Sleepovers, Solos, and Sheet Music

by Michelle Schusterman

  “You all need to wake up,” she said sternly. “I’m not going to the zoo with a bunch of grumpy people who haven’t had a real breakfast. And by breakfast, I mean sugar rush. So here’s the deal—you’ve got until the elevator gets to our floor to eat everything in your hands. Ready? Go.”

  Without waiting for a response, Gabby pressed the button, then tilted her head back and poured what was left in the bag into her mouth. Victoria immediately crammed her entire handful into her mouth, too, making her cheeks bulge like a chipmunk. Natasha and I cracked up.

  “Mmmshhph!” Gabby pointed frantically at the buttons as we moved from the fourth floor to the fifth. I stuffed my M&M’s into my mouth and turned away from Natasha—if we made eye contact, I’d start laughing again and probably choke.

  When the elevator reached the twelfth floor, we were all still chewing except for Gabby.

  “Amateurs.” She grinned at us before dragging her suitcase down the hall. Victoria tapped my shoulder when we stopped in front of our room.

  “Do I have something in my teeth?” Her mouth stretched into an enormous, chocolaty smile, and Gabby and I snickered.

  “Ew!” Natasha cried. Two M&M’s fell out of her mouth, which only made us laugh harder.

  Gabby unlocked the door, and Natasha made a beeline for the bathroom. Victoria and I collapsed onto the beds, while Gabby went straight to the door connected to the room next to us. She knocked loudly, yelling, “Hey, neighbors!”

  “Gabby!” I sat up, still giggling. “They might be total strangers!”

  “Nah, it’s—”

  The door flew open, cutting Gabby off.

  “I need food,” Leah announced, stepping inside our room. Gabby opened her backpack and pulled out another enormous bag of M&M’s.

  “Here you go. Mrs. Park told me we were next to Leah’s room,” she added, glancing at me.

  “Cool!” I smiled, trying to look unconcerned about the fact that Julia was right next door, possibly even gossiping to Sophie about what horrible friends Natasha and I were at this very moment. Despite the fact that we’d tried to talk to her to clear the whole thing up not once, but twice.

  Maybe I was sick of worrying about it, or maybe it was the sugar rush kicking in. Either way, I was suddenly determined to have fun on this trip. With or without Julia.

  Hopping off the bus at the zoo, I squinted at the overcast sky and zipped my hoodie. The air was chillier than yesterday, but still humid—I didn’t need a mirror to know my hair was already frizzing up. I pulled a rubber band out of my pocket to tie it back, waiting for Owen.

  “Your bag looks a lot lighter,” I said when he came down the steps. Owen glanced at his backpack.

  “Yeah, but our seats are kind of a mess,” he said apologetically. “I ended up just dumping everything out except for my sketchbook and pencils.”

  I shrugged, glancing at the bus windows. “No big deal. We’ll clean it up when we get back.”

  His eyes widened. “Did you just say no big deal?”

  “Yeah. What?” I added, because he was still staring.

  “Holly, you spent two hours alphabetizing my DVDs last semester,” Owen said. “And every time you stay over for dinner, my mom jokes about hiring you to do the dishes because they end up cleaner than when she runs them through the dishwasher.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is that our seats are covered in DVDs and snacks.” He paused. “The box of crackers might have spilled a little, too. And you’re not freaking out?”

  Normally, the thought of cracker crumbs all over my chair would have made me cringe. But I’d just spotted Julia through the bus window, getting close to the front.

  “So the crackers spilled,” I said, grabbing Owen’s hand and pulling him away from the bus. “No big deal, like I said. Come on!”

  We hurried to the zoo entrance, where Mrs. Park was handing out tickets. “First ones here!” she said with a smile, checking us off her list. Inside, we passed a few short buildings and a fountain. After a good two minutes of walking, I suddenly realized I’d never let go of Owen’s hand.

  Okay. This was . . . interesting.

  I didn’t want to just drop it out of nowhere. That would be rude, right? But it was one of those things that once you noticed it, you couldn’t not notice it. Like a giant spotlight was shining on our hands or something. It made me feel really self-conscious, but at the same time, I didn’t necessarily want to let go. It was a confusing feeling.

  I wondered if Owen had blinked his eyelids off yet. It’s what he always did when he was confused. Between this and the accidental cuddling on the bus, he’d probably set a blinking record by now.

  Taking care to be as subtle as possible, I glanced at him. He looked . . . normal. No blushing, no blinking.

  “The primate exhibit’s over there,” I said, pointing at the sign. “Want to check that out first?”

  “Sure!” He sounded normal, too.

  Huh. Maybe I was freaking out over nothing. Maybe holding hands really wasn’t a big deal. (Unlike the spilled crackers on my seat, which made me twitch every time I pictured it.)

  We walked to the railing and peered down. I spotted two gorillas right away, both sitting on the giant rocks in the middle of the grounds.

  “Whoa,” I said. “You’ve got to draw them.”

  “Definitely,” Owen agreed. We let go of each other’s hands at the same time, and he pulled his sketchbook and pencils out of his backpack. I felt relieved. Okay, 90 percent relieved and 10 percent disappointed.

  “Hey, guys.” Gabby appeared behind us, holding an enormous funnel cake.

  “Hey!” I glanced around. Victoria and Leah were coming around the corner, but I didn’t see anyone else from Millican. “Where is everybody, anyway?”

  “Mostly in the food court,” she replied. “Victoria said something about going to see the sea lions first. Wanna come?”

  “Maybe when Owen finishes.” I pointed at his sketchbook, and Gabby leaned over to look.

  “Wow.” She shook her head. “Geez, Owen. That’s amazing.”

  He smiled, face flushed, pencil still flying. “Thanks.”

  After Gabby followed Victoria and Leah down the path to the sea lion exhibit, I watched Owen draw. My eyes flickered back and forth between the sketch-gorillas and the real ones. Yeah, he was definitely getting better. He’d even captured their facial expressions. It sounded kind of silly, but it was like you could see their personalities somehow.

  When he finished with the gorillas, we headed to the sea lions. I spotted Max and Trevor, but Gabby and the others were gone. Owen and I ended up wandering around kind of aimlessly, talking about our Alien Park science fair project. Being at the zoo was giving us all sorts of new ideas—by the time we got to the swamp, we had a list of ten alien exhibits.

  A crowd had gathered on the boardwalk. Owen and I joined them, standing on our toes and peering around heads. The swamp had a funny smell, like shrimp and dirty socks.

  “Can you see?” I asked him.

  “No . . . oh, I think they’re feeding the alligators!”

  We managed to squeeze through to the front just in time. A zookeeper stood at the edge of the grass, holding a long pole out over the greenish water. Something pink was stuck on the end of the pole.

  “A raw chicken,” I said. “Awesome.”

  Owen laughed. When the first alligator swam up to the bank, several people shrieked. The zookeeper kept a safe distance, waving the chicken over its head. The alligator froze, eyeing the pole, then—snap!—it snatched the chicken in its jaws. For a few seconds the alligator and the zookeeper wrestled with the pole, like the world’s most dangerous game of tug-of-war. Then the alligator disappeared back under the murk, leaving the zookeeper with a chicken-free pole.

  I looked at Owen. “So . . . we should
have an alien feeding exhibit, right?”

  “Yes.” He added it to the list.

  We left the boardwalk and headed into a small, dark building. Two older girls left through the exit on the other side, leaving us alone. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust after the door closed. Tanks of all sizes lined one wall, all filled with snakes and lizards. The other side was a glass wall—behind that there was an elevated habitat with a lot of rocks, a small cave, and a pond that ended at the glass, so you could see under the surface of the water.

  “Whoa!” I exclaimed, stepping up to the glass. Three white alligators lay perfectly still on the rocks. I thought they were fake at first—marble or something. But then one scrambled away from the others, slipping into the pond. The way it glided through the water was so graceful.

  “Ghosts.” Mesmerized, I watched it paddle right past us. “They’re like ghost alligators.”

  Owen looked at me for a second. Then he turned and sat on the floor against the wall with all the snakes, right across from the habitat. Pulling out his sketchbook, he began scribbling furiously. I was still gazing at the alligators a few minutes later when my cell phone beeped with a text. Natasha.

  Where are you?

  Reptile house, I texted back, then joined Owen on the floor. He paused when I leaned over to look, his hand still covering the right side of the sketch.

  My mouth fell open. It was the habitat—the rocks, the cave, the pond. But instead of three alligators, there were seven or eight. And instead of swimming, they were flying. Soaring in the air, plunging into the water . . . two looked like they were doing flips.

  Something else was different, too. I leaned closer, squinting in the dim light. The alligators’ edges were blurred, like Owen had smudged them on purpose. One floated on its side past a large rock, belly facing out, and I could see the rock through it. Somehow, he’d drawn the alligators to look transparent.

  “Ghost alligators,” Owen explained. He sounded uncertain, I guess because I hadn’t said anything. “Do you like it?”

  Finally, I tore my eyes off the picture and looked at him. “That is . . .” I paused, because awesome or amazing didn’t seem like big enough compliments. “It’s my favorite,” I said at last. “Of all your drawings. Ever.”

  Owen smiled. “Thanks, Holly.”

  Suddenly, I was very aware of how close we were sitting. Pretty much shoulder-to-shoulder. Which was my fault—I’d leaned in too close to look at the drawing. He didn’t seem to mind, though.

  We both glanced up when the door opened. I shaded my eyes from the daylight streaming inside.

  “Holly?” Natasha called. “Are you in here?”

  “Over here!” I shifted away from Owen a little bit.

  The door closed, and Natasha shuffled toward us. “What are you guys do—” she started. Then she noticed the white alligator gliding past the glass and let out a little shriek. “That thing is creepy!”

  I grinned. “You think everything’s creepy.”

  Rolling her eyes, Natasha sunk down to the floor next to me. “Alligators are creepy. Did you see that crazy guy feeding them chickens? They could bite his arm off!”

  Laughing, Owen returned to his sketch. I glanced at the door before turning to Natasha. “So why are you wandering around by yourself?”

  She shrugged. “Aaron and some of the others are still out there watching them feed the alligators, but . . . you know. Ew.”

  I watched Natasha fiddle with her shoelaces. Her expression was kind of funny, like she wanted to say something, but didn’t want to at the same time. And just when I opened my mouth to ask her what was wrong, she blurted it out.

  “I think I’m going to break up with him.”

  She kept her eyes on her laces. On my other side, for just a second or so, Owen’s pencil went completely still. I guess Natasha noticed, too, because she laughed a little.

  “Sorry, Owen. You probably don’t want to hear about this.”

  I glanced at him and caught a few blinks. “It’s okay,” he said without looking up.

  “You won’t tell anyone, right?” she added.

  “No!”

  “Thanks.” Natasha waited a moment, then nudged my arm. “Well? No comment?”

  I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Um . . . what happened? Did you have a fight or something?”

  “No, nothing like that! It’s just . . .” She stopped, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t know. He’s really nice, and the first few times we went out, it was a lot of fun. But we just don’t have a lot in common, you know? Like at lunch—I never know what to say when I’m around his friends. Honestly, most of the time I just wish I was sitting with you guys instead. Or like that one time I told you about, when I ended up talking to his mom in the kitchen because him and his friends were all watching one of your creepy movies,” she added with a teasing grin. “Why do you keep lending him those, anyway?”

  She didn’t look upset at all, but I felt horrible. “I’m really sorry,” I started, but she cut me off.

  “I’m just joking, Holly!”

  “Really?” I asked. I couldn’t stop picturing her face in the gym last night when I was talking about the zombie farmers.

  But Natasha was giggling. “Of course, really. You both like the same gross movies, that doesn’t bother me.” She sighed. “The movies are just one example, anyway. To be honest, I bet he’s probably thinking about breaking up with me, too. We’re just running out of things to talk about.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. “I’m really sorry. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Natasha made a face. “Well, I’m okay with everything except the actual conversation. I mean, what should I say?”

  I tried to think of something helpful, then sighed. “I have no idea. I guess . . . I guess you should just tell him what you told me. You like him, but you don’t have much in common, and you still want to be friends.”

  Natasha made a noise that was half-laugh, half-groan. “It sounds so easy when you put it that way, but when I think about actually saying it to his face . . . ugh.”

  “Sorry,” I said again. “But hey—if you tell him while he’s still watching the alligator feeding and one does bite that guy’s arm off, maybe your breaking up with him won’t seem so bad in comparison.”

  Natasha tried to look disgusted, but ended up laughing instead. “You’re so weird, Holly.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled at her. “Hey, did you eat lunch yet?”

  “Nope, unless you count the M&M’s.”

  I looked at Owen, whose pencil was still flying away. “Want to go get some food?”

  “Sure.” He flipped the sketchbook closed.

  “Did you finish it?” I asked him as we stood up. “The ghost alligators?”

  “Not yet,” Owen replied, zipping his backpack. His voice sounded funny, kind of like he was nervous or something. “I’ll work on it more later.”

  “Oh my God, they do look like ghost alligators,” Natasha said. “I’m so going to have nightmares about those things.” Covering her eyes with her hands, she started walking blindly to the door.

  “Don’t look to your left,” I called after her. “That rattlesnake’s cage doesn’t look too sturdy.”

  “Shut up!” Natasha yelled. I laughed, and Owen did, too. We followed Natasha out of the reptile house, squinting in the bright light.

  “So can I see the ghost alligator drawing when it’s finished?” I asked, glancing at Owen.

  “Um . . . yeah.” He gave me a quick smile. “Sure.”

  “Thanks.”

  All of Natasha’s break-up talk must have weirded him out, I realized. My good mood was fading, too, although that could’ve been because my sugar rush was finally wearing off. It got worse when we passed Julia, sitting alone on a bench and texting. She didn’t even look up.

 
So far, this trip was not going the way I’d expected. Julia would rather talk on the phone with Seth than hang out with us. Natasha and Aaron were breaking up. And Owen and I had walked around holding hands like it wasn’t a big deal.

  Band trips, I decided, did weird things to relationships.

  When we got back to the hotel from the zoo, Mr. Dante gave us an hour to get ready for dinner. An hour. As if that could possibly be enough time for four girls sharing one bathroom.

  We barely made it downstairs on time. And while Mrs. Park did a head count in the lobby, Trevor and a few other kids realized they’d left their instruments upstairs, even though Mr. Dante had reminded us at least a dozen times that we had rehearsal after dinner. So by the time the bus pulled out of the parking lot, we were way behind schedule.

  Max and Victoria found a big, round table in the back of the restaurant. After going through the buffet line, Owen, Trevor, and I joined them. We’d been playing Warlock for a few minutes, sliding cards in between baskets of fried shrimp and hush puppies, when Natasha sat down next to me.

  I glanced up in surprise. “Hey!”

  “Hi.” She grinned when she saw the cards. “You guys are obsessed.”

  “Want to play?” Max offered her a stack, but Natasha shook her head.

  “Not right now, thanks.”

  I waited until no one was paying attention before leaning closer to her. “Did you do it?”

  “No, not yet.” Natasha sighed, picking at her fries. “Too many people around, you know? I don’t want to tell him in front of Liam—or anyone, for that matter.”

  “Yeah.” I tossed a shield-spell card onto the stack in the middle of the table. “It’s not like there’s a lot of privacy on the bus. Maybe you should wait until after the trip.”

  She made a face. “Maybe . . . but now that I know I’m going to do it, I just want to get it over with.”

  I nodded. “Rip off the Band-Aid.”

  “Exactly.”

  But Natasha was right about the lack of privacy. After dinner, we boarded the bus again and headed straight to the college campus hosting the contest. Rehearsal got off to a shaky start—after all, we hadn’t practiced since Monday. And between sleeping on the gym floor last night and a whole day out at the zoo, everyone was starting to look kind of wrecked. Even the big box of Red Hots Gabby had shared after dinner wasn’t working.