###
Once I got inside, I checked in and made my way down to his room, 312, pulling my sweater around me as tightly as possible. The walls of the home are always decorated with colorful notices and photographs, I guess so that the place looks more inviting, but it never seems to work because there's still that heavy stench of death hanging in the air.
The home also likes to hire music therapists to perform for the patients. I think it's supposed to stimulate them. So when I got to his room, a young-looking guy with curly dark hair was playing the accordion and singing, "She'll Be Coming 'Round The Mountain" at what seemed like the top of his lungs. Usually that song's cheerful, but the way he sang it, like he was desperate, made it sound more mournful than anything. I like the idea that music can help people get well, but my grandfather didn't seem to even notice that the man was there.
Thankfully, the man stopped playing when I came in. He gave me a little smile and nod, then left me alone with my grandfather and one of the nurses. I placed my painting on the windowsill. I didn't care what my mother said, back when my grandfather was in better shape, he'd always liked my artwork. Just in case, I asked, "This isn't going to make him worse or anything, is it?"
The nurse eyed my "melted room" picture and smiled. "No, I don't think so," she told me. "I think it's pretty."
After that, I just sat with my grandfather for a little while. I'm not entirely sure if he knew I was there, but I swear, I think I saw him crack a little smile at one point. I was glad that I brought the painting after all.
###
Later, I told my mom that I needed to go to Josh's to study. He offered to pick me up, but I knew my parents would wonder where I was all day. I couldn't lie that I was at Lana's because they could just go across the street to check up on me. So I figured that being honest —- well, sort of honest, anyway —- was the best thing to do.
"This boy, is he the same one from band who called the other night?" Mom asked as we headed toward his house. Josh lived on the other side of the lake, past the pizzeria and trailer homes. My mom made a face as we drove by. "Are you sure it's safe for you to be in this part of town?"
"Mom, he lives only 10 minutes away," I said. I rolled my eyes. Leave it to her to think that you need to live in a big house in order to be safe.
"Well, what kind of homework are you doing?" she went on. "And is it just going to be you and him? Why couldn't you meet up at the library? Or our house?" When she caught me gritting my teeth she said, "Honestly, Melinda, I have a right to know these things!" She sighed and shoved a lock of her hair behind her ear.
"We're doing chemistry homework," I fibbed, "and yes, his mom will be home. Don't worry." I didn't know for sure that she would be home or even if he lived with his mother for that matter, but the less said about it, the better.
"But why do you need to be in his house?" Mom repeated. Her expression suddenly changed as she got a gleam in her eye. "Unless," she said, "this boy likes you." I groaned. "Oh, come on, in my day, when a boy liked a girl, he'd invite her over for homework." She smiled. "You know, some of the best times I had with your dad were when we were doing 'homework.' " She put air quotes around the last word.
I clenched my hands into fists. I just loved how one moment she was all concerned about my safety because Josh lives in a poorer part of town, but the next she was ready to marry me off to the first boy who spoke to me. "In your day, you were still doing your homework on stone tablets!" I snapped.
She frowned. "I just want you to be happy, Mel. And it's not normal for someone your age to not have gone out on some dates yet. This is why I think you should lose a few pounds. That would definitely help. Look at Lana," she said. "She even dated that cute football player ... what's his name?"
"Dick-wad," I thought. Or maybe "Jerk-off," depending on what kind of mood Lana was in.
I didn't answer my mom. Instead, I nodded toward Josh's street, Azalea Lane. "This is it, you have to make a right," I told her. As we pulled into his driveway, a grin formed on my face. "Wow," I announced as I hopped out of the car. "This looks exactly like the home that serial killer lived in, you know, the one who was featured on America’s Most Wanted?"
My mother's mouth fell open and she tightened her grip around the steering wheel. I ran up to Josh's door before she had a chance to stop me.
###
Josh lived in a small, one-story home with blue shingles and a large bay window. In the past, a lot of people would spend their summers out by Lake Sequoia so many of the homes in the area are converted bungalows. I guessed that this is what Josh's house was. But while many of the other homes around the lake looked as if they were going to fall apart, Josh's was in good shape. A row of trimmed bushes lined the stone pathway and a set of wind chimes hung by his front stoop. There was even a stone bird bath on the lawn.
When I rang the doorbell, Beethoven's "Fur Elise" played. A moment later, an attractive blonde woman answered. Turns out that Josh's mom was home; then again, this lady looked so young she could've been his sister. "Call me Lily," she announced as she beckoned me into the living room. "You must be Mel, right?"
"Yes," I said, suddenly feeling shy. I stood right by the door, not knowing what to do next.
"Josh has told me so much about you," Lily went on, her blue eyes twinkling. She motioned for me to take a seat on the floral-patterned couch. "He says that you play flute and that you're a really good musician."
Lily's long, blonde hair was tied back in an elaborate braid and her floor-length skirt was covered in embroidery. When I got closer, I saw that she had chunky rings on almost every finger. There was something about her that immediately made me feel welcome; I think it was the way she gave me the same lopsided smile as Josh.
"I've been playing the flute since I was a kid," I said, "so I guess I am pretty good." I wanted to ask her what else Josh had said about me, but didn't want to seem too pushy.
"Did he tell you that I play guitar?" Lily asked. She nodded to the guitar case that was propped up in the corner. It was covered with stickers, each which had the name of a city.
"No, actually he didn't."
"Well, I teach it. And I play in a band. I was even in a rock band for a few years and went on the road. Had some wild times." She got a dreamy look in her eyes as she said this, as if she wanted to go back to those "wild times" right then.
"That's really cool," I said, impressed. "I want to be a professional musician, too."
"It's hard work, but you'll do it," she said, looking right at me. "I can tell just by being around you that you like to chase your dreams. I can also tell that you're very introspective; you're the type of person who sees hidden truths in the world and strives to expose them." At my surprised expression, she shrugged. "I'm good at sensing things about people; it's a gift," she explained. "Sitting here with you just now, your aura spoke to me."
I found it kind of funny that my aura was a better conversationalist than I was.
###
After a few minutes of talking to my aura, Lily got up and peeked into the hallway that was adjacent to the living room. "Josh!" she called. "Your friend is here. Get out of the shower." When there was no answer, she yelled even louder, "JOSHY! Come out right now."
Okay, this confirmed it —- Lily was indeed his mother.
A red-faced Josh emerged a minute later. "Mom, I got it from here," he said, toweling off his damp hair. When Lily went to tussle it, he ducked away. “Mom, come on!"
I giggled. Even Mr. Cool sometimes got embarrassed by his mommy.
###
Once we entered his room, I paused and took a good look around. This was my first time in a boy's room —- not counting my cousins' or anything like that —- and I needed to take it all in. I was now in alien territory.
Only Josh's room was anything but alien. It was actually neater than I imagined a boy's room would be, though there was a lingering scent of sweat and old socks. Still, everything was in place. His wooden-framed bed was covered with
a brown and white plaid quilt and his worn carpet was tan. Across from his bed was a desk with his computer and in the corner was a small TV. His walls were completely covered with rock posters, almost all featuring old bands and musicians. There were ones of The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, The Ramones, The Beatles, Cream, Steely Dan, Metallica and Kansas. Right above the bed was a framed photograph of the legendary trumpet player Dizzy Gillespie.
"Sorry about leaving you with her like that," he said plopping down on his bed. "She has this thing about treating all of my friends as if they're her best friend or something."
I took a seat in his computer desk chair. "It's okay, she was nice. She seems so laid-back, so different from my mom."
"She's pretty cool for a mom," he agreed, playing with his bedspread. "And she works really hard, has two jobs. Somehow with all of that, she manages to keep me from starving."
"What about your dad?" I asked, but as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I regretted it. Not everybody has both parents at home.
"He split when my mom was pregnant with me," Josh explained in an even tone. "I don't know much about him. Kowalski's not even his last name, it's my mother's."
"Oh." I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. Was I supposed to now hug him or something since he'd shared this sad personal story with me?
Josh eyed me. "Don't feel sorry for me," he said sharply. "We're not rich or anything like you are, but I'm glad that I don't have some loser for a father ruining my life, you know?"
I nodded. "I guess. And I'm not rich," I insisted. "My mom always makes me shop when there are sales in the stores. She's always reminding me that we have to save up for college."
This is true. Even though my parents do pretty well for themselves when it comes to money, my mom hates spending it. My dad's always buying new "toys" for himself like a huge flat-screen TV or an iPad, but I don't think my mom's purchased a new outfit for herself in at least five years. I’m lucky I have a new phone, but that’s mainly so they can keep tabs on me.
"Yeah, well, for the first four years of my life, I lived in a van while my mother and her friends were busy touring with their band," Josh shot back. "If it was a good day, we had a decent meal. But there were plenty of times when we made soup for dinner by dumping ketchup packets into water."
"Wow." Shopping in the bargain bin hardly compared to that.
"But anyway," he said, obviously eager to change the subject. "Why don't we put some music on." I gaped as he pulled out a box of vinyl records from his closet. "How about this?" he asked, holding one up. "You like Jethro Tull?"
"Who?" I'd never heard of them before. I couldn't get over the fact that Josh had a record player.
"Seriously, you don't know Tull?" he said, shaking his head in amazement. "I would've thought you'd have been all over them." He placed the record on his player. "I think you'll like them. They've got this kick-ass flutist in the band. Trust me, you've never heard anything like it."
"Okay," I said, eyeing the record player. I know my grandparents had them growing up, but the only other times I'd seen them were in museums or antique shops.
"It's pretty cool, huh?" he said, grinning. "It used to be my mom's. She saved all of her albums."
"But she's so young!" I blurted out. "Surely she grew up with CDs."
"She did, but albums are historical, you know? A lot of these are original recordings that she got online or in vintage music stores." He put his finger to his lips. "Now listen," he said quietly. "Here comes that flute I was telling you about."
I closed my eyes as the rock tune suddenly launched into a lilting flute melody. Josh was right; this really wasn't like anything I'd heard before. The flute sailed high above the bass line, twisting and contorting the notes until they were almost unrecognizable. I drummed my fingers in time to the beat. When I opened my eyes, Josh was lying back in his bed, a glazed expression on his face. I recognized that look because I'd gotten it many times while I was practicing. He was melding into the music, dissecting every note and beat and nuance. He let it take him into another world.
###
Once the album was over, Josh hopped off of his bed and carefully placed the record back into its case. "That was awesome," I said. "First thing I'm doing when I get home is downloading them."
He smiled. "See, I knew you'd like it. There's nothing like the classics."
I looked around his room. "So I guess you're really into all this old stuff then?"
He frowned. "It's not old. It's classic. Or maybe vintage. But there's a reason why it's still popular all these years later. Because it's good."
###
After Josh played a few more albums for me (one by The Beatles and one by AC DC), he stood up and motioned at his computer. "So about Kathy," he began. "I suppose we ought to get to work."
"Um ... okay," I said. Truthfully, I was having such a good time just hanging out with him and listening to music that I didn't care if we worked on our "project" or not, but I didn't want to disappoint him. Not when I was finally getting to be true friends with Josh.
"I've thought about this and I think I came up with another good idea," he said, smiling. He sat back down on his bed. "Name everything that Mr. Francis hates."
I thought for a moment. The guy pretty much hated everything so there was plenty to choose from. "Getting interrupted ... um, you ... when people play wrong notes, you, when people are late, you..." I laughed. "Did I mention you?"
Josh stuck out his tongue. "Ha ha. Well, Miss Smart Ass, you forgot one thing. Remember when that college student came by to guest conduct last year and took the podium?"
"Oh yeah, and Mr. Francis went nuts!" The poor student didn't know what had happened. One minute he was all ready to conduct us, which was probably something his school required him to do, and the next Mr. Francis was shrieking, "It's my band, MY band, get out of here!" I shuddered at how sensitive Mr. Francis was about people taking over his class.
"That's right," Josh said. He smirked. "Well, we're going to get Kathy to conduct the class. And then we'll have front-row seats to watch ole Francis's head spin around and fly off."
I shook my head. "Oh come on. How on earth are we going to get Kathy to do that? She's such a goody-goody with teachers, she'd never do anything that would get her into trouble."
"No, she wouldn't," Josh said slowly, "which is why we have to make her think she's been awarded the opportunity."
I didn't respond. Frankly, it sounded rather far-fetched.
"Admit it, Mel, it's genius!" Josh said. He giggled. "Can you imagine? Kathy will come to school thinking that she's won some great honor and then the next thing she knows, she's getting kicked out of band. And then you'll be first chair again ... see? It's perfect."
"I don't know... don't you think she'd try to find out who told her she had this 'honor?' We could seriously get busted."
"Yeah, we could," Josh admitted, "but that's why we have to be extra sure that we cover our tracks. You see, I thought we'd write a letter, and then send it from the school."
I crinkled my brow. "You mean hack into the school system and e-mail it?"
Josh stared at me. "Are you kidding? That's almost guaranteed to get us caught. Besides, when it comes to important stuff, the school still sends snail mail. So we’re going to write a nice old-fashioned letter, only we'll make sure it's printed on the school's letterhead and sealed in a Sequoia High envelope."
"That's impossible," I said quietly. I shuddered as I envisioned armed guards leading us off to juvie for daring to do this. "I don't know if I really want to do this anymore," I said. "I, uh, just don't think I'm really cut out for this whole scheming thing."
"But, Mel, I need you," Josh said. He stood up and snapped his fingers. "Tell you what. I'll take care of all the dirty work, like getting the letter sent, but will you at least help me edit my writing? I really do need the help," he said, "and I promise that if anything happens, I'll take the blame."
"I don't want you to get sent
to juvie, either."
Josh burst out laughing. "Please, you think this will get me sent away? Gimme a break. I've done much worse and I'm still a full-time student at the hell hole known as Sequoia High."
###
Josh showed me the draft he'd been working on. Basically the letter said that Kathy was chosen to be a part of a new program called "Students For Students," in which qualified kids would get to teach a class for a day. Since Kathy was now first chair in wind ensemble, she'd been selected to guest conduct.
"Dear Miss Meadows," it began. "Congratulations on being named first chair. As an ambassador to our musical department, it's your duty..." I stopped reading. "Ambassador? Duty? That doesn't quite sound right. It sounds like a letter from the Army or something."
Josh nodded. "I know, right? I've been working all morning on getting that 'school lingo' down, but I guess not, huh?"
"No, it's pretty good," I told him. "It just needs a little work.
Like instead of calling her an 'ambassador,' how about 'student leader?' "
Josh grinned. "That's perfect! See, Mel," he said. "I knew you'd be good at this. I knew you'd have a knack for writing. I could just tell."
I smiled, even though I was helping him with something that was probably going to get him —- and maybe even me —- kicked out of school. A compliment is a compliment.
###
Finally after about an hour of tinkering, we came up with our final draft. I had to admit, it did sound pretty authentic.
Dear Ms. Meadows,
Congratulations on your recent achievement in wind ensemble. As one of our student leaders at Sequoia High School, you are a role model to your peers. We'd like to give you the opportunity to hone your leadership skills in a public setting.
Revenge Of A Band Geek Gone Bad Page 5
