Harmonic Feedback

by Tara Kelly

  “Well,” he sighed before continuing, “my boyfriend dumped me for my girlfriend. How messed up is that?”

  “Why were you dating two people at the same time? It seems kind of greedy.”

  The corner of his mouth curved up. Then I realized that he was probably joking. I hated it when people goofed around without smiling—it reminded me of the time most of my first-grade class convinced me that our teacher was secretly Barney the purple dinosaur.

  I wanted to ask him what his favorite band was or something quasi-normal, but the door swung open and Naomi breezed in.

  “Hey.” She knelt in front of me. “Why are your cheeks so red?”

  My mouth opened, but laughter was the only thing that came out. Naomi’s eyes traveled from my face to Justin’s, and whatever she saw caused her to smirk.

  She stood up and leaned toward my ear. “Cute,” she whispered and sat in the chair Roger previously occupied.

  “What can I say? She finds me hysterical,” Justin said, smiling at her. “I’m Justin, by the way. And I’m betting you’re Naomi.” He looked back at me. “I pay attention.”

  “Uh, yeah. Talking smack about me already, Drea?”

  “Well, Roger was here, and he thought Justin was my boyfriend because of what you said.”

  A high-pitched squeal came from her throat. “Oh my God, I totally forgot about that. I’m so sorry.” She leaned over, grinning at Justin. “Do you mind playing boyfriend until we come up with a better plan?”

  “Naomi!” I wanted to hit her.

  “Can you girls keep it down?” the receptionist asked, putting her hand over the mouthpiece.

  I nodded, and Naomi apologized to her. Justin bit his lip but couldn’t hold back a smile.

  “I wrote the lyrics to the second verse last night. Our song is going to rock so much,” Naomi said just before the class bell rang. “Meet me by the quad fountain after this class, ’kay?” She got up, tossing a thin backpack over her shoulder. “You should meet us there too, fake boyfriend.” Naomi waved at him before sprinting out of the office.

  “I might just have to take your friend up on that,” he said.

  “You really don’t need to pretend to be my boyfriend. That’s ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I meant meeting you guys after the first class. I was hoping to meet some musicians.” He brushed his fingertips against my forearm, causing every tiny blond hair to stand up. “But I don’t mind helping you get rid of stoner boy.”

  I yanked my arm away and buried it in my lap. “That won’t be necessary.”

  As if on cue, Roger stepped out of the vice principal’s office clutching a piece of paper. “He said you could go on in, Drea.”

  “Okay,” I said, scrambling out of the chair. Unfortunately, I’d managed to tangle the toe of my boot with the hem of my underskirt and hit the ground elbows first. Just perfect.

  Roger’s laughter made the pain radiating from my funny bone even worse. “Nice grannie panties,” he said just as someone tugged my skirts down.

  Justin knelt beside me, holding his hand out. “You okay?”

  I looked away, feeling the heat in my face give way to tears. This wasn’t how I wanted to start my first day here. I grabbed my lunch box and backpack off the floor and trudged into the office without looking back.

  “Big change from San Francisco, huh?” the vice principal asked as he scanned the papers in his file folder. When I nodded, he held his hand out to me with a grin that made his face even wider. “I’m Vice Principal Bailey.”

  I barely pinched his fingertips. “Nice to meet you.”

  “So, I’ve talked with your mom, and she had a couple of your doctors fax over some information about you.…” His thin lips were moving, but I blocked out his words. Words I’d heard a million times before—suggestions to see the school counselor, anything they can do to accommodate my special needs, what good grades and test scores I had, but… “You got a C-minus in English. Any reason why?”

  I shrugged. “Not my best subject.” I knew all the big vocabulary words—in fact I loved to read the dictionary and memorize words that sounded interesting. But I failed when it came to interpreting text that someone else wrote. Characters said one thing and did another, much like real life.

  Mr. Bailey jabbed the computer keyboard with one finger from each hand. He squinted at the screen, making a gurgling noise in his throat.

  “Are there any open music classes?”

  “Hmm.” He ran a chubby finger over his lower lip and shook his head. “Nope, those tend to fill up quickly. Do you like film?”

  “I like to watch movies.”

  He shrugged and glanced at me. “Well, it’s either sixth-period film or journalism. Take your pick.”

  “Film.”

  He clicked the mouse a few times, and the printer behind him started to groan. “Class started fifteen minutes ago, so I’ll write you a note. Sorry about the delay—first day back is always hectic.”

  “It’s fine,” I said, just wanting to get away from his stare. Doctors, school administrators, even my mom sometimes—they all looked at me like I was a fly under a microscope.

  “Drea,” he said, yanking the schedule from the printer, “I’m going to make an appointment for you with Jackie, one of our counselors. But don’t worry—all the kids love her. And I hear she gives out those mini Twix bars.”

  “I don’t like chocolate.”

  “I see.” He wrote “excused tardy” on my schedule. “She’ll send for you in the next couple of days and help you get acclimated, okay?”

  I nodded as he handed me a booklet and my schedule.

  “Here’s your student handbook. Make sure you go over that tonight, and let me know if you have any questions.”

  “Sure.”

  “Welcome to Samish High, Drea.” He thumbed through another file folder on his desk, his wide grin fading. “Send Justin Rocca in for me, will you, please? Thanks.”

  I mumbled “okay,” but he didn’t seem to hear me. He massaged his temples and furrowed his brow at whatever was in Justin’s file.

  The last thing I wanted to do was face Justin again, so I kept my eyes on the ground as I walked out. “You can go in,” I said, heading straight for the exit.

  “Hey, wait,” he called out before the door clicked shut behind me.

  My first class was U.S. History, and the teacher’s name was Mrs. Heinz—like the ketchup. She had blond hair, bright red lipstick, and an obsession with Abraham Lincoln. But that was all I remembered about her after the dismissal bell rang.

  I glanced at the map in the student booklet as I weaved between other students in the hallway. The school was shaped like a refrigerator turned on its side—three stories tall, and getting from one end to the other took a long time. The quad was between the main building and the gym, reminding me that I had PE after lunch. Just thinking about the shrill girly laughter in a damp locker room made me cringe.

  “Cool skirt,” a girl with black hair and facial piercings said as she passed me.

  “Um, thanks.” I didn’t turn around to see if she’d heard me. Sometimes the compliments were sincere, and sometimes they weren’t.

  I could see Naomi’s purple hair as I pushed open the double doors that led to the quad. She sat on a cement wall that encircled a rather wimpy-looking fountain; the little hump sounded like a leaky bathroom faucet.

  Naomi snatched my schedule out of my hand when I approached her. “Damn, we don’t have anything together.” She frowned, running her finger down the crinkled piece of paper. “Wait, we’ve got PE.”

  “Maybe PE will be more tolerable, then,” I said, looking around for Justin. “Why don’t you show me where my next class is?”

  Naomi narrowed her eyes at me. “Drea, it’s room 305. Top floor. Like it’s that hard to find.”

  “I don’t want that Justin guy to see us.” I lowered my voice. “You invited him, remember?”

  “Aw—he was a little preppy looking, b
ut he seemed really sweet.” She nudged me. “And cute.”

  I glanced back at the doors of the main building. A tall guy with dark hair and a white T-shirt put his hand over his eyes and looked in our direction. “Let’s get out of here.” I grabbed Naomi’s wrist and tried to pull her away from the fountain.

  “Don’t be so mean.” She twisted out of my grip and nodded in his direction. “He sees us.”

  “I’m leaving.” There was no way I could face him, not after what he saw and Roger’s comment.

  Naomi grabbed my shoulders and pulled me backward. “Whoa, girl. Tell me why you’re freaking out.”

  I tried to break free, but she held on tighter, laughing. “He saw my underwear—”

  “He what?” She punched my shoulder, her mouth hanging open. “You ho!” Her laughter sounded like it was going through a hundred-watt amplifier.

  “No, not like—shut up, okay?” I glanced at the students around me. “He’ll hear you.”

  “Relax, he’s too busy talking to Kari McBitch.” She nodded behind me with a sneer.

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw Justin talking to one of those common-denominator girls. Blond highlights were mixed in with her brown hair, and she was dressed like a mannequin at the mall. “She’s got really big boobs,” I said before I could stop myself.

  “Yeah, it’s kind of funny how much they grew over the summer.” There was an odd edge to Naomi’s voice—one I’d never heard before. “So tell me, what happened with you and the new guy?” She poked me, all smiles.

  I looked over my shoulder again. Justin was pointing at us. Not good. “Nothing. I fell, and my skirt flew up.”

  She crinkled her brow at me. “So?”

  “Well, Roger was—”

  “Don’t tell me she’s coming over here,” Naomi said through her teeth, peering over my shoulder.

  When I turned around, Justin was approaching us with that Kari girl in tow. He was smiling, but she definitely wasn’t.

  “Hey, Justin,” Naomi said. “I was just about to split. But maybe I’ll see you later.” Naomi walked right into Kari, bumping her arm.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Keep walking,” Kari said.

  “See you at lunch, Drea!” Naomi called over her shoulder.

  Justin raised his eyebrows at me, and I shrugged. Naomi really sucked for leaving me alone with him.

  “Hi, I’m Kari.” Her dark eyes scanned my body until they reached my feet. “You’ve got dirt on the bottom of your skirt.”

  “Oh.” Part of the hem was caught under my boot.

  She smiled, flashing her white teeth. “It’s Drea, right?”

  “Yeah.” That’s me. Drea with the grannie panties. I bet Justin didn’t waste any time telling her either.

  “What classes did you get?” Justin asked, moving closer to me. His warm breath hit my cheek as he peered down at my schedule. “We’ve got the next one together. And I’m in the film class too.”

  “Cool,” Kari said. “Guess we’re all going to the same place, then.”

  I did my best to imitate a polite smile and walked ahead of them, hoping Kari would keep Justin occupied.

  “What instrument do you play?” he asked, appearing alongside me.

  I tried to walk faster, but he had much longer legs than I did. “Guitar mostly. But I’m more into production and sound design.”

  He held the door to the main building open for Kari and me. “What do you use—Pro Tools, Logic?”

  “Logic,” I said, surprised that he’d heard of either recording program. A lot of people assumed I used GarageBand—which was fine for beginners. But I was beyond the days of putting a bunch of premade loops together and calling myself a musician.

  “You must do electronic music mostly, huh?”

  “Yeah. Do you produce?” I asked.

  “Nah. I laid down some piano tracks for a producer friend of mine in Chicago.”

  “You play the piano?” Kari asked, moving to the other side of Justin.

  He shrugged. “Yeah—started with ‘Jingle Bells’ when I was two and haven’t stopped since.”

  “That’s so cute!” she said.

  I let them go ahead of me on the stairs. “Why is it cute?”

  Kari glanced over her shoulder and wrinkled her nose at me. “It just is.” She moved closer to Justin, nudging his ribs. “You should play for me sometime.”

  He mumbled something I couldn’t hear as we reached the classroom. I nudged past them and scanned the class for an empty seat. Back row, corner desk. Perfect.

  As I slid into the desk, I watched Kari pull Justin to a couple of desks on the other side of the room. He whispered something to her and she shrugged, flashing him a quick smile. My stomach did flip-flops as they headed for the two empty desks in front of me. I’d never had a guy take this much interest in me before. Part of me wondered if I was the butt of another joke.

  “You’re a tough girl to keep up with.” Justin slid into the seat in front of me. “How am I supposed to keep Roger away?”

  “I don’t see him here, do you?”

  He glanced around the classroom and shrugged. “Guess not.” He kept his eyes on mine as if he was waiting for something.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He turned around and started talking to Kari, who was eagerly awaiting his attention.

  A man with a red ’fro and a Hawaiian shirt walked into the classroom and tossed a black bag on the desk. “Hey, guys!” he called out just as the bell rang. “Welcome to English Eleven! I’m Mr. Duncan—some of you had me for English Nine.” Apparently Bozo was our teacher.

  I looked out the window and zeroed in on a couple leaning against an evergreen tree. It took a few seconds to realize that it was Naomi and Roger, puffing on cigarettes. I wondered if they knew that people could see them from these windows, or if they even cared.

  “So what I usually like to do the first day is get to know everyone. I remember faces, but I’m not so good with names.” Mr. Duncan chuckled. “I want you all to find a partner to interview. I’ve got the questions right here.” He wrestled a stack of papers out of his book bag.

  Great. Two of my favorite things—partnering up with a stranger and speaking in front of a class. I’d only passed speech class because the teacher felt sorry for me.

  Kari spun around and grabbed Justin’s wrist. “Will you be my partner again?”

  “Okay, but don’t spill any iodine on me this time,” he said.

  I glanced at the guy next to me, but he was already whispering to the girl in front of him. In fact, it seemed everyone but me had a partner. This meant the teacher would pair up with me, or he’d force me into a three-way. Either way, I’d end up the focal point of the class—the one nobody wanted to partner with.

  Mr. Duncan handed some papers to the first person in our row. “When you guys are done, I want you to introduce your partner to the class. Clear enough?”

  I kept hoping that one teacher out of the bunch would come up with a first-day activity I hadn’t done a zillion times before. Or at least one that had some purpose.

  Justin turned around and handed me the last questionnaire, a smile flickering at his lips. “You need a partner, don’t you?”

  I shrugged, not really knowing how to respond.

  “Scoot your chair up,” he said. “The more the merrier.”

  “Okay.”

  “She doesn’t have a partner,” Justin said to Kari as I moved my desk next to his.

  “Aw, sure—yeah, join us,” she said in a high voice. Too high. It sounded fake, even to me.

  I had to look twice at the questions on the paper. They definitely weren’t the normal set, like what’s your name, favorite subject, etc. This one wanted to know our favorite vacation, the best book we’d ever read, what we wanted to be when we grew up, and the first thing we did this morning.

  “These are really random,” Justin said.

  “Yeah, I had Duncan my freshman year,” Kari said. “He’s a nut
job, but he’s entertaining.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger, biting her lower lip. “We’ll just go around in a circle. I’ll ask you.” She nodded at Justin. “You can ask Drea and whatever.”

  “That works,” I said, glancing at the clock and counting the minutes left. Thirty-six.

  “Okay.” She poked Justin. “Tell me all about your favorite vacation.”

  Justin rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “You’ll have to give me a minute to think about that.”

  “Sure.” Kari smiled at him. Her eyelashes looked like they belonged in a mascara commercial; every lash was perfectly separated and curled. I’d tried to use my mom’s eyelash curler once, but it ended up being more of an eyelash eradicator.

  “Do I have something on my face?” she asked me.

  “No. I like your makeup.”

  The corner of her glossy mouth perked up. “Uh—thanks.” She glanced at Justin, but he was doodling on his questionnaire. “Got an answer yet?”

  He dropped his pen and folded his arms across his chest. “I guess it would be the summers I stayed in Milan with my grandma. She lived right by this gelato place, and they had a coconut and mango combo that rocked.”

  “I like coconut,” I said.

  “Hold up. You spent summers in Milan and all you can say is you liked the ice cream?” Kari asked.

  “It ruined me on pizza in the States too. Can’t eat it unless I use my grandma’s recipe.”

  Kari wrinkled her nose at him. “Come on, you gotta give me more than that. Did your parents just, like, put you on a plane every summer?”

  “Well, my dad worked for a company based out of Munich, so sometimes he took me with him. And Milan was only about a five-hour drive. Staying with my grandma was more fun than a hotel, you know?”

  “Not really. My parents don’t exactly frequent Europe much.” Kari rolled her eyes. “We might see my aunt in Vancouver if they’re feeling daring.”

  Justin looked down, drumming his hands on his desk.

  “Do you speak Italian?” I asked.

  Both their heads jerked up like they’d suddenly remembered I was sitting with them. Kari’s eyes darted from me to Justin.

  “Sì.” He smiled at me. “I’m a lot better at understanding it than speaking it, though.”