"Um, I'm-I'm sorry," I stammered. "Let me try that again." I blew through my flute exactly how I had a gazillion times before. It produced more squeals. "I think something's wrong with my instrument," I said quietly. This wouldn’t be too surprising considering its age and the amount of time that I put into playing it, but of all the days for it to crap out on me! As Mr. Francis waited and tapped his foot, I turned it over to see if there was a leak or torn pad. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Kathy stifling a laugh.
"Know what, we don't have time for this," Mr. Francis said. "Miss Rhodes, I'm very disappointed with you. I thought you were a role model in this band, but I guess I was mistaken."
"But my flute..." I protested.
He raised a hand and cut me off. "I want to hear Miss Meadows play the section," he ordered, waving his baton at Kathy. "Yes, sir." She quit laughing and sat up as straight as possible. She then went on to nail Les Mis, hitting every freakin' note correctly. I knew I was doomed.
"I don't k-know what happened," I again choked out when she’d finished. I knew it was probably no use pleading my case, but I at least wanted to try.
"Well, I do know what happened," Mr. Francis boomed. "Miss Meadows was prepared .... and you were not. And that's why she's now our section leader."
What? This couldn't be happening. This was a nightmare, right? But there was Kathy, smiling from ear to ear. I felt as if I were having an out-of-body experience and were being sucked into a vortex.
"But that's not fair!" I blurted out. "I did practice! Take a look at my flute; I’ll bet you’ll see that something’s wrong with it."
Mr. Francis was already packing up his briefcase. "Miss Rhodes, I expect you to be more gracious about this," he said. He shoved the rest of his batons into his bag. "This isn't kindergarten. Like I said, I don’t want any crybabies here."
"Yeah, Mel," Kathy chimed in. "You gave it your best shot." She held out her hand. "Aren't you gonna congratulate me? It would mean so much coming from the former first chair flute.
"But-but..." I was beginning to think I'd forgotten how to speak. I knew he'd understand if I could find the right words.
"No butts," said Mr. Francis, peering down at me. "Since you usually do such a great job, I'll be fair and will let you keep second chair. But not if you keep bugging me, okay? That's a warning. Got it?"
"Got it," I muttered, but what I really wanted to do was scream. I was better than Kathy! She didn't deserve to have my seat.
As everyone packed up their instruments, I noticed that one of the springs on my flute had indeed popped out of place. I snapped it back into position, then slammed my instrument case shut. I knew that there was no point in showing it to Mr. Francis. He'd probably just accuse me of undoing the spring to save face or something.
Kathy watched me the entire time, a glint in her eyes. "Congratulations, Mel," she cooed in a sickly sweet voice. "Looks like you got exactly what you deserved."
"No, you got what I deserve," I spat back. "Happy now?”
"Very, in fact," she replied. She swung her Gucci purse over her shoulder and headed to the band locker room. "Oh and Mel," she said, before stepping out the door. "Don't go home and binge eat to fix your stress over this. That's the last thing your thighs need." She giggled as she left.
By now, I was all alone —- or so I thought. I glanced around the empty band room, fighting the urge to throw a few chairs myself. "I hate her," I grumbled, crumpling up my music and tossing it on the floor. "I hate her, I hate her, I HATE HER!" I took a few deep breaths to calm myself, but still wanted to kick something.
I heard a noise behind me and jumped. It was Josh. He was looking at me with his blue eyes, that lopsided grin spreading across his face. I guess I was right; he had been staring at me before. I shyly turned away, but he didn’t seem to notice.
"Bad day, huh?" he asked, sliding into the seat next to me. "Well, I know just how to make things better."
CHAPTER 2
"Here, Melinda," Josh said, handing me a jacket as we entered the now-empty band locker room. The jacket was orange and blue and had the Islanders hockey team logo on it. I stared at his outstretched hand, not quite believing that he meant to talk to me. But he kept holding the jacket toward me. "For your pants?" he said, nodding at my ripped jeans. "I figured you'd want to cover them up with something."
"Oh, thanks," I replied, feeling my face turn warm. With everything that happened during auditions, I'd almost forgotten about my stupid jeans. As I tied the jacket around my waist, Josh kept watching me. "What?" I snapped.
He laughed. "This is how you thank the guy who saved your ass ... rather literally in this case?" He took a seat on one of the tuba cases stacked in the corner. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry that Kathy beat you today. That sucks."
Though his tone was sincere, I was suspicious. It's not like he and I had ever talked before. Still, I was amazed that he even knew my name and wasn't sure how I was supposed to react to this cute guy wanting to talk to me. I took a deep breath and tried not to sound as nervous as I felt. "Why do you care?" I asked. "I thought you're against auditions." I regretted the words as soon as they tumbled out of my mouth. I didn't want him to think I’m a total bitch.
Josh shrugged, not seeming to be put off by me. "I do think auditions are pointless. But I'm also against punishing people for things that aren't their fault, like your flute not working." He slid a hand through his hair, pushing away a lock that had fallen onto his forehead. His square jaw was set and determined.
"My flute's never done that before," I said. "It figures it had to happen today of all days. It's pretty old, though, so I guess... I guess I shouldn't be too surprised." I’ve been asking my parents to get me a new flute for a while but they never seem to have time to take me to the music store.
"I hear you. My trumpet valves have sometimes given up on me. But anyway, to further answer your question, I do care that Francis can be such a jerk."
I nodded. I still couldn't quite comprehend that Josh and I were having what seemed to be, well, a normal conversation. I stood there for a couple of seconds as he waited for me to reply. "Well, yeah, uh, thanks, uh, for your concern —- and the jacket," I finally sputtered out, putting my folder into my band locker. "I'll wash it and get it back to you on Monday." I gathered my things and went to leave, knowing he must think I’m a dork.
He held up his hand to stop me. "Wait a sec," he said, jumping up off the tuba case. "I just want to run something by you. I think I have a little idea you'll like,"
"Uh..wha?" I said, thinking of what Josh's "ideas" involved. Work with him and I'd end up hanging upside-down and naked from the flag pole as he protested politics. "Um, I don't know..." I knew I didn't exactly sound cool, but really, what was I supposed to say? I backed out of the locker room, my face pink.
Josh followed me into the hallway and fell into step beside me. "How'd you like to get your seat back?" he asked. Only he said it really quickly so it sounded more like "Howdylikegetaseatack?"
"Huh?"
"How'd you like to get your seat back?" he said more slowly. "How'd you like to knock Kathy back down to second chair —- or even lower than that?"
I sighed and kept walking. "I'm not really sure I'm the person you want."
"The Hindemith Sonata," he blurted, snapping his fingers. "That's what you played last year at the band recital. It was very good."
I stopped walking, surprised by the compliment. "Thanks."
"Kathy played a Mozart piece and wasn't nearly as good as you," he went on. "I remember that, too. That's how I know she shouldn't have beaten you today."
I was beginning to understand why Josh is so popular; he has this way of making you feel at ease and like everything you say is important. My initial nervousness at being around him washed away. Yet I wasn't entirely convinced that this guy was on my side. How could I trust someone who tormented Mr. Francis on almost a daily basis?
He bit his lip and was quiet for a moment. "Look, I h
ave some issues with Kathy, too," he admitted. "I asked her out this summer at a party we were both at. And you know what she did? She didn't just say no. She spilled a large Coke on my head in front of everyone and then posted photos of me online. Can you believe that?"
I’d missed seeing these photos, but couldn't help laughing at the thought of him dripping with Coke, his ego shattered. I covered my mouth so he couldn't see me, but he did. "Yeah, yeah, it was hilarious," he said, rolling his eyes. "She apparently had some boyfriend there with her who I didn't know about so she was mad at me for daring to approach her. But she didn't have to be such a beyotch.” He shook his head, obviously still pained by the memory. "My point is, she messed with me and now she messed with you. If we don’t stop her, she’ll do it to someone else."
"I guess. But to be fair, Kathy didn't really do anything today," I said. "It was Mr. Francis who flipped out and I should probably be thankful that he didn't make me last chair."
Josh's blue eyes narrowed. "So you think Kathy's innocent in this? Oh, please. Who do you think snapped your spring out of place?
"What?" This hadn't even crossed my mind. Could Kathy have done that to me? No, there was no way. The spring was really small and she would've had to have gotten really close to my instrument in order to do that. "She didn't," I said. "If she did, I would've felt it."
Josh held up the wallet which I kept in my purse. "You didn't feel me taking this.”
I angrily snatched it out of his hand and stuffed it back into my bag. I then realized I'd been so busy listening to Josh that I'd missed my bus. "Damn it!" I muttered.
"What?" He held up his hands. "I swear, I didn't take anything from your wallet!"
"No, it's not that," I explained. "I missed my bus."
Josh smiled. "Hey, no problem. I can give you a ride."
"Really? It's no big deal. I can just walk..."
"Well, I don't think you can really walk in those jeans."
He was right. I didn't need everyone else to see my granny panties and I could be doing worse things than riding home with a hot guy. "Okay, thanks."
"But there's just one condition," he said, as we made our way to the parking lot. "In exchange for this ride, you give me just one chance to help you get your seat back. If it doesn't work or you don't like what I'm doing, I'll leave you alone."
"I don't know..."
"Oh, come on. I gave you my jacket. I'm giving you a ride home... it's the least you can do. Do it for the guy who got a bucket of soda dumped over him?"
I laughed despite myself. "Okay, one chance."
"Oh, good!" he said, clapping his hands. "Let's get ready to bring Kathy down."
CHAPTER 3
Once we got outside, I had to shield my eyes from the blinding sun. Though it was September, the air was still warm and heavy, and the heat beat down on me. In only a few weeks, though, we'd probably all have to wear sweaters.
Josh led me across the parking lot to his car, which turned out to be an old, beat-up station wagon. Several bumper stickers were plastered onto the pea-green vehicle, including ones that said, "Honk if you love Tribbles!" and "I break for Spock."
"What?" Josh said, when he caught me chuckling. "This belonged to my Aunt Sharon. She really loves Star Trek."
"I'm sorry," I said. "This just isn't the type of car I expected you, of all people, to be driving. I thought you'd have something cooler, like a motorcycle." I tried to open the door to the passenger side but it wouldn't budge. He crawled across the driver's seat and pushed it open for me.
"It only opens from the inside," he explained. "But really," he went on, as he cleared a bunch of soda cans off my seat (none were Coke, I noticed). "What did you expect me to drive? I mean, I'm 16 and have hardly any money. I'm just glad my aunt was getting rid of this old thing."
"Well, you're lucky you have your license at all. My parents don't seem too anxious to teach me how to drive when I get my permit." Actually, they haven't wanted to discuss it at all. Whenever I bring up the idea of getting my permit, my mom will be like, "You don't need to drive. There are a lot of crazy people out there." I think she's so reluctant for me to get my license because she hardly drives herself, only on Long Island, but never in the city. But I love the idea of being able to get in a car and go wherever I want. I love the thought of being able to escape when I need to.
Josh turned on the engine and the car made a few choking sounds. "Get someone else to teach you to drive," he said. "It's not like your parents can make you do what they say forever."
"You don't know my parents," I sighed.
###
Josh drove past the never-ending rows of white and gray split-level homes and strip malls. There are about a million of these little malls on Long Island, each containing basically the same set of shops: a pizzeria, a Chinese take-out place, a deli and a laundromat. Sequoia's only about an hour or so from New York City, but you'd never know it given how suburban everything is here. I directed Josh around Lake Sequoia, leading him to my development.
"So, about Kathy," he began as he flipped on the radio. He had it programmed to a classic rock station. "What we need to do is make her mess up so badly that Francis kicks her out of first chair. It's pretty simple, actually."
"How do we do that?" I asked. I wasn't about to get her beaten up or do something else that could get me into trouble.
He shrugged. "I need to think about it. Maybe we could write in some wrong notes on her music?"
I shook my head. "Nah, that probably wouldn't work. She'd probably realize something was off when she played and either fix the notes herself or run crying to Mr. Francis."
"True." He nodded, then stared straight ahead, deep in thought for a moment. "Oh, I know! What if we stuck some gum into one of the pads of her flute?"
"No!" I insisted. "Do you have any idea how expensive flutes are? If we do that and we're found out, we're dead. Besides," I added, "it's not like it's her flute's fault that she sucks. I really don't like the idea of damaging an instrument. The flute's like well, sacred, to me."
"I get it, I get it," Josh said, his eyes twinkling. In the daylight, they matched the sky. "There have been times when I get so into playing that my trumpet feels almost like a person. So you're right. We do need to respect the flute."
"Good." I pointed him toward my block. "That's my house there. The Tudor-style one."
"It's nice," he said, as he pulled into my driveway. I have to admit, our home does stand out. In our development, all of the houses are the same style: two-story colonials that are surrounded by a smallish yard in the front and a larger one in the back. But my parents had the architect add on all these wood designs to the exterior so our place looks a little different from our neighbors'. They had it done after returning from a trip to England that they took when I was just a baby. They say that a lot of the houses over there look like this.
"Well, uh, thank you," I said, carefully opening my door so it wouldn't stick again. "And thanks for the jacket." I grabbed my stuff and stepped onto my driveway.
"No problem," he replied, "but use this weekend to think of things. I’ll e-mail you when I get ideas.”
“Okay.”
"Send me any ideas as soon as you get them," he repeated.
"Sure." I watched him drive away.
###
As soon as he left my driveway, Lana came bounding over to me, her light-brown curls bouncing as she moved. She'd obviously seen me arrive home with Josh and was dying to know what I was doing with him. "What was that about, Mel?" she asked. Josh's car sputtered down the street. "Was that Josh Kowalski?"
"Yep." I grinned, enjoying her shock. I guess I couldn't blame her too much for being surprised to see me being driven home by a guy. Lana's always been the one who's had boyfriends.
Lana Brody and I have known each other since kindergarten when her family moved in across the street from mine. But that's about all we have in common. While I've always been quiet and studious, Lana's more outgoing. She's no
t afraid to go up to guys at the diner and tell them she thinks they're cute or to do something funny like dance on top of a table at a party. When we were younger, my parents loved it when she'd come to our holiday dinners (since she's Jewish, we always have her over for Christmas) because while I preferred to watch all of the action, she'd chat with all of their grown-up friends. "Why can't you be more like Lana?" my mom would ask me after everyone else had gone home and we were cleaning up the dishes. "All you have to do is talk to people like she does and they'll like you."
My parents don't understand that some people are just born friendly, like Lana. She has this way of making everyone notice her, whereas I always seem to say the wrong thing or even worse, can't think of anything to say at all. This is why everyone likes her and I’m basically invisible. Sometimes I worry that the only thing that keeps us friends is the proximity of our houses, but so far, she hasn't ditched me for the cooler crowd.
Lana's green eyes flashed as she waited for an explanation about Josh. "You know, I was so worried about you, Mel," she said, shaking her head. "I heard about your um, situation." She nodded toward my pants. "I was all set to give you a sweater or something to wrap around your waist."
"That's okay, Josh gave me his jacket.” Her eyes widened. "Oh, come on, it wasn't like that."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Then what did he want? I didn't even know you guys knew each other."
"Now we do," I said. I quickly filled her in on the whole Kathy situation and my messed-up audition.
"God, Kathy Meadows is so annoying," Lana said, making a face. "You know, maybe Josh is right. Maybe she really did screw with your flute."
"You think?" I still wasn't so sure that she'd done anything to it, but now two people thought so.
"Yeah, I wouldn't put it past her. Remember how everyone was claiming that she put itching powder into Dani Silver's dress during Homecoming last year?" Dani's the head cheerleader and used to date Kathy's current boyfriend, Adam Lerner. Needless to say, they're not exactly close pals.
Revenge Of A Band Geek Gone Bad Page 2
