Stacy's Song

by Jacqueline Seewald

  “Sounds just like him,” Greg sympathized. “We used to be friends a long time ago, played together on the same baseball team. He was our star pitcher and the toughest man to put out but he always expected a lot from all of us, too much. Never satisfied, that was him.”

  “Were you very good friends?” I asked.

  “More like friendly rivals you might say. At one time I guess I was a little jealous of his abilities. I think he might have played pro ball if it weren’t for his accident. He had a lot of talent and he was willing to work hard. Can’t say I ever felt his kind of obsessive dedication. He always took things too seriously, no sense of humor. Too hard-nosed. Seemed almost pathological.”

  “He is a fanatic,” I agreed.

  “Don’t know how we ever became friends in the first place. All we shared was an interest in baseball.”

  “Couldn’t you still be friends?”

  He trained his eyes on the rug in my living room. “Got nothing in common anymore.”

  “You mean since the accident.”

  Greg nodded his head and I now understood why Michael felt such resentment toward Greg. If the situation had been reversed I doubted Michael would have dropped Greg as his friend. Then again Greg was right, all they ever shared was a love for playing sports.

  “Hey,” Greg said, “let’s not talk about Michael Norris anymore. Let’s talk about you and me.” He moved closer. “I do like you a lot. You’re smart and you have a good sense of humor. You’re fun to be with.” One of the nice things about Greg was the ease with which he bestowed compliments. He had a charming manner.

  He took me into his arms and kissed me. It was a firm juicy kiss planted with a perfect sense of direction, just the way Greg threw passes to his receivers.

  And I found myself backing away. “Greg, my mother’s in the kitchen!”

  “She won’t mind and neither would your dad.”

  I didn’t let him kiss me again because the truth was I hadn’t felt anything that first time. I know I should have been excited, thrilled, elated, but I wasn’t. And I didn’t understand why. All I knew was something wasn’t right. The chemistry between us was off. It totally confused me.

  ****

  I continued going to band practice as often as I could manage. Michael was doing amazing things with sound since he got the new synthesizer. His experiments were unique. Every time I listened I felt like a fly caught in a spider’s web. But the band took too much of my time. Sure there was a lull in cheerleading but even so I was very busy with too many activities, including the honor of being Junior Class Treasurer, a position I only won owing to my sudden popularity as a cheerleader.

  The band competition was a high point for all of us. We won locally; that is, we played against seven other bands from our region. I know it sounds immodest but none of them compared to us. Of course we had an advantage in that the competition was held at our school. Michael had been almost certain we would win on that level. Now he told us the hard part would begin. We would have to face a statewide competition.

  There was only one bad moment in the entire evening and it occurred as we were leaving the high school. Jimmy and Liz went ahead to load the equipment into the van. I followed with Michael. Just ahead of us were two boys, underclassmen. We couldn’t help overhearing them because they talked so loud.

  “I don’t think the group that won was so great,” said the first boy who had zits the size of watermelons.

  “Neither do I. Bet they only got the win because that kid was blind.” His friend, short and fat, mumbled as he munched on a chocolate bar.

  “Yeah,” agreed zit face, “what else is there for a blind guy to do but play music?”

  “He’s a waste of life,” the chubby kid added.

  Michael’s free hand became a clenched fist as the large biceps in his arm tensed. I held to him tightly. The two boys moved on.

  “Forget them. They’re a couple of immature wimps,” I said in a quiet voice.

  “They’re probably right,” he responded in a hoarse whisper.

  “No way!” I realized how committed to him I was. His pain was my pain. I also realized that caring so much about Michael was not a good thing for me. It could only lead to hurt.

  ****

  Michael kept us practicing just as before, in fact with an even greater intensity if that was possible. In the meantime Mr. Kemp was pleased with us and we continued playing at the club for Teen Night every Friday. One evening during sets he brought a man over to meet us. They were both puffing on cigars in a chummy manner. I tried to stand upwind, since the odor made me sick to my stomach. They were practically human ashtrays! It was illegal to smoke in the club but I wasn’t about to remind them of the fact.

  “Kids, I want you to meet Ed Ferris. Ed’s an agent. He’s very impressed with you.”

  Ferris took Michael’s pale, tapered hand in his own big, beefy one and shook it heartily. “Yeah, you kids have a lot of talent. Although you look a little too clean-cut for the pro scene, who knows, maybe people would welcome a change. And looks can always be changed. Anyway, that’s the last thing we got to worry about. We have people who can take care of it. See, I’m willing to sign you kids to a contract, be your personal manager, your mentor. How does that sound?”

  I exchanged looks with Liz and Jimmy but it was Michael who responded. “We have to think about it. We’re not ready to go professional, at least not yet.”

  Ed Ferris grinned at us. “Smart kid! You think I might be shifty, don’t you? Well, you could be right. Tell you what, if I can cut you a good deal, I’ll be back. Meantime don’t sign with anyone else!”

  “That’s an easy promise to make,” Michael assured him. “Like I said we’re not ready yet. We’re still in school.”

  “That’s not a problem either.”

  “We’ll see,” Michael said.

  Michael’s response gave me a sense of relief. I was afraid he’d jump at Ferris’s offer but Michael was more levelheaded than I’d thought. Still there was no doubt we were getting to think of ourselves as professionals. For one thing Michael now insisted all money we earned be divided equally between us.

  “Lively times ahead of us,” Michael said when the two men left us.

  “That’s for sure,” Jimmy agreed, making the thumbs-up sign. “I’m gonna tell my old man. Maybe now he’ll stop thinking of this as kid stuff.” He gave Liz a smacking kiss on the cheek.

  “Wouldn’t it be great if Mr. Ferris could get us a contract?” Liz said, glowing with excitement. She gave Jimmy a warm smile.

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Michael said. “First we have to create our own special sound.”

  “We’ll do it,” Jimmy said. “We’ll kick some ass.”

  “We’ll see. I wasn’t lying to Ferris when I said we weren’t ready yet. We’re not. We need more time.”

  “If you say so.” Jimmy remained unconvinced.

  “No matter,” Liz said, “isn’t it great? Come on let’s hug each other and say how great we are. Michael, you’re our leader you have to do it first.”

  “That’s dumb.”

  “No, it’s not!”

  He smiled at her insistence. “Okay, okay,” Michael said with a shrug. He hugged Liz and told her she was great. Then he shook Jimmy’s hand and told him the same thing.

  “What about Stacy?” Liz demanded.

  Michael’s face colored.

  “That’s all right,” I said.

  “No, it’s not,” Liz persisted.

  I started to back away, but Michael reached out and pulled me into his arms. He hugged me so tight I could barely breathe. I could almost hear his heart beating through his chest. Or was that my heart? I felt his warm breath on my cheek.

  “You’re great,” he said in a husky voice. “You’re the best.” Maybe I imagined it but the way he said it to me sounded very different from the way he’d spoken to Jimmy or even Liz. He wasn’t just indulging his sister’s whim.

  There was
a tingling down my spine as he held me, and when he finally let me go, I felt all strange inside like gelatin. Why couldn’t I feel that way when Greg held me? It would have made everything so much easier.

  ****

  In December, we started cheerleading for the Varsity Basketball games. I was still practicing for the band competition, trying to keep up with my extracurricular activities, study for my courses, and at the same time, have some semblance of a social life. I found myself increasingly nervous. I did try to study every free minute and I continued to cut down on the amount of sleep I was getting.

  I think I might have made it through this rough time okay if it hadn’t been for me getting sick again. At first I thought it was just a cold and I guess I didn’t bother taking care of it. I should have known it wasn’t an ordinary cold because it didn’t come with a normal sore throat.

  One day I started to cough and then the cough seemed to get worse. Then I got lightheaded and dizzy. I had a fever. My mother wanted me to stay home from school right away but I told her I couldn’t afford to miss classes. I took aspirin and figured the rotten thing would just run its course and go away. As things turned out, it didn’t happen quite that way.

  The third day I woke up wheezing. My temperature had spiked. My mother refused to let me go to school, which was just as well because I couldn’t have walked to the bus. I was too weak.

  Mom took me to our family doctor and he listened to my chest. The next thing I knew, I was scheduled for an x-ray. It turned out I had bacterial pneumonia. Lucky for me I responded to antibiotics. The doctor let me return to school after ten days. I was still feeling rotten, plus I was way behind in my work.

  I dragged through a couple of days at school taking a few makeup tests for which I was ill prepared. The whole thing came to a head when my physics teacher phoned my mother. He explained that I was in danger of failing the course for the marking period. I begged my mother not to tell Dad but she said we didn’t keep secrets from each other. She did say though that she wanted me to be the one to tell him.

  It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. He looked at me in the most disappointed way like I had let him down. I could have told him I was a druggie or a serial killer and he wouldn’t have taken it any worse.

  “It’s time I laid down the law around here,” he said, making like a third world dictator. “Young lady, I’ve been very lax with you. I’ve let you do whatever you wish and I can see now that was a mistake. It’s clear to me you don’t study.”

  “No, that’s not it. I do study. I just don’t have enough time. I’m so busy.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Well, we’ll have to make time won’t we?”

  I didn’t like the tone of his voice. He rarely spoke to me that way; in fact, the last time I can remember was when I was four years old and decided to draw a great painting on the living room wall with my crayons.

  “Don’t you have any idea how important it is to have good grades? You can’t get into a decent college without them!”

  “So you’ve told me. But look, Dad, maybe I don’t want to go to college after all.”

  He looked as if I’d stabbed him with a butcher knife. “What would you do instead?” His face had turned the color of the rare roast Mom was carving for dinner.

  “Well, I could be a musician. Our group is becoming very professional.”

  “I don’t believe it!” He shouted so loud Mom and I just stared at him. “It’s the influence of that sleazy blind boy isn’t it?”

  “He’s not sleazy, Dad! Michael is very special.” I surprised myself. I don’t think I ever argued with my father before, and certainly not when he was this mad.

  “I don’t want to do this since you seem to think so highly of the group but you’re going to have to quit.”

  “Quit the band?” I looked at him in horror and shock.

  “Something has to give. Everything else is important. I’m sorry, Stacy, but you must quit that band. You have no other options.”

  I turned to my mother for support, but she shook her head and refused to meet my eyes.

  My mother had dinner on the table by then but I was unable to eat. I excused myself and went to my room to lie down. Quit the band? Well that certainly was a solution, I supposed. Hadn’t I often told Michael he demanded too much of me? How many times had I been close to quitting on my own anyway? Besides, Michael didn’t need me. They would find some other musician, probably one with more talent. But how could I tell them?

  I wanted—needed—to talk it over with my mother or even Karen but I couldn’t. It was all locked up inside of me. I couldn’t explain how I felt to anyone else. I was so tired and troubled that night I fell asleep without ever leaving my room.

  During the night I woke up at the touch of a cool hand on my forehead. I didn’t have to open my eyes. It was my mother checking on me just as she had when I was a little child. I rolled over and went back to sleep. Later there were dreams, troubled ones.

  When I woke in the morning, I couldn’t remember what I dreamt. All I remembered was that Michael had been in them and there had been a sense of longing when I awoke.

  I skipped the next band practice, calling to tell Liz I was still feeling sick. I was behaving in a weak manner but I just couldn’t face them. Michael had only called once during the time I was ill and the conversation had been stilted. I found it impossible to tell what he was thinking or feeling. However, Liz phoned every day and even came to visit. Karen called a few times but never came by at all. In many ways Liz was a better friend than Karen. How would I ever tell her I had to leave the band? She would never understand. The thought was too painful. Yet I couldn’t go against my father. I also knew he was right, something had to give. But did it have to be the band?

  Chapter Eight

  I had Greg now. I could put any personal feelings for Michael behind me. Every girl at school envied me. I was better off the way things were. Any girl who didn’t have Silly Putty in place of brains could understand that. But some feelings just don’t die easily. I found that out the hard way when I least expected it.

  My first evening back at the club after being ill wasn’t an easy one. First, Mom didn’t want me to go; then Dad came home from work and heard about it. He was furious. I told him it was the last time I would perform with the band, but I needed more time to tell them. He was totally unsympathetic. Anyway, I explained to my parents that I was feeling a lot better. I don’t think they believed me. I’m not sure I believed it myself. I was still tired and not at full strength. But I was determined to perform. Mom pressed my cell phone into my hand in case I needed to call for an early ride home.

  Jimmy provided door-to-door limo service and I bundled up against the cold just like I promised Mom. I suppose I always wanted people to make a fuss over me but now that they were I was mortified.

  The minute we entered the club I forgot all about being sick. I felt elated and cheerful knowing I would perform again before an audience. I missed that while I was ill. Liz did most of the talking on our way to the club. Michael remained quiet and Jimmy concentrated on his driving.

  Mr. Kemp welcomed me back with open arms. “Glad to see you with the group, Stacy.” He chomped down on his cigar thankfully unlit. “Things weren’t the same without you.”

  “I appreciate you saying that, but no one’s indispensable. I’m sure I could be replaced easily.”

  He shook his head and his chins, both of them, moved side to side as if for extra emphasis. “No, it’s not the same without you. The sound is different, not as good. And Michael dragged his tail. They need you.”

  I knew he meant it as a compliment but it made me feel guilty. We gave a good performance, although I did get tired early in the evening. The initial rush of adrenaline didn’t last. Michael somehow sensed it because in the later sets he chose either instrumentals or he sang with Liz. So I didn’t have to work as hard as usual.

  It went well except for one thing: during our last set, the crowd’s noise le
vel was higher than usual. One guy in particular was making something of a commotion. He talked and laughed in a loud voice, bothering others who tried to ignore him. Usually, Mr. Kemp has someone around who keeps the peace, but his bouncer hadn’t come to work that evening. I have to say he was rarely needed but I kind of wished he’d been around this particular evening.

  When we ended our performance we immediately began dismantling our equipment. Jimmy and Liz carried our instruments out to the van. Michael and I finished what needed to be done on stage.

  I realized someone was near me and I looked up.

  “Hey, babe, how about you and me go out now?” It was the loudmouth from the audience.

  “Sorry I have to go home. My parents are waiting up.” Which, knowing my parents, was not a lie. He moved so close I could smell his breath. One whiff made me feel as if I had invaded a distillery and was drowning in a vat of beer. I knew full well that Mr. Kemp never allowed alcoholic beverages served on Teen Night. We wouldn’t have been able to perform at the club if he had. He could also have lost his liquor license. No, this guy came here in that condition. He looked no more than nineteen or twenty years old. He sported a narrow little mustache he obviously thought gave him a cool macho appearance. He had his flashy shirt open at the neck; I guess to show off his gold chains.

  I turned my back and tried to ignore him to carry on with my clean-up chores. But I gave the fellow some credit; he sure knew how to be persistent.

  “Hey, honey, let’s go out tonight. Don’t be so stuck-up! I’ll show you a real good time. I promise.” He laughed as if convinced he’d said something truly amusing.

  Michael stepped between us. “He bothering you?” His muscles tensed.

  “Not a problem I can’t handle. Don’t worry.”

  He nodded but didn’t look convinced. “Okay, your call. Let me know if you need me.”

  I appreciated him giving me space to handle this myself. I figured the guy was harmless.