I suddenly wish Evita and Theo were here. It’s going to be hard to even wait to show Theo until tomorrow afternoon.
I text Evita.
Project quartet is complete!
Yes!!!!!!! I want to hear it!
I email the MIDI file and text her to check her inbox.
This is like epic fantasy movie shit. Like a theme for a gladiator and his elven princess girlfriend
I love that she clearly dropped everything to hop on her laptop and listen.
You’re not waiting a whole week to give this to him, are you?
No way. Tomorrow during quartet. Also, Mom is fully on board with the condom demonstration.
Of course she is! Because you have never been more of a badass … except maybe that time you wrote some epic film score for your best friend’s birthday.
I grin. Tomorrow cannot get here fast enough.
Honestly, I might see if I can’t bring my own independent study from the library to the orchestra room
She also has an independent study last period, but hers is dedicated to running the Gender and Sexuality Alliance. She’s done a lot as the GSA’s president. She’s organized field trips to pride events. She’s booked speakers for our monthly meetings and she’s contacted presidents of high school GSAs all over the country. Nothing would ever overtake music as Evita’s greatest passion, but she pours a lot of love into the GSA as well.
That might tip him off
Fine. Somehow you have to take a picture of his face, though.
I run my fingers over the black notes on the crisp white pages and wonder if I should wrap the music and make him open it. But something about that seems silly and frivolous in a way that Theo would surely appreciate, but that Lily Ann would not. If I want our quartet to actually work on this, I have to introduce it more like a project for all of us and less like an inside joke with Theo. Still, I doodle birthday balloons on the printout of the cello part. The balloons look embarrassingly spermlike. Maybe that’s the condom research getting to me.
Seven
The next day, I’m walking to lunch with Evita when this girl Victoria stops me in the hall. I’ve had a few classes with Victoria, including senior seminar. She’s standing in the hall with her friend Hailey. The way she sort of jumps toward me from where she was leaning on her locker makes me feel like they were just standing there waiting for me. Both of them hang with the popular crowd. I wish I weren’t like this, but that fact makes me nervous to be around them and I fight the urge to smooth my hair, which is always futile.
“Lacey, we were wondering if we could talk,” Victoria says.
Hailey nods. “Maybe in the bathroom?”
“Oh.” I’m taken aback. “Sure.”
In the bathroom, Victoria looks under the stall doors to make sure no one is listening. It feels very cloak-and-dagger.
Evita asks them, “You’re not about to give my girl a beatdown or something, are you? Cuz you will definitely have to go through me.”
Victoria waves her off and looks at me. “Okay, so you know all about this stuff, right? Like condoms and sex and stuff?” she asks.
“Well…,” I say.
“She does. Yes. Give yourself some credit!” Evita says to me.
“But your demonstration in class. I was wondering if … okay…” Victoria turns red.
“You need to know how to use a condom?” I ask her.
“Well, the guy always takes care of it, for, like, sex and stuff, but for other things…” Victoria looks like she wants to shrink away to nothingness.
Hailey chimes in, “What about oral sex?”
Oh. “What about oral sex?” I ask.
“Like. I don’t know. Condoms are just for sex-sex, right?” Victoria asks.
I take a deep breath. Some of this is stuff I’ve read up on, but a lot of it is stuff I just seem to know, like I absorbed it by osmosis by living with my mom.
“So, first off, I would consider oral sex, sex. And I’m assuming that ‘sex-sex’ is heterosexual vaginal intercourse,” I say.
They nod.
“Obviously, with intercourse, there is the possibility of pregnancy, so we normally think of condoms for preventing pregnancy,” I say. “But condoms can be used to prevent STIs during any sex act. Counting oral.”
“I told you,” Hailey mumbles.
“Second of all,” I say. “It’s awesome that your partner or partners are using condoms, but you can’t just dismiss it as ‘something the guy takes care of,’ you know?”
“Well … it’s his … penis…” Victoria sort of nervously giggles.
“Yeah, but you need to be in charge of your health. So, it’s best if you know how to use them properly. You might have to show a guy one day. Or maybe someone might use one incorrectly and you’d only know that if you know how to use one. And it doesn’t hurt to keep some on you. You know, prevent the ‘Oops, I don’t have a condom, but who cares if it’s just this once’ kind of thing.”
“Yeah. But, like, I’m not going to go buy condoms,” Victoria says, horrified.
“Why not?” Evita asks, more harshly than I would.
“It’s mortifying.”
“It’s a rite of passage,” Evita says. “Right, Lacey?”
“I think you might feel more empowered if you take charge of it,” I answer.
“Everyone knows this trick,” Evita offers. “Fill a basket with some shampoo, some chocolate, and a magazine. Then add the condoms to the basket. Try to time it so that you get an old lady to ring you up. Then talk about her hair or whatever, just nervously chatter while she rings you up.”
“And she won’t notice the condoms?” Victoria asks skeptically.
“Oh, she’ll notice, but she’ll know you’re nervous, so she’ll try real hard not to look judgmental about it,” Evita says.
“Or you can go to the clinic. You know the one across the street from the college campus? They just have a bowl of them right there,” Hailey says.
“For real?” Victoria asks.
“Where do you think I get mine? They even have flavored ones. Which—oh my god—makes total sense with oral,” Hailey says. “Anyway. Thanks, Lacey.”
“Yeah, thanks, Lacey. You’re the best,” Victoria says.
“Everything said in the office is confidential, so don’t worry about that,” Evita assures them.
Victoria and Hailey thank me and then leave.
“Dude. You know your shit,” Evita says to me.
“Evita. Come on. You knew all that stuff.”
“But there’s no way I would have had that conversation with them without scaring them off.”
“That’s probably true. Did you really do that trick at the drugstore?”
“Oh. Totally. Theo’s a total wuss about buying condoms. He thinks everyone is trying to picture him naked when he buys them.”
“He does not,” I say, shocked. No friend of mine should be a wuss about buying condoms.
Evita shrugs. “The point is: you know your shit.” We walk out of the bathroom and head to the cafeteria.
“I’m writing my paper for Mrs. Einhorn on condoms, by the way.”
“Rebel!”
“And now I’m thinking I should make people read it before I turn it in. There’s more to know than you would think. Stuff like types of lube you can use, or concerns with breakage and slippage.”
It’s loud when we get to the cafeteria, so I worry less about people hearing me, but then Evita squeals.
“Slippage and breakage? Are those official terms?”
“Actually, yeah,” I tell her.
“But seriously, why not show everyone your paper?” Evita asks. “We could, like, distribute pamphlets. That’d show them!”
“Pamphlets on what?” Theo asks.
“Slippage. Breakage. That sort of thing,” Evita says with a wry smile.
“That’s not a bad idea,” I tell her. I’m glad Victoria and Hailey sought me out, but how many of my classmates are too nervous
to talk about this stuff? Especially when it’s been made clear to us that these are questions we should feel ashamed to have. Like, which is better for keeping us healthy: shame or information? It seems like a no-brainer.
Eight
Our quartet meets in the orchestra room last period. The orchestra teacher flits in and out of the room. She’s overseeing our quartet, but she also wants us to handle things like repertoire and gigs and running our own rehearsals, just like professional chamber music groups. Our second violinist, Scott, is the first one there, so we all tune off him.
“New music?” Theo asks when we’re all settled.
“Please,” Lily Ann says. “Any suggestions?” She looks to Theo as if Scott and I don’t even exist. Though Scott’s never shown an opinion about what we play. It’s just as well. The three of us have enough opinions as it is. Lily Ann wants to make sure we have all the basic repertoire down, so we can get more wedding gigs. Theo wants to go more modern. I just like pretty and emotional things.
“Schubert?” I offer.
“Anything but Haydn,” Theo says. “Schubert could be good.”
“Not all Haydn is boring,” Lily Ann says. “But I like Schubert.”
“Actually…,” I start. But, no, maybe we should start with Schubert, and I should offer my piece at the end of the period, so if no one else is thrilled by it, I don’t have to know. “Ideas for Schubert or should we just play through some?” I hop up to the shelf of music and grab a folio of Schubert. The card stock of the covers is so worn it feels more like felt than paper. Worn sheet music is one of my favorite things, but I keep thinking of the crisp white sheets I brought with me. Lily Ann and Scott reach for their parts, but when I try to hand Theo his, he just raises an eyebrow at me. I don’t know how he does this, but he always knows when something is on my mind.
“Did you have another suggestion? Care to share with the class?”
“No. Well. I don’t know if anyone but you will like it,” I tell him. God. I wish I didn’t sound so freaking bashful and uncool in this moment.
“Even better. Pass out whatever it is you have in your bag that you keep looking at.” Theo is smirking.
“Yeah. Okay. But be kind. It’s sort of a birthday present. And … I haven’t really tried to write a quartet before.”
“You wrote one?” Lily Ann asks excitedly. “That’s awesome!”
The folder is out of the bag and in my hand before I can change my mind. “Happy birthday, Theo.”
Theo looks at his part and my cheeks burn. They’re all looking their parts over, and part of me feels so naked. I’m not sure how I’ll feel when we’re actually playing it.
“We should play it,” Lily Ann says.
“Sure,” I say, tightening and then loosening my bow. It’s my nervous habit. I’m never sure I’ve gotten quite the right tension.
“How fast is it supposed to be?” Lily Ann asks.
I pat my knee in beats of two and make a little tick with my tongue in sets of three eighth notes, counting out the six/eight time. Lily Ann nods and puts her violin up. I glance at Theo before we start, and he gives me this goofy look with wide eyes and high eyebrows and my nerves disappear. Lily Ann cues us, and we jump in.
It’s rough since we’re sight-reading. The syncopation messes Lily Ann up like I thought it would. And Scott shakes his head when his endless eighth notes don’t let up. But Theo sounds great. By the end we’re all grinning, because it was so fun, but I’m sure my smile is the biggest.
“Lacey!” Theo says. “This is by far the coolest present I have ever gotten! When did you even manage to write it?”
“It’s really good,” Lily Ann says. “And totally film-soundtrack-worthy.”
“Yeah?” I ask. “Should we actually … work on it? I mean, if you guys have suggestions for things to change … I’m totally up for notes.”
“Well…,” Lily Ann says, “I think we should play classic stuff, too.” She always says this. But for some reason it’s coming off as extra condescending today. “But … sure. Theo sounded amazing,” she says with a predictable swoony sigh.
“Thanks. No one has ever written something just for me before,” he says, looking at me with this sort of puzzled look that is impossible to read.
After a few more run-throughs, we pick a nice Schubert piece to practice, too.
“You guys want to go for coffee or something?” I ask when we’re packing up. I hold up my phone. “Apparently, Evita cut out of class early and has been there for twenty minutes and can’t believe we didn’t also cut out early and teleport there.”
“She is something else,” Lily Ann says. The way she says it is critical, and I wait for Theo to jump to his best friend’s defense.
“I have youth group,” Lily Ann continues when Theo doesn’t respond. “I wish I didn’t.”
“God won’t mind if you skip,” Theo says, buckling his case shut.
“My mom will, though. She’s sort of a tyrant about this stuff,” Lily Ann explains to me. And I pretend like this is news, as if Theo hasn’t been complaining about Lily Ann’s mom since they started dating.
“We will just have to hang out after youth group,” Theo says, kissing her nose.
I walk a little behind them through the music wing and out to the parking lot. I text Evita to tell her we’re on our way.
I put my viola and my backpack in the trunk and lean against my car waiting for Theo. Theo is bent in half to kiss Lily Ann through her open window.
I text Evita again:
I take it back. We aren’t on our way because one of us is making out.
Well, obviously it’s not you.
I’m about to be kind of offended at the suggestion that kissing is out of the realm of possibility for me ever, but then she adds:
… because I doubt you’d send me a text to update me if that were the case.
I send her five eye-rolling emoji, because they’re still kissing. I slide into my car and turn on some music until finally Theo hops in the passenger seat with the exuberance of a puppy.
“Lacey Burke!” he exclaims. “You sly creature!”
The muscles in my stomach I didn’t realize I was clenching relax. “Happy early birthday.”
I put the car in reverse, and Theo puts a hand over mine and guides it back to park. All at once, I notice an unwelcome flock butterflies in my stomach.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Just. Thank you. I had no idea. And … you just get me.”
“Did you notice the complete lack of unison when you and I played?” I ask him.
“Except for the awesome, epic double-stop chords! And that theme is killer, Burke. Like. I had no idea. You are a musical genius.”
“Shut up.”
“Lacey. No. Thank you.” His gaze is intense. Then he breaks into a grin. “Got it? I loved it. And you’re super talented.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“No. You’re amazing,” he says. “You have to believe me or I won’t let you go anywhere.”
“I’m amazing,” I say with a laugh, and he puts the car back in reverse.
He moves his hand, although I immediately wish it were back over mine.
“Could you hurry up? I want to treat you to coffee,” Theo says.
Nine
Evita sits with this older, intentionally scruffy-looking guy and waves us over excitedly. I give Theo my order and join her. She forgets to introduce me to the guy she’s with, but it doesn’t matter; Evita makes friends with everyone. They’re talking about some show they went to last week.
“He’s a grade-A musician,” Evita tells me.
I look at him and smile politely. He’s at least college-aged. Half the people in this town are college students. I have this uncomfortable feeling Evita is trying to set me up or something. I don’t even know his name.
“Bruno plays bass,” Evita says.
I look at Bruno. “Like bass guitar?”
“Double bass. Jazz mostly,
” he says.
I nod appreciatively.
“We’re trying to figure out how we can combine our talents,” Evita says. “Just brainstorming here, but some bass might round out our sound a bit, or something. I mean, he could play with the Sparrows, or even just record a few riffs. Something.”
The poor guy looks at Evita like she’s the coolest person ever, like he’s drinking in every word she’s saying. And it’s funny to me that despite her wacky clothes (sweatpants tucked into tube socks and this drapey poncho thing that looks like it swallowed her whole) and her complete lack of flirtation or interest, she’s still attractive to him. I mean, she’s gorgeous. Despite all the effort she is putting in trying to get me to talk to these guys, I don’t compete.
I’m not great at flirting, I’ll admit. But maybe that’s because I’m always next to Evita. Even when she totally shuts people down (like “I’m not giving you my number” or “I don’t date people I don’t know”), they still look enamored. And yet, here I always am. I probably would give half those guys my number. I totally would go on a date with someone I didn’t know that well. But it doesn’t matter, because no one asks me.
“Yeah. You guys might be good, but Lacey here writes intricate and nuanced and emotional string quartets,” Theo says, handing me a coffee drink that’s as much cream and caramel as coffee.
“Oh. That’s awesome,” Bruno says. “I’m into a more relaxed, improvisational vibe than that, probably. But I think we could do wicked stuff with some of your mixing.” And his attention’s squarely on Evita again.
“Let’s do that soon,” she says enthusiastically. “But you should let me get to my family dinner. Cool running into you.”
Bruno gets the hint and saunters off after making sure he has Evita’s number—which she actually gives him.
The Birds, the Bees, and You and Me Page 5