by Pearl Love
Tyrell nodded. “He’s pretty cool. Why did you change schools?”
The question was innocuous, something anyone would ask a transfer student, but Jeremy stiffened with automatic resistance. He had no desire to dwell on the subject of his previous school. He didn’t reflect on his time at River Vista with any fondness, and he didn’t trust Tyrell nearly enough to relate the complete truth about the awful bullying he’d been subjected to or its ultimate cause. He’d ducked the question from Cynthia earlier, and struggled to figure out how to do so again.
“I just wanted a change of pace,” he said, improvising. It wasn’t completely untrue. “Besides, it’s not good to get too attached to things, don’t you think?”
Jeremy didn’t realize he was toying with his pendant until he noticed the direction of Tyrell’s gaze. Talk of letting go always brought Chris to mind.
“Yeah, I agree.”
Tyrell’s tone made Jeremy look twice. He knew at that moment that Tyrell had experienced his own loss of someone close to him. Curiosity pricked at him, but he didn’t feel comfortable enough with the budding friendship to press. Friendship? Jeremy’s unconscious use of the term gave him a moment’s pause, but he decided it was as good a word as any. Tyrell had made a concerted effort to bury any lingering bad feeling between them, and it would be wrong of him not to accept the overture for what it was.
“Why’d you choose a sissy instrument like the clarinet?”
Jeremy was equally grateful for the change of subject and suspicious of Tyrell’s characterization, but he could tell by the teasing grin on his new friend’s face that Tyrell didn’t mean anything in particular by his choice of words. At least, Jeremy hoped he didn’t. He hated the thought of returning to the awkward silence that had dominated their relationship until now.
“Like I said, my brother played the trumpet, and I really thought about taking that up. But I was a really huge Benny Goodman fan, even when I was five. Still am.”
“Benny Goodman.” Tyrell frowned and cut his gaze to the side, looking thoughtful. “Where have I heard that name before?”
Jeremy had expected Tyrell to ask who the heck he was talking about, so the question came as a surprise. Then again, Jeremy was beginning to understand that he’d been wrong about a lot of things when it came to Tyrell. “He was a big band jazz master from the swing era,” he explained.
Tyrell’s face lit up with a smile. “Oh yeah! My grandma loves that stuff. She’s always playing that old music. It’s nice, but I don’t know if I’ve heard any of Benny Goodman’s stuff.”
Jeremy was already unpacking his clarinet. “Here,” he said as he pushed the bell securely into the lower joint. “I’ll play you something. Maybe you’ll recognize it.” He stuck the reed in his mouth as he thought about what to play, but when he glanced at Tyrell he nearly choked on it. Tyrell was staring none too subtly at where the reed was poking out between his lips. Had he been wrong about which way Tyrell’s interests lie? Jeremy quickly put the unproductive thought to rest. He hadn’t imagined the look on Tyrell’s face when he saw him talking in the stairwell with that pretty girl with the braids. If Mr. Hottie Hughes was attracted to anyone, it was girls. Still Jeremy quickly removed the reed from his mouth and placed it in the mouthpiece, praying to God he wasn’t blushing.
“Maybe you’ve heard this one,” Jeremy said before breaking into a rendition of one of Goodman’s most popular pieces.
Sure enough Tyrell was soon nodding enthusiastically. “Yep, I definitely know that one. You’re really good!”
The blush Jeremy had successfully staved off only moments before claimed victory over his face. He looked down and mumbled his thanks, hoping Tyrell would remain oblivious of the reason for his reaction. For the umpteenth time since he’d experienced his first sunburn, Jeremy cursed the fairness of his complexion. It sucked being such an open book.
“I’m not surprised you’ve heard it before,” Jeremy remarked after recovering his composure. “It’s been all over the place, in movies and commercials and what have you.”
“Right. I think I probably heard it on a commercial, but my grandma plays it a lot too. What’s the name of it again?”
“‘Sing, Sing, Sing.’”
Tyrell raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s kind of lame. Isn’t it played using only instruments? I don’t remember ever hearing a singer.”
Jeremy laughed. “You’re right. I never thought about it that way. Okay, have you heard this one?”
“‘Flat Foot Floogie,’” Tyrell replied almost instantly. He smirked when Jeremy stared at him in surprise. “Big Momma loves Count Basie. She plays that song all the damn time.” As Jeremy continued to play, he tilted Jeremy’s music stand flat and began to tap out the perfect rhythm on its surface.
Inspiration hit Jeremy like an avalanche. Here was the perfect addition to his as-yet-to-be-formed jazz band. Not only was Tyrell an amazing drummer, he already seemed to be quite familiar with the genre. Jeremy considered how best to approach making him the offer.
“That pendant really is cool,” Tyrell said before Jeremy could speak. “But, you know, I thought it looked brighter when we saw you that day in Carm’s. Huh, guess I was mistaken.”
Bleating to a halt, Jeremy gaped at Tyrell, his clarinet still poised at his slackened lips. This was the first confirmation he’d received that he hadn’t simply imagined seeing his pendant glow while he was being chased. Never in a million years would he have expected it to come from Tyrell. Jeremy didn’t have a clue how to respond. Did he refute Tyrell’s observation or say merely that it had been a trick of the sunlight? Or did he dare confess what had happened to him?
“Hey, guys. It’s time you boys went home. I need to clean up before heading out myself.”
Jeremy started and turned toward Mr. Crabtree. His teacher was locking the door of the instrument closet, and Jeremy noticed for the first time that he and Tyrell were the only students remaining in the band room.
“Thanks again, Mr. Crabtree, for letting me play.” Tyrell picked up his backpack from where he’d dropped it on the floor. “I really appreciate the opportunity.”
“Not at all, Tyrell. I’m thrilled you agreed to join us.” A friendly smile stretched across his face. “I know you’re going to be a fantastic addition to our ensemble.” He shot Jeremy a glance. “In fact, Jeremy, I think you should tell Tyrell about your little project.”
Tyrell frowned at Jeremy. “What project?”
Jeremy was still perturbed about what Tyrell had or had not seen and decided to leave the topic for another day. “I’ll tell you later,” he replied succinctly. “See ya, Mr. Crabtree.”
Tyrell made his own farewells and headed with Jeremy toward the exit. “You catching the bus home?” he asked as they mounted the wide steps.
“Yeah, but I thought I’d walk over to Halsted since it’s finally gotten a bit cooler out.”
“Oh okay. I need to get home to help with my grandma, so I’ll probably catch the bus in front of school.”
Jeremy refused to believe Tyrell looked disappointed. He couldn’t be so lucky. A noise from the front of the classroom caught his attention right as he and Tyrell reached the door to the hallway. He glanced back and saw that Mr. Crabtree was dropping an apple core into the trash can. The teacher was watching them with an oddly pleased smile on his face, but he said nothing as they left the band room.
Chapter FOURTEEN
“MORNING, TYRELL.”
“Hey, morning.”
Tyrell barely remembered the guy who’d spoken to him. He was pretty sure they’d been in the same Geometry class last year. Normally, he wasn’t the type to speak to people he didn’t know really well, but everything about today seemed different, so why not this too?
Long and short of it: he was in a great mood. The sky was brighter, the clouds whiter, and the sun, well, sunnier. Kevin had asked him whether he was on drugs when he’d grabbed his little brother in a crushing one-armed hug as they’d met in
the kitchen to pick up their respective lunches. He’d cuffed Kevin on the back of the head on principle, but even the suspicious gaze his mother had given him upon hearing Kevin’s snarky remark hadn’t dimmed his humor.
He was well aware of the cause of his upbeat attitude. Any doubts he’d had about joining the band had been put to rest the moment Tina had handed him her drumsticks and told him to knock himself out. All the tension and uncertainty he’d been feeling for the past week had drained away, leaving nothing behind but contentment. He’d finally found where he was meant to be, expressing and releasing his deepest emotions through the rat-ta-tat-tat of the snare drum. The fact that Jeremy had been there to share in his discovery was merely a bonus.
Tyrell shied away from pondering how very glad he’d been to have an actual conversation with Jeremy. He’d figured that, like himself, Jeremy was slow to warm up to new people, but Tyrell knew he’d been mostly to blame for the painfully wrong foot they’d started off on. At least all of that was now water under the bridge, and he for one was extremely relieved. He was halfway to his first class before he realized he’d made the entire trip to school with a stupid grin on his face. A quiet voice deep inside insisted it was because he’d been thinking about Jeremy.
He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d praised Jeremy’s playing. He’d never seen anything like it. Jeremy’s fingers had moved with hypnotic fluidity as they flew over the keys. Even though he’d been concentrating on his own playing, Tyrell hadn’t been able to take his eyes off him. The swell of sound from the ensemble had swirled around him, yet somehow Tyrell was certain that he had heard the notes from Jeremy’s clarinet over the other music. Tyrell knew he was obsessing over his new friend—yes, he liked that word—but he refused to be bothered by it.
Having guy friends was cool. Look at him and Ryan. They were nearly as close as he was to his brother, and they didn’t really have much in common beyond a long-shared history. He felt that he and Jeremy had truly connected through their mutual love of music. Despite the difference in their skill levels, Jeremy had treated him like an equal. He would be forever grateful that he’d gathered up the courage to speak with Jeremy after rehearsal, and he made a mental note to thank Cynthia for insisting that he get his head out of his ass and apologize for his previous behavior.
He bounded up the last of the stairs to the second floor where his English Lit was, a happy smile still fixed on his lips. The hallway was still full of people meandering about in the few minutes remaining before the first bell announced the start of the school day, so he didn’t immediately see the person who called out to him though he instantly recognized her voice.
“Hi, Tyrell.”
Tyrell pulled to a sharp halt and snapped his head around to meet Shaunteé’s pretty hazel eyes. She smiled at him, and his stomach flipped as it always did. She was standing with several other girls from the dance squad. Usually he would have avoided such a large gathering of women, but he wasn’t about to ignore her when she’d addressed him directly. He was still embarrassed at having done just that in the cafeteria the first day Cynthia had kidnapped Jeremy to eat lunch with them, but he’d been confused in the head. Now that he’d reconciled his relationship with Jeremy, he was back on completely solid footing.
“Hey,” Tyrell shot back. “What’s up? You look nice today,” he added for good measure.
Shaunteé preened under his attention as her friends tittered. “You think? That’s sweet of you.”
She was wearing a green short-sleeved sweater with a scooped neckline that revealed the very top of her cleavage. The material was thin, and Tyrell imagined that he could see beneath it, though in the very next moment he was ashamed of himself. What would Big Momma say if she’d known what he was thinking right then, let alone his mother? Tyrell shivered inwardly, though he never let his smile waver. He did, however, make sure his gaze didn’t stray below Shaunteé’s chin.
“You know Nicole Martin? She’s in my homeroom.”
Tyrell nodded, vaguely remembering one of the girls Shaunteé usually hung with. Nicole was on the girls’ basketball team and, even though she wasn’t on the dance squad, she’d been adopted by the squad’s members because she was tall, willowy, and extremely attractive. “Yeah, I know her,” he answered.
“Nicole’s having her Sweet Sixteen birthday party two weeks from Saturday.” Shaunteé glanced up at Tyrell from beneath her lashes. “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?”
As my date. The words came through loud and clear, though they remained unspoken. Tyrell knew he looked like an idiot standing there with his jaw on the floor, but he could hardly believe it. Shaunteé Dubois, the hottest girl in school, had asked him out to a party. This wasn’t merely some sporting event at a different school like the Kendall game. Nicole Martin was super popular in her own right, and all of Winton Yowell’s elite would be there. The fact that Shaunteé was willing to be seen with him at such an important affair meant she was really into him. You’ve arrived, son! Tyrell fought to contain his glee in an effort to maintain an air of nonchalance.
“Yeah, if you want. That’s cool.” Tyrell thought he sounded acceptably indifferent to her invitation.
Shaunteé’s friends beamed at him, but she merely nodded as though she’d never been in doubt of his answer. “Great! I’ll let you know the details once I hear back from Nicole.” The bell rang, signaling the end of all nonacademic social interaction for the next fifty minutes. Shaunteé turned to join her departing entourage, but looked back at him with a flirtatious smile as she walked away. “See you later.”
“Later,” Tyrell responded calmly, although inside he was jumping for joy. Damn, what an awesome day he was having, and it was only eight in the morning! He watched Shaunteé for a moment, or rather, he stared at her ass as she sashayed down the hall before turning to find his own classroom. He stopped to let a girl pass in front of him and looked to his left to make sure the coast was clear enough for him to cross, when he suddenly froze in his tracks.
Jeremy was standing motionless in the corridor about a yard away in the direction of the stairwell. Tyrell wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but he suspected Jeremy had witnessed most if not all of his exchange with Shaunteé. His first thought was so what? What did it matter if Jeremy had been watching? He’d probably been planning to say good morning but was waiting politely until Tyrell had finished his conversation. Tyrell raised a hand in greeting and opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat when Jeremy spun away after giving him a perfunctory dip of the head.
The hallway was still pretty crowded and echoed with the noise of students rushing to class. He probably wouldn’t have heard Jeremy if he had said something, as Jeremy was undoubtedly aware. So why was his stomach suddenly rolling with queasy dismay? Because no matter what he wanted to tell himself, the profound sadness in Jeremy’s pretty green eyes had been unmistakable.
What in the hell was that about? Tyrell had no answers as he stood frozen in the middle of the floor.
“ONE, TWO, three. Two, two, three.”
The entire low brass section exploded into the dark, heavy opening strains of the “Infernal Dance” from Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite. Mr. Crabtree had sprung the piece on them as a surprise. Everyone had been delighted, especially Tina, who was currently pounding away on the tympani drum like she’d died and gone to heaven.
Jeremy was pleased at the selection, though for a far different reason. The oppressive atmosphere of the piece fit his mood perfectly. He still couldn’t believe he’d been such an idiot.
He’d spent all of Wednesday and most of today avoiding Tyrell as best he could while trying to hide the fact that he was doing so. Yesterday in homeroom, he’d buried himself in a textbook, giving Tyrell only the barest greeting, though by the end of the period, he’d had no idea what he’d read. During lunch he’d tried to act normal while eating with everyone, although he spent the entire hour deliberately speaking only to Cynthia. Today he’d
resorted to the same strategy, and by the end of the lunch period, Tyrell was staring at him like he’d lost his mind.
Jeremy didn’t blame him. After the friendly note they’d ended on following Tuesday’s rehearsal, Tyrell was probably totally confused by Jeremy’s abrupt about-face. Jeremy was just grateful band was their only interaction outside of homeroom and lunch. Since practice was held only on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, he’d had nearly two days to get his act together without having to deal with Tyrell one-on-one. Not that he’d progressed very far in his attempt to accept that his growing feelings for Tyrell were doomed to remain unrequited. Even now, he was studiously avoiding looking toward the percussion section, telling himself that he needed to concentrate on the sheet music since he’d never played the piece before. Too bad the clarinet section didn’t play for the first nine measures, which happened to be the part Mr. Crabtree was currently drilling.
Jeremy gritted his teeth and scolded himself to get a grip as the memory of the scene he’d witnessed the previous morning played over and over in his head. Of course Tyrell had accepted that girl’s offer to go on a date, as her party invitation was clearly a cover for. Even he thought she was extremely pretty, her light brown skin smooth and her hazel eyes striking beneath an expertly applied layer of subtle makeup. She’d worn her braided hair caught up in a clip high on her head so the rest of it cascaded artfully down her back, and her sweater and short skirt had hugged her trim yet curvy figure perfectly. Jeremy had fought down the intense urge to label her a skank, knowing it was an unfair assessment no matter how tight the girl wore her clothes.
He was jealous, plain and simple, which was why he was cursing himself so profusely. Tyrell was straight. He’d never given Jeremy a reason to doubt that simple fact, no matter how friendly he’d been after rehearsal the other day. Sure they could be friends, but that would be the extent of their relationship. Jeremy would be a fool to think otherwise.
