by Kata Čuić
“No, it wasn’t. Jim should’ve had it.” Not an ounce of guilt materializes from saying that to Nate’s face. It’s just a fact.
“Yeah …” He sighs. “He thought you should have it.”
“No.” I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest. “He thought he could trick me into falling in love with him by giving me what he thought I wanted the most.”
“Head drum major isn’t what you wanted most?” Nate sounds genuinely perplexed by that idea.
“I wanted it the right way,” I clarify. “Because I deserved it. Because I earned it. Not because you guys threw the vote.”
“If it makes you feel any better, there were some people we couldn’t convince.” Tim takes the seat on my other side.
“No, that does not make me feel better. That only proves my point. I shouldn’t be head drum major. And if you were all in on it, why did you even come up with campaign ideas? Why lie to my face about it all?”
Tim slouches in his seat, his confidence taking a literal dive. “Because … Jimbo knew you’d be mad if it wasn’t a fair competition.”
“Well, I guess Jim just knows everything about me, doesn’t he?” If I put any more sarcasm into my tone, I’ll probably spontaneously combust.
“Yeah.” A shadow of towering male falls over me. “I do.”
There’s nowhere for me to run when he crouches down in front of me. The best I can do is turn my head to the side, so I don’t have to meet his gaze.
“I know you’re fucking stubborn to a fault. More competitive than a professional football player. Driven to succeed like no one else I’ve ever known. And you hated my fucking guts. So, yeah. I knew there was no way I could convince you to take this.” Jim pauses his tirade to breathe. “But since I just recently found out how much you live for everyone else, except yourself, I’m not even going to tell you the reasons why I convinced the band this was the best course of action. Because the one thing you’ve always owned is your hatred of me, and I’m not about to take that away from you when it’s the only thing you do for yourself.”
He straightens then stalks away, sitting on the opposite side of the band room by himself. Until Jake and Shannon join him.
I can’t believe it. She’s taking his side this time.
“I’m going to quit.” The statement pours out like uncontrollable vomit that can’t be choked down. I squeeze my eyes shut. Saying it aloud gives them a chance to talk me out of quitting, and that’s not my intention.
“Yeah. Me, too.”
I open my eyes to find Emily’s sad face staring back at me. She’s supposed to try to earn her spot back tonight, but instead, I’ve just given her a good reason not to even bother.
With Tim’s and Nate’s eyes on me, I paste on the brightest smile I can possibly manage while my heart cracks open in my chest. “Did you find out you’re gluten-intolerant, too?”
Emily’s face scrunches in confusion. “Um, no. I don’t think so. I meant, I’m going to quit band.”
“Oh. I meant, I’m going to quit eating pasta.” I thumb in turn at each of the guys flanking me. “They’re getting grossed out by how gassy I am, so I promised them I would quit doing things I know are going to come back to haunt me—and them—later.”
A month ago, I could not have imagined voluntarily saying something so embarrassing, but that off-the-cuff remark is totally worth it. Emily stifles a laugh as much as Nate and Tim do.
“You should quit, too,” I suggest, much to everyone’s surprise. “Quit trying to talk yourself out of something you love so much. So, you lost your spot last week. Who cares? You’re still in the band. You might win it back tonight, or you might not. Who cares? You’re still in the band, and as long as you’re a Marching Miner, you might get that spot back. But if you quit now, you never will.”
“I know.” She shuffles her feet a bit and gazes at the ground. “It’s just so hard. I practiced all week, and I don’t even know if it’s going to be worth it.”
I tip my head in acknowledgment. “It’s worth it because you worked so hard. And if you didn’t love band, you wouldn’t have even done that much. You would have already given up. That’s how I know you’re not going to quit now.”
She lifts her gaze. Her expression is only a little less beat down, but it’s an improvement. “I guess you’re right. If I don’t get my spot back tonight, then I’ll work even harder next week.” Her grin is full of self-deprecation. “This is the part where you tell me not giving up and working as hard as I have to will make winning my spot back even more worth it, right?”
“Right.” I nod, preparing to take my own advice and wishing Jim could understand this is exactly why I’m so upset about his actions. I didn’t get to work hard enough to make this worthwhile. They didn’t believe I could.
Emily nods then finds a seat with the other trumpet rookies.
“You’re not going to quit,” Tim states.
“You know who I think deserves to be head drum major?” Nate’s stare bores into me. “You.”
Not yet I don’t. But starting tonight, I will.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The rookies are a chattering ball of excitement as we wait in line with our arms linked to get into the ITK party.
“I’m so glad it’s not an open party tonight,” a freshman flute confesses. “Last week was so overwhelming. There were too many people, and I didn’t know most of them.”
“Tonight’s party is only open to other band members,” I reassure her. “So, you won’t have to worry about randos from all over campus, and it’ll be a good opportunity to meet some upperclassmen bandies you haven’t had a chance to get to know yet.”
Emily sulks beside me. “I know you only dragged me here to cheer me up, so you can’t get mad when I get shit-faced in less than an hour.”
“You’re right. I did drag you here to cheer you up. Maybe once you make friends with more of your section in a chill environment, you’ll quit looking at them as the competition whose only goal is to beat you. And if you want to get drunk, then I’ll make sure you get back to your dorm safely.”
She doesn’t know how good she has it. I would never dream of telling her she shouldn’t be upset for not winning her spot back, but Sarah won’t ever get the opportunity to even attend a party like this, much less get drunk if she wants to. Convincing this group of shyer freshmen women to come to the party is another way of making sure they live their fullest lives. And with them under my wings, maybe I can teach them how not to make the mistakes I did. They’ll learn how to have fun without going too crazy and always know someone is in their corner if they need help climbing out of a hole they’ve dug for themselves.
Jared is on door duty again. I’m not sure if this is punishment for what he did to me or if he actually just likes doing it. His bland expression makes me think it’s the former. He passes out candy necklaces to all of us.
“I thought the Suck me/Eat me party was on Valentine’s Day?”
“It is.” He motions for the girls to go in. “There’s always a theme for band-only parties, so we reuse some of them at random.”
“And whose idea was it for Suck me/Eat me tonight?” This just reeks of Jimbo’s deviousness.
Jared scratches his chin and genuinely seems to think about it. “Shannon’s actually.” He returns his gaze to the line behind me and shakes his head. “I don’t know why. It’s not like she and Jake aren’t plastered to each other’s faces all the time anyway. They don’t need an excuse for PDA.”
He’s not wrong. Only I think it’s cute, whereas he obviously thinks it’s disgusting. Maybe he’s just jealous he doesn’t have anyone plastered to him. Maybe if he didn’t spike unsuspecting women’s drinks, he would.
My rookies are grouped just inside the basement, waiting for me to rejoin them.
“You can go in all the way, you know. We’re all bandies here. No one is going to mess with you.” Mostly because I’ll be keeping a close eye on Jared for the rest of the ni
ght.
A saxophone with bright red hair smiles. “We know, but it makes us look cooler if we walk in with the head drum major.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Oh, so that’s your angle, huh? I feel so used.”
They laugh, too. A little self-deprecation and embarrassment are good for more than just my own soul, it turns out.
I lead them toward the bar. If anyone asks, I’m not condoning underage drinking, but if they’re going to do it anyway, I’d rather they do it in a safer environment than a random campus party where they don’t know anyone.
“Well, this is the best-looking group of ladies I’ve seen so far tonight.” Jim smiles and leans his arms on the bar. Because, of course, he’s working the bar.
My rookies giggle at his flattery, and I don’t blame them. He might be a raging asshole of epic proportions, but he’s still a sexy-as-sin raging asshole. All tight-fitted T-shirt, bulging biceps, and charming smile. The scruff has fully grown into a close-cropped beard, too. Stupidly sexy asshole.
He points to the candy necklace still clutched in my hand then motions to where he’s wearing his around his neck. I roll my eyes. I know what I’m supposed to do with it.
The women are eager to please, so they immediately don their necklaces.
“Here are the rules,” he explains. “If you want someone to have a piece of candy, you tell them, Eat me. If a guy wants you to have a piece of his candy, he’ll say, Suck me. They are allowed to say no, and you are allowed to decline. No one is permitted to take your candy without asking first, and vice versa. One infraction gets your necklace taken away, and a second infraction gets you escorted out of the party. Any questions?”
Oh. I see the rationale of doing the themes during band-only parties. It’s a way to teach the rookies the rules on a safer playing field than an open party.
My group shakes their heads. They understand.
“So, what’ll you ladies have?”
By the way they turn to me with wide eyes, I’m guessing none of them have ever walked on the wild side like I did in high school. Jim is standing in front of a fully stocked bar. They have no idea what to have.
“If you don’t like the taste of alcohol, or you’ve never tried it before, go with something easy like beer or bandie juice. If you’re feeling more adventurous, try a mixed drink,” I advise. “I personally like whiskey and cola, but it’s your choice.”
Jim hands me my special cup, already filled. I take a healthy gulp to prove to them he can be trusted. He might do stupid shit to me, but he’d never endanger any of our bandies.
“We don’t have to pay for our drinks?” Emily asks.
“Nope.” Jim smiles his most reassuring smile. “We have a cover charge on open party nights. That’s how we can afford an open bar for band-only parties. For the rest of the night, everything is on the ITK house.”
“What if we don’t like the drink we pick at first?” the cymbal player asks.
“No problem. Bring it back, and I’ll make you something else until we find what you like. If you don’t want to drink, or you decide you don’t like anything, we have bottled water, too.”
They place a variety of orders, and Jim serves them up with ease. Only one drink is exchanged for something else after tentative first sips.
Jim points to the sax chugging bandie juice like it’s Kool-Aid. “Be careful with that. Don’t drink too much, too fast. It tastes like juice, but it packs a punch. You’ll be drunk before you know it.”
Emily glances at me. “You said you’d make sure we all get back to the dorms safely.”
I nod. “I will.”
“If anyone wants to leave early, just let me know. I can escort you back to the dorms, too.”
As sexy as Jim is, these women aren’t stupid. Safety 101: never go anywhere alone with a man when you’re intoxicated unless you trust him completely or are looking for an actual hook-up.
They exchange nervous glances.
“Any female ITK brother can walk you home if you don’t feel comfortable asking me or Jimbo to leave early.” I point out all the women and give their names. “We will not let you drink until you get sick. We’ll cut you off before that happens. And if you decide you want to crash here, that’s fine, too. There are plenty of couches, and Jimbo’s bed is comfy. It could probably fit at least four of you.” I offer up his room with a sinister grin.
Of course, that backfires because they all smirk and snicker since I would obviously only know that if I’d already slept in it myself.
“I even washed the sheets today,” Jim adds helpfully. “You’re more than welcome to stay if you don’t want to go back to the dorms.”
They all nod. Unlike in years past, none of them implies that they’d like to sleep with Jim in his bed. Because they all think we’re together.
A crowd is forming around the bar, waiting their turns, so Jim offers them one last piece of advice. “Listen for the sectional shots. Even if you don’t want to do a shot, come to the bar when it’s time, so you can learn the chants and be with your section. Sophia can explain anything else you want to know.”
That’s our cue to leave.
“All right, ladies, time to hit the dance floor!”
They follow where I lead for the rest of the night. Dancing, beer pong, more drinks, cards upstairs in the kitchen. A few of them find their sea legs and wander off to try dirty-dancing with a new crush. Some break off from the larger group to challenge upperclassmen members of their section at beer pong. They take their turns for sectional shots, grinning like pros if they manage to down the shot without sputtering. They’re full of questions, and thanks to Jim’s private initiation, I have most of the answers.
There’s no way I’m getting drunk when I’m responsible for them all, and every time I escort them to the bar for a new drink, Jim refills my cup with water without me even having to ask.
By the early hours of the morning, the party is winding down, and all my rookies have reached a consensus to head back to the dorms. We’re making sure everyone is accounted for at the doorway before trudging to campus.
“Thank you so much for dragging me here!” Emily slurs a little, but she’s not nearly as drunk as she thought she’d get. She had enough fun tonight that the rejection of not winning her spot back doesn’t sting quite as much. She even had enough liquid courage to ask several upperclassmen trumpets how she could improve for next week. “I had so much fun, Soph!”
“No one’s gonna crash in my bed? Really?” Jim steps up beside me with a wide smile and a drink in hand. His shift at the bar is over, and now, he can relax for the night.
The women giggle, but it’s the cymbal player who speaks up with a roll of her eyes, “Sophia’s gonna come back here and crash in your bed, duh. We’re not going to break up that party.”
Everyone laughs. Including Jim. Except me.
“But we can’t wait to come back for next week’s party!” the sax player adds.
Jim leans down to nibble a piece of candy off my untouched necklace. “This,” he murmurs against my skin. “This is why I did it.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
It’s three o’clock in the morning, but he’s not in bed. His face is a silhouette in blue light from the television. The television that’s playing a repeat of last week’s Orlando Sharks football game.
I close the front door behind me. It wasn’t locked, and I didn’t knock. “Do you watch your brother’s games in secret?”
The remote control dances as he tries to quickly turn off the evidence. “No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mmhmm.” Fine. I’ll let him keep this to himself. It’s not like I don’t already know how much he loves his brother.
Surprisingly, the living room is empty, except for Jim. Unlike the last party, bodies aren’t sprawled all over the couches. Everyone else must have decided to head back to their own places, too.
I take a seat on the other couch. “I thought you didn’t want to tell me y
our reasons for doing what you did.”
He finally manages to turn off the television, and the room blankets us in darkness, except for the streetlight that filters in through the front windows. “I didn’t. But I also want you to see the difference you make in your position.”
“Their section leaders could have just as easily done for them what I did tonight.”
“Not all of them have female section leaders,” he points out. “You saw how they reacted to my offer to escort them home tonight. College can be a dangerous place. They’re smart. They’re not going to take help from a man they don’t really know yet.”
I nod even though he probably can’t see me. He’s not wrong. It’s the whole reason foundations like Sing Out exist in the first place.
“You didn’t think I would understand—or agree with—your idea to give the young women in band a strong female role model? Why?”
“Because you love to argue anything I say. You just did. You said their section leaders could have done for them what you did.”
That valid point aside, I’m not buying it. “Why, James? When it all came out in the wash, you didn’t even want to tell me the reason.”
“Because I didn’t know until I met Sarah how much you live your life for everyone, except yourself, okay?” He raises his voice but has enough courtesy for his sleeping housemates to keep it to a whisper-shout. “I’ve been a selfish enough bastard when it comes to you. I didn’t want to pile more martyrdom on your shoulders. I get it. Boy, do I get it. Band is your thing. Sure, you might do it because it’s one more experience Sarah will never have. But wanting head drum major? That was maybe the one thing in your life you’ve ever done for yourself. And I wasn’t about to confess my latest sin and make this about you putting others before yourself again.”
“You were the one thing I did for myself,” I murmur, sadness washing over me. “You were a risk with no guaranteed reward. In fact, our shared history was proof of just how much risk I was willing to take on. I dated John for nearly a year before he was ever allowed to meet Sarah. Even making head drum major was for her in a way because it’s just one more thing she’ll never get to try to do. One more way to make her and my parents proud of me. One more gold star on my résumé of being a qualified caretaker.” I rise from the couch. There’s really nothing left to say, but I didn’t want to leave his betrayals unanswered. I guess I’ll always compete with him. “You were mine, but the risk didn’t pay off.”
