Sleepovers, Solos, and Sheet Music

by Michelle Schusterman

  It had been my idea. And apparently, it was a good one.

  “Awesome!” I exclaimed, right as Natasha said, “Wow!”

  The middle of the shirt was an explosion of instruments, flutes and horns and drumsticks all bursting out in a circle—it almost looked 3-D. A confetti of music notes and clefs surrounded the instruments, with MILLICAN MIDDLE SCHOOL in a curve along the top of the circle and BAND in huge letters along the bottom.

  “Whoa, did you draw that?”

  We turned to see Aaron leaning out of his chair, his eyes wide. Victoria stood up to see, then Trevor, and pretty soon half the band was crowded around us. Owen’s face was red.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Well, it started as a sketch, but then I scanned it and used a program to do the color wash and adjust the tonal gradation and . . .” He trailed off, looking embarrassed. “I mean, yeah, I drew it.”

  “That is so cool!” Gabby exclaimed right as Mr. Dante dropped a box on his podium. “Is that our shirts?” she asked eagerly, and he smiled.

  “Yes—and if you’ll take your seats, maybe I can hand them out.”

  I reached across Natasha to nudge Owen’s arm before he slid back over to his seat. “Nice job!”

  He grinned, still a little red-faced. “Thanks.”

  Mr. Dante went over our schedule and packing list for the band trip while Sophie and Liam passed out the shirts. In all the excitement, I’d almost forgotten about Julia. She was staring at her schedule, T-shirt in her lap. I watched her for a minute, but she never looked up.

  “Okay, warm-ups,” Mr. Dante announced. “And after we take care of the chair test, let’s do a run-through of all three pieces for the contest.”

  I froze with my hand on my folder. Chair test? Glancing around, I realized no one else looked surprised. Then I remembered.

  Our next chair test will be the day before the trip. Mr. Dante had told us last week. Numbly, I pulled out my scale sheet. I’d never forgotten about a chair test before.

  After warm-ups, Mr. Dante tested the woodwinds one at a time while I practically burned a hole through the exercise with my eyes. It wasn’t too hard, but I hadn’t played through it in almost a week. Ugh, this was so unlike me.

  When it was Natasha’s turn, I held my horn in my lap, quietly pressing the valves down along with her. I messed up a rhythm in the fourth measure, then noticed the key signature and realized I’d been playing B naturals instead of B flats the whole time. So when my turn came, I was pretty much freaking out in my head.

  And I totally bombed.

  Okay, it wasn’t catastrophic or anything. It wasn’t like the time at the pep rally when I had to play a solo in front of the whole school and the grossest noise ever came out of my horn. But it was by far the worst I’d ever done on a chair test.

  Right before the band trip, too. Stellar.

  When Mr. Dante had moved on to Brooke, I leaned closer to Natasha. “Oh my God.”

  She smiled. “Aw, it wasn’t that bad.” I gave her a Look, and she snickered.

  Brooke sounded pretty good. I listened carefully as Owen played. He’d seemed pretty surprised about getting a Superior rating on his solo, especially since he spent so much time at baseball practice now. But obviously he was still finding time to practice for band, because he sounded great on the chair test, too.

  Owen could probably teach Julia something about time management. It was kind of a mean thing to think, but I thought it anyway.

  After rehearsal, I noticed Julia lingering at her cubby, slowly taking her clarinet apart and placing the pieces in her case. I took my time, too, waiting while Natasha talked to Aaron. Once he’d left the cubby room, Natasha and I headed over to Julia.

  “Hey!” I said, keeping my voice light. Julia glanced at us.

  “Hi.”

  “Look, we just wanted to talk to you about Saturday,” I told her, and Natasha nodded. “I’m sorry about what I said, but I was upset—Natasha and I planned that party for weeks, we had all these people over decorating all day, and we made this cake, and it just—”

  “Oh my God, stop!” Julia’s eyes squinched up, and I couldn’t tell if she was about to cry or was just glaring at me. “Geez, Holly, what’s with the guilt trip about this party? It’s not my fault—I didn’t know!”

  I stared at her. “Guilt trip?”

  “Yes!” She let out a shaky breath. “You planned a surprise party for me and I didn’t come, and I’m really sorry, seriously . . . but on the phone, you made me feel horrible! You said I picked Seth, like I chose him over you guys.”

  “You did!”

  “That’s not fair!” she cried. I glanced around, but the cubby room was empty. “Just because I went to the concert instead? It’s not like—”

  “Hang on,” Natasha interrupted. “Julia, I’m really sorry, but it’s . . . it’s not just because you went to the concert.”

  Julia wiped her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Natasha and I shared a glance. “You just . . .” I chewed my lip. “You spend a lot of time with Seth now, which is great, but it just seems like we never see you anymore.”

  “And when we do, he’s all you want to talk about,” Natasha added. “Or you’ll make plans with us, then not show up because of Seth—like when we were supposed to have lunch at my place before all-region.”

  “We’re really happy you like him so much,” I said quickly. “We just . . . I don’t know, we miss you. And sometimes, like Saturday, it feels like you’d rather hang out with Seth than us.”

  Julia’s eyes welled up with tears, and suddenly I felt terrible. She really must not have known how she’d been treating us lately. It would feel pretty awful to suddenly realize you’d been neglecting your best friends.

  “Why are you guys being so mean?” she whispered.

  My mouth dropped. “What?”

  “You’re being mean.” Julia wiped her eyes, her voice hardening. “Yeah, I hang out with Seth a lot. Do you yell at Natasha when she goes out with Aaron?”

  “Of course not!” I felt my cheeks heat up, and Natasha cut in.

  “Julia, this is different,” she said. “It’s not just that you hang out with him a lot, it’s . . .”

  “It’s that you always choose him over us,” I finished. “Every single time.”

  “Based on Saturday?” Julia snapped. “You know, those tickets were expensive, and it’s not like I planned for the concert to be that night. It’s not my fault—I didn’t know about it. Or the slumber party.”

  “Fine, I get that.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “But it’s not like that mattered. We could’ve told you about the party weeks ago, and I bet you still would’ve ditched us for Seth.”

  Julia shook her head and picked up her backpack. “You know what? I don’t have to listen to this.” And she stormed out of the cubby room.

  Natasha and I looked at each other in disbelief.

  “I can’t believe she’s mad at us,” I said, my voice quaking a little. “We haven’t done anything wrong!”

  Natasha shook her head. “I know.”

  We didn’t say much as we walked to the cafeteria. Julia sat with Seth, facing away from the entrance. Natasha and I were heading to our regular table when I noticed Aaron waving. Natasha saw him, too, and waved back before turning to me.

  “Um, do you want to come sit with me and Aaron?” she asked. “His friends won’t mind, and—”

  “Nah, go ahead!” I said before she could finish. “No, really, you go. It’s Warlock time, anyway.”

  Natasha gave me a halfhearted smile. “You and that weird game.”

  She made her way over to Aaron’s table, and I plopped down next to Owen and threw my lunch bag on the table probably a little harder than necessary.

  “Watch it!” Trevor gave me a dirty look, stacking up the pile of cards I’d knocke
d over.

  “Sorry,” I muttered. Owen grabbed the stack and started shuffling them.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  “Nope.” Sighing, I pulled out my sandwich, along with my deck of cards. “Let’s play.”

  Julia and I didn’t speak for the rest of the day. Not even in computer lab seventh period—she sat on the other side of the room. I just couldn’t believe she was so angry, like Natasha and I had done something wrong.

  I fumed all the way home and all through dinner. But then I started packing for New Orleans, which turned out to be a pretty good distraction.

  “What in the . . .”

  Chad stood in the doorway to my room, gawking. I’d pinned the packing list Mr. Dante had given us to my bulletin board, along with a list of my own. My bed was covered in neat stacks of folded clothes. My horn, cleaning supplies, and music were arranged on the floor. Shampoo, toothpaste, and all my other bathroom stuff were separated into labeled plastic baggies on my dresser. I kneeled on the floor in front of a row of every pair of shoes I owned, in order by type.

  “I’m busy, Chad.”

  Chad squinted. “Are you seriously bringing all those shoes?”

  “Of course not.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m narrowing it down to three pairs.”

  “Holly,” Chad said slowly. “You make packing way too complicated. I’d have this done in five minutes.”

  I snorted. “Right, like when we went to the lake for a week last summer.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Chad, you forgot to pack underwear.”

  He shrugged. “So? I had swim trunks, it didn’t matter.”

  Shaking my head, I set aside two pairs of sandals and moved on to sneakers. “Never mind. What do you want?”

  “Do you know where my Scattered DVD is?”

  I pointed to my dresser. “There. Hang on,” I added when he stepped forward. “Are you lending it to someone?”

  Grabbing the case, Chad sighed. “Yeah, Toby. And no, I’m not making him sign that stupid sheet you made.”

  “Fine, but you’d better mark down that he borrowed it in that spreadsheet I sent you.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  I glared at Chad as he headed back into the hall. “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “Oh no. Of course not.” He closed my door behind him with a little smirk.

  Seriously, between his total lack of organizational skills and his fear of washing machines, it would be a miracle if my brother survived college.

  I woke up ten minutes before my six o’clock alarm went off. Thirty minutes later, I’d hauled my luggage, backpack, and horn case down to the kitchen. Mom walked in and flipped on the coffeemaker. Then she saw me by the door and groaned.

  “Holly . . .”

  “I know,” I interrupted. “The charter bus doesn’t leave until eight. But look.” I waved Mr. Dante’s schedule at her, then read out loud: “Be there early—if you sleep in, you’ll be left behind.”

  Mom opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head. I watched as she traded her coffee mug for a thermos. Five minutes later, we were in the car, pulling out of the driveway.

  The school’s parking lot was deserted. I squinted at the clock—it wasn’t even seven yet. Leaning back in her seat, Mom took a sip of coffee and gave me the side-eye.

  “Better safe than sorry,” I told her firmly, and she grumbled something under her breath.

  Half an hour later, a few more cars pulled into the parking lot. I saw Mr. Dante walking up to unlock the band hall just as a huge charter bus appeared at the end of the street.

  Once the bus parked, Mom helped me drag all my stuff over. “Got your cell phone?”

  “Yup.” I set my horn case down, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and waved it at her.

  “Have a great time, be safe, don’t forget to . . .” She paused, yawning. “Call me when you get there. Oh, there’s Julia!”

  I turned instinctively as Mom waved. Mr. Gordon waved back from his car, where Julia was pulling her suitcase out of the backseat. I faced Mom again.

  “Thanks, Mom. Love you.” We hugged, and the second she headed back to her car, I hurried to the band hall. Seeing Julia had my stomach all knotted up. We’d been looking forward to the band trip for months, and now we weren’t even speaking to each other.

  Mr. Dante stood just inside the band hall, taping a few sheets to the door.

  “Good morning, Holly.”

  “Morning,” I said. “What’s that?”

  “Room assignments,” he explained. “I’ll go over them again when we get to the hotel, but I thought everyone would want to see them before we leave.”

  Oh no. I tried to smile at Mr. Dante as he headed to his office. A few weeks ago, everyone had put in roommate requests. I found my name on the list and groaned.

  Room 5

  Gabby Flores

  Natasha Prynne

  Holly Mead

  Julia Gordon

  Stellar. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten we’d be rooming together. Especially since I’d been so excited about it—five whole days with Julia, and no Seth. Frustrated, I leaned my head against the door that led out to the parking lot. Then someone pulled it open, and I stumbled forward with a shriek.

  “Holly!” Natasha caught me, laughing. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I made a face. “Well, not really. Look.”

  I pointed to the list and watched Natasha wince. “Oh, right. Forgot about that.” She glanced around, lowering her voice. “This is stupid. I don’t want to fight with Julia. Maybe we can talk to her on the bus ride or something.”

  “I don’t really know if she wants to talk to us,” I said. “But you’re right—we should try. Again.”

  By now, it looked like most of the band was here. After Natasha grabbed her horn from the cubbies, we headed back outside. A few parents were loading all the luggage and instrument cases into the compartment under the bus. Liam’s mom stood near the door, holding a clipboard.

  “Morning, ladies!” she said cheerfully.

  “Hi, Mrs. Park.”

  “Natasha and Holly.” She added two checks to her list and smiled at us. “Lucky me, you’re in one of the rooms I’m chaperoning. I know I won’t have any problems with you girls!”

  We smiled back and headed up the steps.

  “Is Julia on yet?” I asked, standing on tiptoe. The charter bus was huge, and several kids were still milling around, looking for seats.

  “I don’t see . . . oh. Yeah.” Natasha glanced at me. “Look, she’s way back there, next to Sophie. The seats around her are already taken.”

  I sighed. “Great.”

  Natasha and I headed down the aisle. I was about to grab two empty seats together when Natasha turned around to face me, her expression worried.

  “Um, Holly . . . ,” she said hesitantly. “I kind of promised Aaron I’d sit with him.”

  “Oh!” I almost laughed. Of course she’d want to sit with her boyfriend. “No problem.”

  “I don’t have to, though!” she added quickly. “Why don’t we just—”

  “No, don’t be ridiculous.” When I spotted Aaron, I pushed Natasha gently down the aisle. “Sit with him, seriously.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! I’ll find you guys when we stop for lunch, okay?”

  “Okay.” Natasha gave me a grateful smile. I stepped to the side to let Max pass, then faced the front of the bus. Noticing the top of a blond head in the second row, I made my way up the aisle.

  “Hey!” I said. “Can I sit with you?”

  “Sure!” Owen heaved his stuffed backpack off the seat next to him. I sat down, staring at the bag.

  “Geez, what did you bring?”

  Instead of answering, he unzipped the backpac
k and held it open. I peered inside and grinned. Sketchbook, a giant pack of pencils, some sort of a handheld video game, a stack of DVDs, and a bunch of snacks. It was like Owen had somehow packed his whole game room into his bag.

  “Why the movies?” I asked.

  “To watch on the ride.” Owen pointed, and sure enough, there was a DVD player installed between the front window and the ceiling. Then I noticed little flip-down TVs over the seats, like on an airplane.

  “Aw, I should’ve brought some of mine!”

  Owen smiled. “I don’t think Mr. Dante would let us watch any of your movies.”

  Before I could respond, someone said: “Why not?” We both glanced up to see Mr. Dante putting his laptop bag in the seat behind the driver.

  “She only owns horror movies,” Owen explained, and Mr. Dante raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Horror movies are perfect for a trip,” I said defensively. “Do you have any idea how many of them start out like this, with a group of people going on vacation or something, and then their car breaks down in a little town that’s haunted or has a bunch of vampires or—”

  “Holly,” Mr. Dante interrupted. “I’m pretty sure most of the students—and parents—would very much not enjoy watching a movie like that during a long bus ride.”

  I sighed. “Yeah. Not many people have good taste in movies.”

  Snickering, Owen pulled one of the DVDs out of his bag and handed it to Mr. Dante. “How about this one?”

  “Cyborgs versus Ninjas.” Mr. Dante flipped the case over and read the back. “This looks fine. I don’t think Holly agrees, though,” he added, probably because I was scowling.

  “No, it’s a good movie,” I admitted grudgingly. “Even if the title is totally misleading.”

  “She tried to guess the ending,” Owen told Mr. Dante. “And failed.”

  I glared at him. Laughing, Mr. Dante slid the case on top of the DVD player. “Okay, this one will be up first. Let’s get everyone settled in and go over a few rules first, though.”