vanzetti started giving instructions on our assignment for today. Which was a good thing, because I had no idea what to say to Julia. I just stared blankly at my screen.

  Aaron liked Natasha.

  My chest felt hollow, like there was a little hole in there growing bigger and bigger by the second.

  I could feel Julia staring at me. When Ms. Vanzetti moved to the other side of the lab to help someone, Julia leaned closer. She didn’t say anything, just waited. I blinked a few times, then shook my head.

  “I don’t get it,” I said at last, my voice hoarse. “I didn’t even know they . . .”

  “I guess they talk a lot after school,” Julia said. “And, you know, they ended up hanging out when their group met to bake all that stuff for the volleyball game last week.” She paused. “Holly, Natasha is really, really worried about this. She’s so afraid of hurting your feelings.”

  Julia’s words barely registered. What was it Gabby had told me? I replayed it in my head, because it was a distraction from that horrible gnawing feeling that was getting worse by the second. Sophie had overheard Liam say something to Aaron about asking someone to the dance, and Aaron had said he’d been about to, but they were interrupted.

  That was right after the volleyball game. And suddenly, I knew exactly what had happened. In my mind, I saw Aaron and Natasha on the other side of the gym, talking. I saw Trevor, arms flailing, falling straight back into our table and bringing the whole game to a halt. That was it—Aaron had been about to ask Natasha to the dance that night, but he was cut off because of Trevor’s accident.

  So this whole time it was Natasha he really liked.

  Finally, I turned to look at Julia. “So she . . . she likes him, then?”

  Julia was quiet for a second. “I think . . . I think that’s something you should ask Natasha, not me.”

  After school, I walked to Natasha’s house so slowly you’d think there were lead balls chained to my feet. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, or even if I really wanted to talk to her yet. But I knew that if I put it off, things would be even weirder between us tomorrow. It was just like with Owen—I had to get it over with.

  Two Band-Aid rippings in one day. No wonder I felt so raw.

  I stood on the Prynnes' porch for a solid minute before finally ringing the bell. When Natasha opened the door and saw me, her eyes widened the same way they had when she saw the toothless zombie clowns at the Asylum.

  “Holly!” She tried to smile, but it was shaky.

  “Hey.” I tried to smile back. “Um . . . can I come in?”

  “Yeah! Sure!” That weird perky voice again. I was surprised to find I suddenly felt bad for Natasha. She’d probably been obsessing over talking to me about this all day. Just like I’d been so worried about fixing things with Owen.

  When did keeping friendships get so hard? I wondered as I followed her into the kitchen.

  “Want a drink?” Natasha asked, opening the fridge. “We’ve got lemonade, orange juice . . . I think there’s some soda in here somewhere . . .”

  I thought about Owen and the Coke and almost laughed. “Nah, I’m okay.”

  “Okay.” She closed the door, and neither of us spoke for a few seconds.

  This was how things used to be between me and Natasha—majorly uncomfortable. Except it’s different now. We used to want to hurt each other’s feelings, and now we’re
worried we will.

  “Julia told me about Aaron,” I said. Rip.

  Natasha nodded, staring at her fingernails.

  “I’m not mad or anything,” I went on quickly. “I know you weren’t . . . you know . . . trying to . . .”

  “I wasn’t, I promise!” Natasha’s face was pink, and her eyes were suddenly watery. “I didn’t know he was going to ask, it really surprised me, and I—I said yes, but Holly, I’ll tell him I can’t go if you want me to.”

  I gaped at her. “You would do that?”

  Natasha nodded fervently. “I know you’ve liked him longer than—um, for a long time. I don’t want this to mess up our friendship.”

  Despite how hurt I’d felt all day, I was touched. But at the same time, even though I knew it wasn’t what Natasha intended, I felt even more humiliated. So she would tell Aaron she didn’t want to go with him . . . and then what? I’d ask him, knowing he didn’t like me that way?

  Being second chair to Natasha in band was one thing—that’s how band worked. But this was different. It wasn’t just that I wanted to go to the dance with Aaron; I wanted him to want to go with me. But he didn’t, so . . .

  “You should go with him,” I said. Natasha stared at me.

  “What?”

  “You like him, right?” Please, please just admit it, I thought.

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  “Yeah. I do.”

  I smiled at her. “Then you should go with him. It’s totally fine,” I added when she started to protest. “Really. We’re still friends, I promise.”

  Natasha let out a shaky laugh, wiping her eyes. “You really are the best, Holly,” she said, and we hugged. My own eyes were dry, but I could feel the tears building up.

  I could hold them in until I got home, though. I was getting pretty good at that.

  Chapter Eight

  T uesday was stellar.

  Julia found me practicing in the band hall before school (because there was no way I was going to hang out around Aaron’s locker now). She came into my practice room just as I finished running through Fugue in F Minor for the tenth time.

  “Sounds great!” she said brightly.

  I shrugged. “It’s getting better. I still mess up the last four measures every other time, though.”

  Julia waved a hand dismissively. “You’re going to do awesome at all-region auditions on Saturday. I bet you make it.”

  Setting my horn down, I smiled at her. “I’m okay, Julia. You don’t have to do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “You know.” I slid the music back into my folder. “Being extra nice because of the whole Aaron and Natasha thing. I’m fine, I promise. And I talked to Natasha yesterday, by the way.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Julia said. “She called me. But that’s the first time we’ve ever talked about it,” she added hurriedly. “Honestly, Holly, I had no idea she liked him and—”

  “It’s fine,” I said, wondering if fine was going to become my word of the week. “I know.”

  Julia watched me reorganize my sheet music. “Holly . . .”

  “Yeah?” I stood up, folder in one hand and horn in the other. Julia stood, too, and gave me a quick hug. And even though I appreciated it, I sort of wished she hadn’t, because my throat got really tight.

  “I’m really, really sorry,” she said.

  I swallowed. “I know. But don’t worry, I’m okay. Really.”

  Maybe if I kept saying it, eventually it would be true.

  When I got to English first period, there was a bag of M&M’s on my desk.

  “Thanks,” I said to Gabby, who gave me a sympathetic smile.

  “Anytime,” she replied. “Look, Holly, I heard about Aaron and Natasha, and I’m so—”

  “It’s fine.” It came out sharper than I intended, and Gabby held her hands up in defense.

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  I felt kind of bad, but more than that, I was starting to get annoyed. It was humiliating enough that I’d spent the past few weeks so sure that Aaron liked me. All this pity made me feel even worse.

  I was dreading band so much, I actually found myself wanting PE to last longer. How completely pathetic. But right now, eternal laps sounded way more appealing then sitting in the middle of the Triangle of Extreme Awkward.

  Because that’s what band had become. For fifty excruciating minutes, I tried to focus on rehearsal. But just two seats over to my left was the guy who’d asked me to the dance and who I’d turned down because I thought I was going with the guy seated directly behind me, who ended up asking the girl sitting on my right, who knew I had a crush on him and had secretly liked him the whole time, too.

  It was kind of hard to concentrate on music.

  But hey, at least I didn’t have to deal with awkwardness at lunch. Not.

  Back when Natasha and I hated each other, lunch consisted of us making catty remarks back and forth while Julia barely said a word. Now that we were trying so hard not to hurt each other’s feelings, Julia couldn’t stop talking.

  “So then Kelly and I got up to recite our scene, but I think Ms. Jacobs missed, like, half of it because she kept trying to tell Mark to take off that wig. She seriously didn’t believe him that it was actually stuck on until finally she went over and yanked on it and he screamed. It was so funny! I bet she totally regrets having us do these skits—Holly, you guys are studying Shakespeare in English, too, right? But I bet Mr. Franks doesn’t make you get up and act out scenes from Romeo and Juliet in class. Oh hey, did I tell you guys what happened in PE yesterday?”

  After three days, I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew why Julia was talking so much—she was just trying to keep the subject away from Aaron. But if the three of us never just talked about it, it would only get more awkward. I mean, what if Natasha ended up being his girlfriend? We couldn’t skirt the subject forever. No matter how much it made me feel like my heart had shriveled up like a raisin.

  So when we sat down at our lunch table Thursday, I turned to Natasha before Julia could say a single word.

  “Hey, have you found a dress for the dance yet?”

  Natasha’s mouth fell open, but she closed it quickly. I gave her an encouraging smile, unwrapping my sandwich. Julia was frozen with one hand in her lunch bag.

  “Uh . . . no, not yet,” Natasha replied at last. “Actually, I think my mom’s taking me shopping Sunday. What about you?”

  I shook my head. “I heard Milanie’s is having a sale this weekend, though—you should check it out! They always have cute stuff.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julia relax a tiny bit. Natasha smiled gratefully at me.

  “Okay, I will. Thanks, Holly.”

  Things were a little better after that. Still, I was mentally drained by the time I got to science. Owen didn’t seem to be in a very talkative mood, either, so we didn’t chat much while we did our lab. I didn’t think anything was wrong, though. Not until he said, “We can’t hang out after school today.”

  I looked up from my worksheet, startled. Owen was busy cleaning the microscope slides and putting them back in their cases.

  “Oh.” I could feel myself starting to blush. “Um, okay. Why?”

  “Megan’s got a recital at school. I promised Mom I’d go. Sorry,” he added, glancing at me.

  “It’s fine,” I said lightly. “We’ll catch up next week. Cyborgs versus Ninjas, right? I’ve got a bet to win.”

  “Right.” Owen smiled, but it looked forced.

  Owen wouldn’t lie. He just wouldn’t. That’s what I told myself over and over during my last two agonizingly slow classes. If he said his stepsister had a recital, it must be true.

  That didn’t stop a nagging voice in my head from insisting that he just didn’t want to hang out with me anymore, though. I thought apologizing on Monday
would make things better with Owen, that eventually things would go back to normal. But if I was really honest with myself, things were slowly getting worse.

  Maybe nothing would ever be normal again, with Owen or Natasha.

  Chapter Nine

  I stayed after school to practice my all-region piece some more. Partly because I was nervous about auditions, partly because when I told Mom before school that I wasn’t going to Owen’s, she kept asking why. I still didn’t feel like talking about it.

  I practiced before and after school on Friday, too. One good thing about all my friendships falling apart—I knew Fugue in F Minor backward and forward. The last few measures were still kind of rocky, but I was starting to think I might actually pull it off tomorrow.

  Saturday morning, I stood by the front door with my horn case at my feet, checking my music folder for the hundredth time. “Mom, we’re going to be late!” I hollered.

  She poked her head out of the kitchen. “That letter you brought home from Mr. Dante said to be at the high school at nine.”

  “So?”

  “It’s seven thirty, Holly.”

  “But there might be traffic!”

  Mom sighed. “Honey, the high school is less than a mile from here and it’s Saturday morning. I think we’ll be okay. Besides, you need to eat something.”

  My stomach squirmed at the thought. “No way. Too nervous.”

  “Just come in here, okay?”

  Ugh. I left my folder on top of my horn case and trudged obediently into the kitchen. After last week’s walking-home-from-Owen’s incident, I wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. (Even worse, Dad had told Mom he thought I was having “boy problems.” Which, well, maybe it was true, but it was so not anything I wanted to talk about with my parents.)

  Mom sat back down at the table, cradling a mug of coffee in her hands. The letter from Mr. Dante was next to her napkin.

  “According to this, you won’t know what time you audition until the schedule is up in the cafeteria at nine,” Mom said. “For all you know, you won’t play until noon. You really need to eat something.”