As Leila rejoined Maryanne and Kyle at the edge of the dance floor, her lungs constricted. What had she just gotten herself into?
Kyle pulled her aside. “I think Micah’s got a thing for you.”
She shrugged him off. “So are you guys sticking around?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “You should’ve been here for last year’s finale. Coach Brigham played, too. It was great.”
Leila cringed. It’s just the blues. She was probably more familiar with them than anyone there, except perhaps Micah and Ian, but perhaps even more than them. Round and around she psyched herself, twisting her stomach into a knot. Besides, this was just a group of high school students—much easier to impress than her dad.
Leila listened for the next hour, paying even more attention to the tone of the band and how they carried their tempo. She imagined where she might interject a chord or carry along the melody if she were playing.
“You don’t look so good, Leila,” Kyle said as Micah segued into something with heavy blues influence. The crowd had not thinned the way Leila hoped.
“I’m fine …,” she said. Time for fretting ended. Micah smiled at her and nodded. Ian had already taken a seat beside the piano where he tweaked his tuning.
She braced herself, came to her feet, and then headed toward the stage. Wiping her clammy hands over her jeans, she stepped up onto the bandstand. Her stomach rolled. As she pulled up to the piano, Ian shot her a double take. His wide eyes flashed away as he fidgeted with his pick.
“Didn’t I mention I mess around on the piano a little?” she said loud enough for only him to hear.
He shook his head, repressing a smile.
Micah leaned toward her. “Go ahead and fool with the piano a little. Mr. Williams says the action seems stiff—try it out.”
Leila played a few scales, hitting all the octaves. The bass resonated from the soundboard and through the floor. Her fingers moved over the ivories. The mellow tone of chord progressions steadied her breathing and her hands. Glancing at Ian, her smile twitched.
He asked, “Do you think you can play any of that stuff from the tape?”
“The one you misplaced?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“I’ve learned them all, actually,” she said, pushing up angora sleeves and flicking her hair back.
Ian nodded. Micah led with something upbeat. The piano lead-ins were simple and clean and easy to start her off. The drummer and bass guitarist jumped in. Everything Leila had ever learned energized her fingers as she hammered out a few safe chords, peppered with vibratos she learned from her dad, masking some of her stumbling.
After a few minutes she easily dueled with Ian in a lively piano-guitar dialogue. Playing a few standard guitar licks, Micah joined Ian with corresponding riffs. The tall handsome bassist from the neighborhood pulled it all together. Micah then moved to her side, picking up on her cues—visual and musical—as their playing merged into a duet. Micah kept the phrases basic. He led her along and occasionally drew her out, testing her playfulness. He made her look good. Micah and Ian passed the lead between them, each bantering with Leila and then joined back in with the group.
Leila lost track of how long they played. Joe would have been proud of her for trying something so out of her safe routine. Her dad would have criticized how her timing was sometimes off. He would have cringed at her hesitations.
Micah finally took the initiative to wind things down, signaling the drummer who tapered the tempo. Drumsticks reverberated off cymbals that drowned with applause. The remaining students in the audience thinned as the band packed up.
Leila closed the fallboard and swiveled on the piano bench as Ian laid his guitar in its case. Neither looked at the other.
“See ya around,” the bassist nudged Leila as he left the stage.
She offered him a smile. “You ought to come by Artie’s some time.”
The bassist grinned as Micah approached and sat on the bench beside her. “Thanks a lot, Leila. That was amazing!”
She twisted her hair up off her neck, wishing for a breeze. “Well, thanks for picking up the slack where I messed up.”
“Are you kidding me?” Micah bobbed. “You were great, wasn’t she, Coach?”
Ian looked her straight in the face. Perspiration glistened at his brow. “You were good. Very good.”
Leila hoped Micah was too stoned to notice the way their stares lingered.
“Well, anyway, it was fun,” she said, coming to her feet, wiping her hands over her back pockets.
Ian rose with her. “It was a good time, Micah—”
“Well, I’ve really gotta run,” she said, without giving Micah a chance to say anything more.
She came off the stage ahead of Ian. Across the gym, Karen Weiss hung back at the front exit, looking directly at them.
Leila turned to him. “Ian—”
He shot a glance at Miss Weiss and tensed. “Leila, we should just say goodnight.”
“As opposed to …?”
His eyes darted.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know. Goodnight, Coach.”
He turned and headed to the side exit. Leila left through the back alcove. As she stepped through the door and into the hallway, she stumbled upon Kyle and Maryanne making out in such a heated passion that they didn’t even notice her until she was passing by.
“Jeez, Leila—a little warning would be nice,” Kyle said, pulling his hand from under Maryanne’s sweater. Neither made a move to follow her.
“Sorry.” Leila blushed and exited.
The elation she experienced on stage disappeared as soon as she stepped into the dark. She looked up into crisp, black skies, expecting the awesomeness she had grown accustomed to in New Hampshire. It seemed half the stars had disappeared, relinquishing their brightness above an over-lit island. Or perhaps they had simply fallen from the sky. Nothing ever stayed the same, not even something as consistent as the unchanging heavens.
Chapter 14
Leila passed through the school corridors Monday morning, weaving through the blue-jeans-and-T-shirted obstacle course. Unsolicited greetings hurried her all the faster to homeroom. As the first to arrive, she sat alone with Mr. Myles.
“Well, Miss Sanders,” he said, peering over his magazine as usual, “you continue to surprise me.”
She pitched him an inquisitive look.
“You failed to mention that you’re an improvisational pianist.”
How had he so quickly found out? “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
“Admittedly so. Yet, for someone trying to fly beneath the radar, I am a little taken aback by such risky behavior ….” His words hung in midair like a bass note as students began entering.
What had he meant by that? She hated the way he forced her to second-guess decisions—if not poorly thought-out impulses. Not that she hadn’t been second-guessing since before she even stepped onto the bandstand. But now, thanks to Mr. Myles, she had to reconsider it all over again.
How could playing the piano be risky? It wasn’t as if her performance had been publicized on a billboard. And who cared, anyway? Though in the back of her mind, Miss Weiss concerned her. But even still, she had been careful with Ian, hadn’t she? And so what if she had made a few friends and some from her neighborhood recognized her? Okay, there might be a problem with Micah—she could tell he liked her. But he hadn't asked her out, so she didn’t have to make up some lame excuse or tell him she didn’t want to go out with someone like her dad, or that she was in love with Coach Brigham. Besides all that, her father couldn’t make her move again, now that she was settled. And the state didn’t care whom she played piano with. Nevertheless, the same old withdrawal pulled her away from the normalcy she craved. As always, being a regular teenager felt as risky as ever.
When Kyle sat behind her, he gave her a good-natured nudge. She didn’t respond.
“What’s with you?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.”
In math, she passed Friday’s quiz with a sixty-six percent, lifting some of her pessimism, until Myles announced the upcoming, semi-quarterly exam. Kyle let out a heavy sigh. They would have to step up their studies.
~
After math, Kyle arrived at their locker, just behind Leila. Sure, she had said she was fine, but things had gone so well on Saturday that he expected a different post-homecoming Leila. At least a friendlier or more relaxed or happier Leila. She exchanged her textbooks and went to shut the door when he grabbed it, blocking her escape. “What’s the hurry?”
“No hurry,” she said, but her eyes darted past him.
“You had fun at homecoming, didn’t you?”
“Sure.”
“You were a regular social butterfly.”
She ignored his comment. “So, what are we going to do about Friday’s exam?”
“We should probably double up—study every afternoon, starting today.”
“Okay, just as long as we’re done in time for my job.”
He nudged her, hoping to lighten her up. “You know what that means! We get to run every morning too.”
“Okay, well, I gotta go,” she said and ducked under his arm into the stream of students.
He scratched his head as she disappeared down the hall.
That afternoon, Leila was just as aloof. He played along, equaling her detachment, focusing strictly on the lessons. Just the same, her sullenness perplexed and even irritated him.
~
Kyle trailed a few steps behind Leila as they walked from his house to the track in silence. Now that the temperature had dropped, she had finally resorted to wearing sweatpants instead of shorts, but she still had the cutest wiggle to her rear end. Admiring her derrière, he assessed her mood. As they stretched, he winked and coaxed her smile.
“I’m all for comfort,” he said. “I just miss those long gams.”
She gave him a friendly slap. Perhaps her mood had subsided.
“So where did you learn to play piano?” Kyle ventured as they took to the track. “Did your parents make you take lessons or what?”
Her rhythm faltered. “My dad taught me.”
“That’s right, he’s a musician. Does he play anything besides piano?”
“Guitar and percussion.”
“Cool. So who are the guys you jam with, anyway?”
She didn’t answer right away. “Just some old-timers.”
“So when you say old, how old do you mean?”
“Pretty old. Artie’s in his eighties.”
Now his rhythm faltered. “Wow! Okay, so, do you realize how weird that is? I mean, not necessarily weird in a bad way. Just really out of the ordinary.”
“I guess. That’s just what I grew up with.”
“Really?”
She picked up her pace. “So didn’t your parents make you take some sort of music lessons?”
“I wish! My mother, being a dance instructor and all, made me take lessons and from her no less,” he said, keeping up. “It’s a wonder I’m as well-adjusted as I am.”
“Yeah, well, I’m really impressed with the way you dance. I dance like a backup singer.”
Kyle chuckled at how she nailed her self-description. “So, back to your dad.”
“What about my dad?” She looked at him askance and then dashed ahead of him in a full run, forbidding further questions. She sure knew how to end a conversation. He didn’t bother to catch up. Over the next several days, he let her set the pace of their dialogue and their pace on the track, keeping conversation light and impersonal.
~
On Friday afternoon, Kyle and Micah exited the school building together. Micah had been asking about Leila all week long, so Kyle had a pretty good idea of what his friend had in mind when they met up with her. The three chatted for a minute, and then Micah directed his attention to Leila. That was Kyle’s cue. He lagged behind but couldn’t help eavesdropping.
Micah cleared his throat. “So, Leila, I was wondering if you want to get together and jam sometime.”
“To tell you the truth—” she squirmed, “—I’ve just got too much going on right now.”
She didn’t even temper her refusal with, ‘I would really like to but …,’ or offer the easy let down, ‘Maybe when things slow down a little ….’ She didn’t even bother with ‘Gosh, I’m sorry …. ’
Micah’s head bobbed and his shoulders slumped. “Okay … sure, that’s cool ….”
Leila walked away, leaving them both behind. Kyle took for granted his steady girlfriend until disappointment and bewilderment furrowed Micah’s brow. Saying anything to console him would only rub it in.
She continued her brisk walk as Kyle caught up. As she stepped through the chain-link fence, he said, “Jeez, Leila. That was pretty cold.”
Equaling his irritated stare, she turned. “Give me a break.”
He was tired of giving her a break. “I don’t believe you.”
“You know what? I’ve got a splitting headache, and I’m not in the mood for this,” she said, and although she didn’t break into a run, she left him behind. When she headed for her car instead of his house, the day’s lesson was off.
“Fine,” he said under his breath. What was her problem anyway?
~
Leila’s head split. Everything might spill out if she had to say another word to anyone. Was following in her dad’s moody footsteps inevitable? The bewilderment in Kyle’s eyes matched the way she had felt when trying to understand her dad’s withdrawals. If it weren’t for Joe, she didn’t know what she would have done. But then, even he couldn’t hack it anymore. Why had he stuck around as long as he did? If only her dad’s cancer had been diagnosed sooner, Joe never would have left. And she hadn’t been allowed to say anything about the cancer until it came back. By then, Joe had changed. Sure, he sent money and postcards and even called occasionally, but he didn’t sound the same. With three thousand miles between them, how could it ever be the same again? Nevertheless, if he had called that afternoon, she would have begged him to come home.
Chapter 15
Kyle sat on his front stoop, his gaze fixed at the intersection down his street, waiting for Leila’s little blue bug. Perhaps she wouldn’t even bother to show up after yesterday’s rift, but right on time, she turned the corner.
As she climbed from her car, her smile seemed forced. He didn’t feel like forcing conversation on top of it. Without a word, he met her at the curb, and they began their walk to the track. They remained silent until they slipped through the hole in the fence.
“I don’t blame you if you don’t want to talk to me,” she said.
“Hey, I’m not the one who gets all tight lipped.”
“You’re upset with me.”
“Yeah, that’s right. I am.”
Kyle waited for her to pursue it while they stretched, and then moved on to the track. They started a slow jog. After a minute, she spoke. “Are you going to tell me why?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell you why. For starters, I can’t believe the way you blew Micah off.”
“I didn’t blow him off.”
“You did too! He was crushed. You, of all people, should know how sensitive musician types are.”
Leila’s shoulders dropped and she nearly tripped. “Yeah, well, I just don’t need to get involved with some musician-type guy.”
Her pace increased. So did Kyle’s as he breathed in puffs. “I don’t believe you! Did you even hear what you just said and how stupid that sounds coming out of your mouth?”
Her breathing outpaced her stride. “Being a musician or jamming with one is far different from being in a relationship with one.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, to men—to musicians like Micah—their music is more important to them than anything or anyone.”
“Well
, what exactly are you expecting from him? I mean, he barely knows you, and already he’s singing you songs. What more do you want from the poor guy?”
“Yeah, well, singing to someone or writing them a song does not compensate for not being there.”
“For God’s sake Leila, the guy just wants to play music with you. It’s not like he wants to marry you.” He looked at her, confounded. “What are you even talking about, anyway?”
Leila pushed ahead. While they still had air and were able to converse, he would push her boundaries.
“Leila,” he softened his tone. “We’re not talking about Micah, are we?”
She did not respond but for the pain clouding her eyes. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on at home, Leila? What is it? Is your father a drunk or something?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he sensed she was building to the point of breaking out in a full-out run. As she pushed ahead, he continued to sprint alongside her. She increased her pace but could not shake him.
He grabbed her arm. “Leila!”
She jerked out of his grip. Her body came to an abrupt standstill. He stopped just ahead.
She blurted, “Did it ever occur to you that there are things I just don’t want to talk about, things that you don’t need to know? So why don’t you just get off my back and let’s run.”
She charged past him, running at a fast clip for about a hundred meters. Kyle did not take off after her. He stood dumfounded and then set out walking in her direction. What had he unleashed?
She approached the long stretch of the track and veered off, heading toward the short chain-link fence. As she gripped it, her chest heaved. She turned to face him, her anguished eyes seeking his. He started toward her as she clutched the linked fence behind, her body rocking.
“What is it Leila? Why don’t you just tell me?”
She drew in a breath. “My father’s not a drunk. He died almost a year ago.” She seemed to be waiting for his response, but he had none. Her words had not begun to sink in when she continued, “I live on my own, by myself, in a place I don’t want to be, with people I scarcely know, just trying to make the best of it. Until I met you, I’d never even had a glimpse at a life like you have. Two parents living in a nice home, probably the one you’ve always lived in, with friends you’ve known all your life. Having friends your own age instead of a bunch of old musicians.” She barely paused to breathe. “Hanging around smelly nightclubs or someone’s dilapidated garage as your father and the guys drink beer and work on their sound. Always looking for a better gig someplace else, in some state halfway across the country.”
Portrait of a Girl Running Page 13
