In the Band

by Jean Haus

  In the Band

  Copyright © 2012 by Jean Haus

  All right reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Chapter 1

  My finger hovers over the mouse button that will change my life forever. I take a deep breath and will myself to move, but I hover. Come on. One click and the end will be official. I close my eyes and lower my finger. Somehow, I press the button. Whoosh. My future down the toilet with one email. I lay my forehead on the computer desk and resist the urge to bang my head against the wood.

  The smack of my bedroom door opening brings me back up against the chair.

  “Hey Riley,” Jamie, my little sister, says. She’s wearing a baseball cap backwards, a yellow polka-dot bathing suit, and boots. Seeing her eight-year-old sense of fashion helps lessen the sting of the email. Just a little. She bounces into my room. “Chloe’s coming over, right?”

  Keeping my face neutral, I nod.

  She flips a lid back and forth of an open box between us. Packed boxes that never went anywhere. “So can I invite Mandy over to swim?”

  Still unable to speak I nod again. I’m rewarded with a bright smile. “Cool.”

  As she bounces away, a human pogo stick, I will myself not to cry, not to remember hours and hours of drum practice. Not to think of the glorious freedom I just gave up. But I’m giving it up for a good cause. Two good causes actually. And I’ll still go to college. Still have a future. Just not the one I’d planned on.

  With a sigh, I log into the local university and pay for classes—awful choices left in August—with the bankcard connected to my college fund. I didn’t want to pay for my eleven credits of Philosophy 101, Ancient Roman History, or Calculus III until it was official.

  And now it’s undeniably official.

  The twist in my future completed I sit staring at the screen saver of my one and only boyfriend I’d lost to college in another state two weeks ago. Dressed in our band uniforms we stand with heads together, sunglasses on, and drums in front of us. We look happy together. Last year. Though I knew the break up was coming, I’m still hurt and wishing I could call him. It doesn’t seem like anyone stays together anymore. I really need to change my screen saver, but my hands stay in my lap.

  “Hey girl, you coming down?” Chloe yells from the bottom of the stairs.

  Melancholy interrupted I shut the lid to my computer and yell back, “Just a second.”

  I find Chloe already on the deck overlooking the above ground pool. Wearing a halter top, a wide brimmed hat, and cat like sun glasses, she looks like she belongs in a forties movie. Instead, she sits in the shade of our table umbrella with its dangling Mickey Mouse lights. Her platinum blond hair and curves only add to the movie star look. With my long dark hair, big brown eyes, and stick body, I look like I belong with the lights. Physically, I can’t seem to get past the stage of thirteen. Emotionally, I feel like a thirty-year -old lately.

  Splashes and giggles sound from the water beyond the deck while the smell of chlorine hangs in the air.

  Chloe nods toward the pool. “I told them I’d watch until you came down.” She lifts a plastic cup with a straw. “Mocha Frappuccino? Slushy caffeine and chocolate got to help a little.”

  “I’m alright,” I say, grabbing the cup and sitting in the chair closest to the pool under the umbrella with her. Though I haven’t come to terms with what went down today, I don’t want to worry my friends. It’s just something I have to let slowly settle inside. It’s been settling for a while though. However, I’m not one to dwell. Rather move on and do what has to be done.

  “Yeah right. Redonkulous.” Chloe takes a drink of her coffee. How she can drink hot liquid on a hot August afternoon is beyond me. “Every drummer is okay when they give up a percussion scholarship.”

  I glance at my sister and her friend bouncing in the water. “Keep it down. I don’t want Jamie thinking I’m upset.”

  “Like they can hear us.” She waves a hand toward the giggling and shouting. “And to think you probably would have made their drumline. How many times have you watched that lame movie?”

  Recalling the hours Marcus and I sat playing to the movie, I snap, “Are you trying to make me feel like shit?”

  She rears back in her chair. It was almost a head snap. I sense more than see her blinking behind the dark glasses. “No. I’m trying to get the mourning over with.”

  I lean back and take a long drag of caffeinated slush while the giggles in the pool turn into squeals. The cup rolls in my hands like I usually do with my sticks. “No need. I’ve been thinking about this since May.”

  She jerks her glasses off and smacks them on the table. Green eyes heavy with mascara narrow on me. “Riley Jones Middleton, you’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

  “I wanted to figure it out on my own,” I say with a shrug.

  Her fingers drum on the glass. Each ping indicates her annoyance. “Same reasons?”

  I glance at my sister twirling in a floaty ring while waves of water encircle her. Jamie with a sitter almost every day until nine o’clock at night was the biggest reason. There were others though. My mother already on the brink of financial ruin. My father not being able to help as much with dorm fees. My mother’s growing depression. All of these stem from one thing. “Yeah, the divorce.”

  “Divorce sucks.” Chloe takes a long drink of coffee and slides her glasses back on. “What are you going do if that university band lady emails back?”

  “Tell her I’m sorry. What else can I do?”

  “Suppose that’s true. But it was kind of rude to email her two days before you were supposed to show up.”

  I shrug again. “It was. I just couldn’t force myself to do it until today.”

  The creak of the gate behind me sounds and then a bam as it hits the wooden fence. Chloe’s lip curl confirms my suspicion. I don’t have to look over my shoulder. “Thought you weren’t going to talk to me?”

  “That would be too awesome,” Chloe says under her breath.

  “So you did it?” Marcus, my other best friend, asks from the bottom of the deck steps.

  “Yeah, but you could have just texted.”

  Instead of replying, he races up the stairs and envelopes me in a hug. “Aw Riley, I’m pissed you had to do it but I understand.”

  With the Frappuccino smashed between us, I say, “You didn’t have to skip practice to offer your condolences.”

  “Sure I did.” He pulls away and flops down on the nearest chair. “But we were near perfect this morning. Got the afternoon off.” He sweeps his unruly blonde mop of curls from his eyes.

  My brows rise. “Really, what kind of band leader do you have?”

  “College band is different than high school. People actually practice.” He glances at Chloe and only offers her a nod. “And I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Chloe lifts her coffee as if toasting to him. “You got named tool of the month?”

  I give her a look. I’m not in the mood to listen to her and Marcus trade barbs.

  “Tool of the year actually,” he says snidely and digs in his pocket. “I noticed this on the message board in my dorm the other day.” He unfolds the paper and flattens it on the glass table.

  My brows rise. “I’m not moving into the dorm.”

  “Yeah,” Chloe says. “What kind of dork lives in a dorm thirty minutes from their house?”

  “What kind of bimbo goes to cosmetology school?” he says with raised brows then adds, “Oh, ones named Chloe.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I’ll re
member that next time you want a haircut.”

  “Like you can remember that long.”

  That actually causes a chuckle to escape me. Not because Chloe’s an airhead but because of Marcus’s overly long hair. Feeling a glare from across the table, I gesture to the paper. “What’s so important you came all the way from the dorm?”

  “Well…there’s this band and they need a drummer.”

  My drink almost slips from my hand. “You’re going to join a band? Like a rock band?”

  “From this,” he points to the paper, “they play a variety of stuff, not just rock. But no, I don’t have time for a band. I wish.” He leans forward, his eyes intense. “But you could.”

  The splashing and shouting from the pool grows louder in the sudden silence. Stunned at the idea, I simply stare at Marcus.

  Chloe breaks the silence with a snort. “That’s a wicked idea.”

  I don’t break my stare. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He shakes his head. “Why would I be kidding? You’re the best drummer I know.”

  My face twists into an incredulous expression. “In a marching band.”

  “I’m not kidding,” Chloe says excitedly. She slaps Marcus’s shoulder. “I’ve got to give it to you tool of the year. Your idea is the cat’s ass.”

  Marcus gives her a grin then looks back to me. “Come on, Riley. You’ve been playing my drum set as long as me.”

  The frightening mental image of me on stage in front of rowdy fans has me snapping, “Goofing around.”

  “Your goofing around is ten times better than my totally serious,” he says with a grunt. “And you don’t goof around. Shit. After about two rounds of a song, you play it better than my four hours of practicing it. You’d be perfect for this.”

  They both stare at me with anticipation lined on their faces. I slowly set my drink on the glass table. “If I don’t have time to be in the university band, what makes you think I have time to be in a stage band?” Marcus had begged me to let him talk to his bandleader when he found out I wasn’t going to Virginia, but watching Jamie almost every day wouldn’t allow me the time.

  “That’s the beauty of it.” Marcus taps the paper. “They only practice twice a week and do about two gigs a month. They’re all in school just like us.”

  “He’s right. It’s perfect,” Chloe says. “You’ll still get to play, not much time away from your mommy duties, and it actually might be cool. Hot guys could even be involved.”

  Marcus scowls at her before they both return their gazes to me.

  I push my chair away from the table and wrap my arms around my knees. “You two have fallen off the deep end. I do not belong in a band. I don’t even look like I’m out of high school.”

  “Four hours.” Chloe’s red nails shine as she spreads four fingers out. “Okay, maybe five hours,” she adds her thumb, “some dye, some makeup, and some clothes, and I’ll have you looking like a rock star.”

  Chloe, me, and all of those things together in a room for five hours has me shaking my head. And me in a band? Um no, just thinking about it freaks me out.

  Marcus leans forward, scrunching his got milk? T-shirt and rests his elbows on his knees. “Listen, they’re playing tonight. We could check them out. If you like their style, tryouts are next week. You can think it over and have some time to practice.”

  A light shines out of their tunnel of craziness. “Can’t tonight. My mom has a late night at work. Inventory.”

  “Weak try,” Chloe says. “I can watch Jamie. I could watch her during your practice sessions too.”

  My eyes narrow on her as I resist throwing the rest of my slushy all over her perfectly primped form. She’s trying to help. Wants to help after I was there for her during her breakup with Neil—the boy who was supposedly the one—but this is going beyond help.

  “Come on,” Marcus says in a pleading tone. “You need to get out. You’re like a cat lady without cats lately. This will be fun.”

  I look between them as they both shake their heads yes. I’d like to smack those heads together. Tightening my arms around my knees, I watch the girls kick a raft across the length of the pool before returning to the waiting stares of my friends. Peer pressure is a bitch. “If I go and I don’t like the band, you’ll both let this go?”

  “Scouts honor,” Chloe says and salutes me with a hand across her chest.

  Irritation wrinkles Marcus’s brow. “Scouts don’t salute like that.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Marcus?” I press.

  “Yeah sure.” He shrugs. “If you don’t like the band, then I’ll drop it. But I can’t see you happy unless you’re playing.”

  Relieved they’ve both given me their word because regardless of my true feelings, I won’t be liking the band. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  Marcus grins. “They don’t go on until ten, but I thought we could hit the skate park since we’re going downtown.”

  “Oh, reliving our youth are we?” Chloe says. “Maybe you should ask the babysitter?”

  “Marcus,” I say in a groan. “I haven’t been on a board in almost two years, and Chloe’s right. It would be beyond rude to leave her here with Jamie while we went out.”

  He puts his hands up but Chloe waves a wrist. “I’m just being a bitch. He’s right. You need to get out of this house. Let me play mommy for a bit. Hell knows it ain’t going happen until after thirty-five anyway. If then.”

  Marcus’s stoked expression has me internally groaning. I’m not even sure where my board is. “Fine, we’ll go to the skate park, but you’re buying dinner.” Maybe I’ll break an arm falling off my board and this ridiculousness will be null.

  He grins. “Hot dog stand here we come.”

  “I’ll put the lasagna in the oven and set the timer,” I say to Chloe.

  She smiles wolfishly. “That’s why I’m here. Your cooking is the one good thing about your new mommy status.”

  Ignoring her, I stand and tell Marcus, “Just let me find my board and I’ll walk over to your house.”

  “You’re not changing?” Chloe asks.

  I glance down at my yellow tank top and loose khaki shorts. “Yeah, I should probably at least put on capris. I’ll wipe out at least once.”

  “Riley,” Chloe whines. “You’re going to a concert. Guys will be there. Hot older guys.”

  I give her a look. “I’m taking a break from guys. And hot older guys sound out of my league.”

  Her look is icier than mine. “Aaron is so not worth this.”

  Marcus clears his throat.

  “Go home. I’ll be there in five,” I say to him and move toward the house while Chloe mutters in the background. It might be more like fifteen minutes by the time I find the bottom of my closet. If my board is in there. Sliding the glass door open, I’m actually excited to go skate boarding and even to a concert.

  But I am so not trying out as their drummer.

  Chapter 2

  I haven’t eaten like that in months. I pick at food lately. After two chilly dogs and half a cheese fry, my stomach feels like it’s going to burst while my legs and arms feel like rubber from two hours of boarding. Yet I didn’t do too bad after two years off the thing. Not great but not too shabby either. From about fourth grade to tenth, besides drumming, skateboarding was my life. Though boys had been on my radar since eighth grade, one boy in particular caught my eye the end of sophomore year. Aaron. It took a year for me to come out of my tomboy stage—Chloe thinks I’m still partially in it—and three weeks into senior year for him to finally ask me out, but he did.

  Now we’re no more.

  And now I’m back on a skateboard.

  Maybe Chloe’s partially right. I’m just regressing back to a tomboy. In fact, I don’t think I’ve touched my makeup bag since Aaron and I broke up. I haven’t given two shits about what I looked like for most of the summer. Now standing against the balcony banister waiting for the band to start and surrounded by gi
rls dressed like hoochies, I’m wishing I listened to Chloe just a bit. I feel extremely unattractive in an ancient pair of jean capris and a tank top. A bit of hoochieness would help my self-esteem at the moment.

  The old movie theater we’re in is packed wall to wall. Both the lower level and the balcony. A mummer of conversation surrounds us and floats up to us while music plays from speakers above. The packed crowd has me realizing the band is more popular than Marcus led me to believe. He’d been trying to sell me on the fact that they’re just a college band. This crowd implies more than just a college band.

  “So tell me something, Riley,” Marcus says, pulling his gaze from the cleavage of the girl next to him. “Did your mom even try to talk you out of letting the scholarship go?”

  My eyes narrow before I look at the crowd underneath us. “Are you implying my mother’s selfish? You know she’s going through a rough time right now.”

  “I love Mags,” he says and I can hear the grin in his voice. Though my mother’s name is Maggie, he’s called her Mags since sixth grade. At least behind her back. He bumps me with his shoulder. “You know that. I’m just curious.”

  I grip the scarred wood under my palms harder. “She asked several times if I was sure I wanted to stay home.” I’m not about to share the relieved look she wore each time I said yes.

  “And your dad?”

  I shrug. “He’s busy with his new girlfriend.”

  “Why did your parents have to go and get divorced? You know Chloe and me were going to tolerate each other and take a road trip to see you perform in the drumline?”

  My stomach starts to hurt. I wish everyone would quit bringing up the damn drumline. “We’ll come watch you.”

  “The Hawks don’t have a drumline. Shit, Riley we’re barely a Division II university.”

  “Well, that sucks.”

  “And you had a free ride to a Division I. In a warm state.”

  Cheese coagulates in my stomach. Virginia is a tropical paradise compared to mid-Michigan. “Just tuition and books. The dorm was only partial.”