Drum Roll, Please

by Lisa Jenn Bigelow

  Adeline nodded. “I get it. You’re so high up, and you’re supposed to just fall headfirst into the water?”

  “Yes! Exactly.”

  “I hear you,” she said. “You know, I could teach you to dive, if you’d let me. And there’s no diving board to worry about.”

  My stomach twisted. At the thought of diving? At the thought of Adeline teaching me? “It’s okay. This is your free time.”

  “Exactly. It’s my free time. I can spend it how I want.”

  “But why would you want to spend it teaching me, when you could be having fun?”

  “Who says it won’t be fun?” Adeline said. “Melly, if you learn to dive today, then the rest of your time at Camp Rockaway, the rest of your life, you’ll be able to dive whenever you want. You’ll never have to say ‘I can’t dive’ again. Please, trust me.”

  Didn’t she get that it was myself I didn’t trust? Adeline radiated confidence like sunshine. I was a black hole. I could suck up a million worries and have room for more.

  Still, I didn’t want to say no. “I trust you,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

  “Great!” Adeline’s grin grew so wide it threatened to grab her ears. “But it’s too wild on the raft. Let’s swim back to the dock. I’ll let the lifeguards know we need space for a lesson.”

  Over on the dock, Adeline made me sit on the edge, legs dangling in the water, while she positioned my arms. “Lean forward now,” she said, pressing between my shoulder blades. “Farther—farther—”

  Fear choked me. Suddenly I was leaning too far over the water to stay on the dock. Plunk—I fell into the water.

  “You did it!” Adeline cheered as I came up sputtering. “Your first dive.”

  “That hardly counts.” I pulled myself back onto the slippery white dock.

  “Wrong. Every little step counts. You didn’t learn to play drums in a day, did you? Now, ready to graduate to kneeling?” she said hopefully.

  “Absolutely not.”

  I tried another sitting dive. My heart seized up as I leaned closer and closer to the water, but I realized something strangely good: the farther I leaned, the shorter the distance I had to fall.

  I forgot to worry whether the other campers were watching. After every dive, Adeline gave me advice and asked if I was ready to try the next step. Eventually I felt ready to try a kneeling dive, and when I’d done okay with that, I agreed maybe I could try to dive standing up. Adeline showed me how to stand with my toes curled over the edge of the dock, my knees springy, my chin tucked. By now I felt confident enough to push off without prompting—

  —and hit the water with a smack.

  My body exploded with pain. The wind was knocked out of me. Tears stung my eyes. I hurt so much, I barely knew which way was up.

  “Are you okay?” Adeline called.

  I nodded, chin wobbling, and swam for the ladder. My thighs were covered with a bright red rash. How was it one moment your body could cut through the water like it was butter, and the next hit it like it was a brick wall?

  “Take a breather,” Adeline said. She disappeared down the dock and returned a minute later with her water bottle. She sat beside me and handed me the bottle. I took a grateful sip.

  “You okay?” she asked again.

  I nodded. My heart rate was returning to normal.

  “Good. I know you’re a percussionist, but maybe that was taking it a little too far.”

  It was a laugh-or-cry moment. I chose to laugh. “How was my sound?”

  “A little flat.” Adeline laughed with me. “You poor thing! That may be the worst belly flop I’ve ever seen.”

  “Don’t you mean the best?” I said. “Give me some credit. That took talent.”

  “You’re a natural,” she agreed. “But you’re supposed to be learning how to dive. Next time, try not to aim so far out. Deeper is better until you get more used to it.”

  “Next time?” I said in mock horror.

  “You know you want to.”

  The crazy thing was I did.

  “Come on,” Adeline said, holding her hands out to me, “back on the horse.”

  “Great. You didn’t tell me horses would be involved. You realize I’ve never ridden.”

  “You can save that adventure for another day. For now, imagine going to dinner and Olivia asking what you’ve done today. You can tell her you did a real dive.”

  I imagined doing just that. Would Olivia be proud? Jealous? Would she even care? I didn’t know anymore. But I set down the water bottle and let Adeline help me up. “If I belly flop again, I’m done,” I said.

  I didn’t, though. Adeline moved my arms and legs into position. I bent my knees, leaned forward, and aimed. I took one deep breath, then another. And when I was ready, I pushed off.

  Water rushed past my ears, slid smoothly past my legs. I gave a few kicks underwater, then let myself drift back to the surface. When I emerged, it wasn’t just Adeline cheering for me. It was the lifeguards. It was the kids on the raft. They were applauding as if I’d just finished playing the drum solo of my life.

  Back on the dock, Adeline threw her arms around me and said, “I knew you could do it.”

  “It was still scary,” I said. Even now, my knees were shaking.

  Adeline held me by the shoulders. I felt a glow even warmer than the sun. “All the awesomest things are.”

  Fourteen

  That night we built a campfire in Treble Cliff, and I had my first honest-to-goodness s’more. The fire snapped and popped like a bowl of Rice Krispies. It filled the cool air with the scent of burning pine and sassafras. I patiently toasted my marshmallow until it was puffy and brown, ignoring Toni waving hers around like a torch. When she squished hers between her graham crackers, the insides burst through the charred skin, gooey and white, and when she bit down half of it ended up on her face. I laughed, until the same thing happened to me.

  I guess some things are messy no matter what.

  Olivia had been oddly quiet all evening. I’d have thought she’d be bubbling over from another afternoon spent with Noel, but instead she seemed distracted, staring into the dark spaces between the trees. It wasn’t until the four of us were tucked into our tent that she said, “Shauna? Toni? Can I ask you a question?”

  I felt a stab in my gut. What could she ask Shauna and Toni that she couldn’t ask me? Then I realized how silly that sounded. When it came to Camp Rockaway, there were thousands of things Shauna and Toni knew better than I did.

  “Go for it,” Shauna told Olivia.

  “It’s about Sunday,” she said.

  “Sunday?” I interrupted.

  “Field trip day,” Toni said. “Second Sunday, we get in a van and go somewhere.”

  “Where?” We were in the middle of nowhere. Would it be one of those survival expeditions, where you got pushed out of a helicopter in the wilderness with nothing but a backpack and had to find your way back to camp?

  “They like to keep it a surprise,” Shauna said. “One year we went to Silver Lake and rode dune buggies. Another time it was speedboat rides on Grand Traverse Bay.”

  “One day of vacation, then back to the grind Monday morning,” Toni said.

  “Anyway,” Olivia said, “I heard everyone’s got to have a buddy. Someone they stick with for the entire day.”

  “Right,” Shauna said. “Damon gets anxious about safety when we’re off-site.”

  “So, what I’m wondering is do you think it would be weird if I asked Noel?”

  A trapdoor opened inside me, and my stomach dropped through. Olivia and Noel—buddies? It was one thing for her to jam with him and his friends for a couple of hours every afternoon, but she was talking about spending a whole day with him, one on one. It was different. It was the kind of thing she should be doing with me.

  Toni said, “You know, I had a hunch you were crushing on him!”

  “Was it totally obvious?”

  “There had to be some reason you’d spend all your free time
playing—what was it?—the musical equivalent of stale bran muffins.” Toni cackled.

  “And now you want to be his field trip buddy,” Shauna said. “That’s intense. Not that you shouldn’t do it. It’s the twenty-first century. You want him to be your buddy, ask him.”

  “Question answered. It would be weird.” Olivia groaned. “We hang out every day, but we’re always playing music. I know how he plays. I want to get to know him.”

  “That makes sense,” said Shauna. “And it wouldn’t be weird, exactly. Most people buddy up with friends from their unit or their band, and Noel’s in your band, so . . .”

  “Besides, men like a bold woman,” Toni said. “You want him, go get him!”

  “What do you think, Melly?” Olivia asked. “Should I do it?”

  “I don’t know!” I said. I sounded whiny, and I hated it. But what was I supposed to say—Sure, what’s one more day at camp you’d rather spend with him than me?

  “I mean, will you be okay if I do?” she said. “Because if—”

  “Yes!” I said, pulling my pillow over my head. “I’ll be fine. Go ahead. Ask him.”

  “But who will be your buddy?”

  “I’ll find someone,” I said. “I have other friends, you know.”

  “Right,” Olivia said in an injured voice. “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t.”

  “Maybe you could double-buddy,” Shauna suggested. “Who’s that other guy in your band, Olivia? If Melly buddies up with him, you’ll still be together, and if things don’t go well with Noel—”

  “Not that she’s saying they won’t,” Toni said.

  “I’d never wish Brick on Melly,” said Olivia.

  “Or what about that boy in your band, Melly?” suggested Toni. “The quiet one, with the hair that’s always in his eyes? He’s cute.”

  “David?” I said incredulously. “I don’t think he’s said a single word to me all week. Even if I wanted to ask him, there’s no way he’d say yes. Seriously, everyone, I’ll figure it out.”

  They left me alone after that, but I stayed awake and annoyed for a long time. Maybe I wasn’t bold the way my friends were, but I wasn’t helpless, either. Today I’d overcome my fear of diving. Who knew what I’d do next?

  There had been a moment, earlier, when the campfire died low, barely more than embers. Blair had knelt and blown gently on them until flames once again licked over the wood. That’s me, I thought. There’s something inside me, glowing, waiting to grow. It just needs a little air.

  Friday morning, Caleb brought charts for a song called “Pulse of the Maggots.” Its title was enough to turn my stomach, but it turned out the song wasn’t about literal fly larvae. The lyrics were a little confusing, but as near as I could figure, they were about standing strong and being true to yourself. The question was if anyone would be able to understand them through all the distortion and yelling. Listening to the recording Caleb had downloaded at the library, we walked through the same process as we had for every other song so far.

  Donna must not have slept well. Now that we could make it through our first four songs on our own, more or less, she sometimes let her guitar slump against the wall next to her, and she’d stop singing to listen to what we were doing. She praised our progress one moment and yelled at us to focus the next.

  Finally she waved her arms in the air. “Stop, stop. For the love of Chuck Berry, stop.”

  We stopped. Our faces were flushed and frustrated, sweat beading our skin. David looked like a mop in need of wringing. Caleb’s bushy blond hair stuck to his forehead. My own was matted against my neck. I envied Adeline her braids, but even she was fanning herself with her music folder.

  “Listen,” Donna said, “you’ve been playing together long enough that you’re starting to get comfortable with each other. You’re relaxing. That’s good. But you’re also getting lazy. You’re not listening to each other.”

  She pushed open the door, and a blast of warm, muggy air entered the cabin. “Take five. Drink some water. Stretch your legs. Come back ready to focus. David and Melly—a word.”

  She tipped her head at us and frowned. My stomach flip-flopped. I imagined her telling me I was demoted to one of the little kids’ bands. “Listen,” she said. She touched us each on the shoulder. “Look up, okay? Eyes on me.”

  Bracing myself, I looked into her stern eyes. Beside me, David slowly wiped his hair back behind his ears. “Now,” Donna said, “look at each other.”

  David and I turned slowly toward each other. I found myself staring at the top of his head. His chin had dipped again. I wasn’t sure if his eyes were on my chest or on my feet, but they definitely weren’t on my face. When we were playing, I was sitting down and he stood beside me, so of course he was taller. Now I was taller by half a head.

  “David!” Donna said. “Chin up. Eyes on Melly’s. No, Melly, don’t look away. This. This is your number one problem. You are both perfectly fine musicians. Keep practicing, and you’ll get better and better. But that’s an individual thing. What is holding you back as a band is communication. You two are the rhythm section. David, tell me the job of the rhythm section.”

  “To hold the beat down for the whole band,” he muttered.

  “Exactly. You’re the foundation. You’re the mortar. Everyone else depends on you to hold things together. But you can’t do that if what, Melly?”

  “If we don’t communicate,” I said. It was clearly what she wanted to hear.

  “Right. Now is either of you a telepath? A mind reader? Obviously not, or we wouldn’t be having problems. So tell me, how can you communicate?”

  “With our eyes,” I said, thinking of the signals I shared with Olivia, “and faces.”

  “Or our hands,” David said with a sigh.

  “Or if all else fails, your voices,” Donna said. “In a performance situation, if you need to say something to each other to prevent a train wreck, do it! Better a moment’s distraction than a total disaster. Got it?”

  We nodded.

  “Okay. Lecture over. Now, as your instructor, it is my privilege to assign extra homework to students I think need it. Here’s yours: I want you two to meet up every day outside of band practice. You don’t have to play together, though of course that’s not a terrible idea. But I want you to find a quiet place and practice making eye contact. Five minutes minimum.”

  “You want us to look each other in the eyes,” David said. “For homework.”

  Donna frowned. “I really thought we were speaking the same language here.”

  “It sounds weird,” I said. Actually, it sounded terrible.

  “It will be weird,” she said. “It will also make you a better rhythm section. And if I’m not mistaken, that’s one of your goals at Camp Rockaway. Right or wrong?”

  “Right,” David and I mumbled.

  “Great. Start today.”

  “Do you want us to report back to you?” I asked.

  “No need,” Donna said. “If you get better, I’ll know you’ve been doing it. If you haven’t—well, then maybe I’ll have to sit in on your sessions.”

  Her words managed to sound immensely threatening. Donna bared her teeth in a sharklike smile. “I’ve used up your break. Go take one now. See you in five.”

  I grabbed my water bottle and left the cabin. If I hadn’t needed a break before, I sure did now. Adeline was leaning against a tree. She waved to me, and I joined her.

  “Can I be totally nosy and ask what Donna wanted with you and David?” she asked.

  I sighed. “She wants us to stare at each other. To practice our communication skills.”

  Adeline looked at me like I was crazy, and I couldn’t blame her. I kept a straight face for as long as I could. Then we both burst out laughing. “I know. It’s bizarre.”

  “Yeah,” said Adeline, “but so is the way David acts around you.”

  “Standoffish,” I said. “That’s the word my mom would use.”

  “I don’t thin
k it’s that,” she said. “Not on purpose, anyway. I think he’s just shy.”

  “Well, it’s not like I’ve ever given him a reason to be afraid of me.”

  “Except for being a girl.”

  “If he’s terrified of half the world’s population, he’s not going to get very far in life.”

  “A cute girl,” Adeline said. “A cute drummer girl.”

  “Ugh,” I said. “Not you, too. Trust me, David and I are not going to happen.”

  “Then I shall never speak of it again.”

  “Do you really think I’m cute?” I blurted. Between the two of us, Olivia was always the one who got boys’ attention. My parents told me I was beautiful, but that was the kind of thing parents did. I never actually believed them.

  “Better than cute,” Adeline said. “You’re adorable.”

  Judging by the heat that suddenly rushed through my face, I turned approximately as red as a fire engine. Why had she said that? She didn’t need to say that. “Adorable. Right.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head. Nothing’s less adorable than a big head.” She winked.

  I exhaled. Somehow it was easier—though a little disappointing, too—knowing she’d been kidding. “What about pus?” I asked. “Surely pus is even less adorable than a big head.”

  Adeline laughed. “Well, maybe a little.”

  “And what about raw sewage? What about ingrown hairs and toxic waste?”

  “I take it all back. You are foul, disgusting, and definitely not adorable.”

  “Phew,” I said. “Because seriously, I don’t want David getting any ideas.”

  David and I met at the lodge after B-flat. He had his bass, and I had my sticks, to practice after we were done. Separately, of course. Heaven forbid we should play together if we didn’t have to.

  The stalls were the most private place we could think of. But I wished we’d chosen somewhere more public, even if other kids did look at us funny. The walls were too close. He was too close. And after what Adeline had said that morning, about David maybe liking me, I was feeling standoffish myself. “Let’s get this over with,” I said.