Revenge Of A Band Geek Gone Bad

  "Come on," I said to my friends, leading them away. I didn't want to look at her anymore; it made me think too much about things I didn't really want to think about. "We're gonna be late to class."

  ###

  For the rest of the day the stories about Ken and Kathy circulated. By now, those horrific photos of me were old news; an A-list couple splitting up was much more interesting. By the time I got to wind ensemble, I'd heard about a dozen different accounts of their breakup: she cheated on him, he cheated on her, he was being sent to military school, she was a lesbian, he gave her an incurable disease and they were both going to die, she had herpes. It was amazing how creative my fellow students could be when they put their minds to it.

  That day's rehearsal was held out on the stage. We were up first, followed by the orchestra and chorus, which were also performing that night. Unlike the holiday recital, this was in the real auditorium which holds several hundred people. Our families wouldn't see us until that evening but students were invited to watch us during the day. I felt a little thrill rush through me just from being out there and peering into the sea of auditorium seats. During our regular rehearsals, it was sometimes easy to forget that we were putting these pieces together so we could entertain people. But being out on the stage reminded me of our purpose and how Josh had once said it was "do or die." This rehearsal was it, our last chance. After that, it was up to us to stay together as a wind ensemble and somehow make that music come to life.

  Kathy arrived and took her seat, which was closest to the edge of the stage. She looked worse than she had this morning; her eyes were still red and puffy, only now her cheeks were streaked with mascara, probably from crying all day. I turned away from her because I didn't want her to see me staring. Soon, the rest of the students filed in with Mr. Francis bringing up the rear. He waddled over to his podium and rapped on the stand with his baton.

  "All right, it's crunch time," he bellowed, waving his baton around. "That means I want you to pretend that this is the real thing. No slip-ups, no mistakes." He growled the last part.

  We began playing the strains of Broadway for the Band, making our way through Annie and Sweeney Todd. Suddenly, Mr. Francis stopped us, infuriated.

  "What is this?" he roared, holding up a portion of his conductor's score. Since I was sitting close to him, I could see that cutouts from a men's magazine were taped to the pages. I tried not to laugh. It was Josh's doing, no doubt.

  "What is this?" he repeated. No one answered, but the students in the audience began to giggle. Of course, Mr. Francis turned right to Josh.

  "Mr. Kowalski, is this your handiwork?"

  "No," Josh replied, trying not to laugh. "But if you like reading magazines like that, hey, I'm not gonna judge..."

  "I know this was you!" our conductor barked. "Only you'd waste my time with such nonsense."

  "Hey, I read that magazine strictly for the articles."

  Mr. Francis shook his head. "Well, today's your lucky day because I don't have time for this. But that doesn't mean I'm not keeping an eye on you. Give me one good reason, and you're out of here -- and out of the concert." He glared at the rest of us. "That goes for everyone." He slammed a baton against his stand, breaking it, then promptly grabbed another.

  I glanced over at Josh. He smiled at me and shrugged.

  Next, we started West Side Story, which was our most difficult number. This time, Josh put on a silly hat and sunglasses. The kids in the audience roared.

  "That's enough!" Mr. Francis cried. "Guys, seriously, we don't have time for this funny business."

  "But it's fun having props," Josh argued. Ken cracked up.

  "Just get out!" Mr. Francis shrieked. "And don't bother showing up tonight!"

  With a wave of his hat, Josh sauntered off the stage. I vowed to convince Mr. Francis to let Josh back into the concert, and then to have a long talk with my boyfriend.

  "You, too, Samuels!" Mr. Francis ordered.

  Ken's eyes widened. "Me? What did I do?"

  "I saw you laughing along with Kowalski. GET OUT! And don’t think I won’t tell Dr. Chambourg about this."

  Ken grunted and angrily kicked his chair, but obeyed.

  "Okay, now where were we?" Mr. Francis asked, not really wanting an answer. "Ah, yes, 'Maria.' "

  This was Kathy's cue to play her opening solo. Only she didn't move. She just sat there, staring. I nudged her. "Kathy, it's your turn."

  She jumped. "What? Oh." She began playing but tripped up in the very first measure. Mr. Francis held up his hand.

  "Is there a problem, Miss Meadows?"

  "No, I, uh, I'm just not feeling well," she mumbled. She kept her head down, not daring to look at him. A few students in the audience quietly chuckled.

  "Then you'd better make yourself feel better very quickly," Mr. Francis warned. "The concert's tonight."

  "I know that," she said. She made another attempt at the solo, but still flubbed a couple of notes. Mr. Francis made a noise that sounded like a cross between a sigh and a grunt.

  "Meadows, what's the deal?" he asked. "Are you going to be able to play this? I can't have you coming out here sounding like crap." Kathy bit her lip and a tear rolled down her cheek.

  "Miss Rhodes, will you please take over?" he asked, pointing his baton at me. He again grunted at Kathy. "Oh, and please switch seats with Miss Rhodes. If you can't hack the solo, you don't get to sit in the first chair."

  ###

  After rehearsal, I went to search for Josh so I could tell him about what had happened. I suppose that it was safe to say we'd "won"; after all, I was finally given back first chair. But to be honest, it turned out that this wasn't exactly how I saw myself earning it. I wanted to be first because I was the best, not because someone else screwed up. It was similar to how I felt about the recital: did Dr. Chambourg choose me to be in his orchestra because I truly deserved it or had I been the "best" that evening simply because Kathy hadn't really been given a fair chance to perform?

  Once I reached the parking lot, I put those thoughts behind me. Josh and Ken were standing by Josh's car and looked to be in the middle of an intense argument.

  "I'm not doing it," Ken shouted. "I won't let you have it."

  "But you did it already," Josh told him. "It's too late to back out!"

  "I don't care, you can't make me. I already feel bad about it!" As I got closer, I saw that Ken was tightly gripping something in his hand. Josh kept reaching for it, but Ken was bigger and taller than him.

  "Just give it to me!" Josh shouted, his face turning red. "Come on, man, you know why it's important!"

  "Dude, don't make this ugly," Ken warned.

  Pretty soon, a crowd formed around them. I pushed my way through and made my way over to the guys. "What's going on?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light. "Is everything okay?"

  Josh pursed his lips. "This doesn't concern you, Mel. Just ... just don't get involved."

  "But..." How could I not get involved? My boyfriend was about to get his ass kicked.

  "Yeah, get out of here," Ken said. He addressed the group. "All of you, just get lost!"

  Of course, no one listened. Ken and Josh stood a few inches apart, eyeing each other as if they were lions about to fight it out. Suddenly, Josh lunged at Ken, trying to grab the object from him. With a swift move, Ken whirled around and tossed the item —- which was a digital camera, I now saw —- into the middle of the street. Josh's mouth flew open.

  "No!" he cried. "You're such a dick! How could you do that?" He threw up his arms. "You asshole!"

  Ken sneered. "Whatever. I'm done with you."

  "Oh, we're not done," Josh said. Before any of us knew what was happening, Josh bolted over to where the camera was and snatched it off the ground. He triumphantly held it over his head ... just as a car whizzed around the corner. The driver screeched to a halt, but it was too late: the vehicle slammed into Josh. In what appeared to be slow motion, he hurtled several feet into the air and then crashed onto
the ground. Everyone gasped as we regarded his limp, lifeless body. I wanted to run over to him, but my feet remained motionless. I sucked in a big gulp of air and realized that I'd been holding my breath.

  "Oh my God!" I whispered, as the sky spun around me. I felt the cold earth hit me and realized that I'd fallen to my knees. "Josh!" I cried, louder, now sobbing. "Josh!"

  Before long, paramedics arrived on the scene, pushing back the crowds that surrounded Josh. Mr. Francis, as well as the other teachers present, frantically tried to usher the curious students out of the way. The sounds of sirens filled my ears. I couldn't move from my spot on the ground. I just sat there crying and shaking.

  Finally, Josh was taken away in an ambulance and the lot cleared out. I don't know how long I stayed in that spot, hugging my knees and shaking, but it seemed like hours. At last, the numbness went away; I looked around, trying to figure out what to do next.

  I jumped when I felt a hand grab my shoulder. It was Mr. Francis. "Come on, Miss Rh... er, Melinda," he said gently. "I'll take you to the hospital."

  CHAPTER 18

  "He's gonna be okay, Melinda," Mr. Francis said as he led me to his car. He drove a sleek, black Mazda, definitely not what I expected from a man who was wearing a blue and red Hawaiian print shirt with a green cardigan. For a fleeting moment, I smiled as I filed this bit of information away for Josh, but then realized that I might not ever get to share it with him. For what seemed like the millionth time that afternoon, I dissolved into sobs.

  "It's okay, it's okay," Mr. Francis repeated again, awkwardly patting my shoulder. "He was still breathing when the ambulance arrived. That's a good thing."

  "I don't know," I said. "He could be paralyzed or brain dead or something." I clicked on my seatbelt and leaned my head against the seat. "Or he could have internal injuries. I watched this medical show with that once," I said, sniffling. "The person died soon after."

  "But there's no sense in worrying about any of that until we do know what the situation is," my conductor said quietly. "He's young and in good shape. That's almost always an advantage."

  I nodded. "I guess. But the thing is, my grandfather just died. He was sick for a long time and then seemed to be getting better ... but it was then that he passed away. So being strong doesn't always help."

  "I'm sorry to hear about your grandfather. I've lost people I love, too, like my parents. It's never easy."

  I choked back yet another sob. "I just don't know if I'm ready to lose another person I care about."

  ###

  Unlike Josh, Mr. Francis didn't turn on the radio, though I did notice that he had a lot of CDs in the front seat. Most featured classical music. My conductor didn't say anything for most of the drive to the hospital, but I did catch him glancing over at me from time to time, probably to make sure I wasn't having a breakdown. I kept my eyes closed, willing myself not to lose control again, though the image of Josh lying on the ground kept returning to me. I had no idea what kind of condition Josh was in, but tried not to fall apart. I needed to keep it together, for him and for myself. The last thing Josh would need was to see me as a weeping mess. All that would do is make him worry about me —- that is, if he were even conscious enough to have any feelings. My throat burned as I fought against the lump that was forming in it.

  Mr. Francis broke the silence. "You know, despite what you may think, I don't hate Mr. Kow ... er, Josh," he said.

  I lifted my head. "I never thought that. I know he gets on your nerves."

  "He does, but he's also passionate about music and I respect him for that. And the last thing I ever wanted was for him to get hurt."

  "I didn't think that, either. Why are you telling me this?"

  He let out an embarrassed chuckle. "I know what you kids think of me. I know you think I'm a monster and don't always agree with my methods. And I also know Josh is important to you, that you guys have some kind of well, thing, going. I just don't want you to think that in the times I've been angry with him —- and there've been many —- that I ever wished for this to happen."

  "I..." What was I supposed to say to that? I suddenly felt a little bad for the guy. "Thanks," I replied. I forced myself to smile. "Before you know it, Josh will probably be back to tormenting you again."

  Mr. Francis sighed. "I hope so. I really do."

  The hospital was only about 10 minutes away, but it seemed like the trip was taking hours. At last we arrived. I bolted toward the emergency room entrance as Mr. Francis locked up his car. He waddled in after me just as I made my way over to the front desk.

  "I — I w-want to kn-know if there's any in-information on J-Joshua Kowalski," I stammered to the receptionist. She was an elderly woman with dyed red hair and beady blue eyes. Her name tag said "Madeline."

  "What's the patient's name?" she asked, her eyes never leaving her computer screen. She sounded bored, as if my distress meant nothing to her. Come to think of it, I guess it didn't. She was used to dealing with anxious people.

  "Joshua Kowalski," I repeated, forcing myself to not stutter this time. "He was just hit by a car in front of Sequoia High School. He's my boyfriend," I finished, my voice trailing off.

  Now Madeline looked up. "So you're not a relative?"

  "Well, no, not technically, but we're very close..."

  "I can't let a minor into ICU without an adult -- an adult who's related to the patient."

  I gasped. Someone being in ICU was never, ever good on medical shows. It always meant the person was in critical condition. "Is he gonna die?" I asked. I gripped the side of the desk so I wouldn't pass out.

  Madeline frowned as if I were wasting her time. "Just wait over there," she said, pointing to the cluster of cushioned chairs, "and maybe you'll run into someone from his family. We don't usually give out patient information to anyone other than the next of kin. They can give you any updates."

  I slowly backed away as the receptionist turned back to her computer. By now, my head was swimming. I leaned against the wall and tried to catch my breath. Mr. Francis approached me.

  "I left a message for your parents, just so they know what's going on," he informed me. He noticed me cup my head in my hands. "You okay?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned. He handed me a cup of water from the cooler that was in the reception area. "What did that woman tell you?"

  "Nothing," I said bitterly. I took a sip. "Apparently, I don't matter since I'm just a kid. But she did mention something about the ICU unit."

  Mr. Francis growled and went into angry conductor mode. "Want me to talk to her?" he offered. "I'll bet I can get some answers out of that woman. I'll pretend to be Josh's uncle."

  Yeah, and you'll probably also get yourself carted off by security, I thought to myself. "No, don't do anything," I told him. "I'm just going to wait until I can talk to Josh's mom."

  He grunted. "Fine, but let me know if you change your mind." His expression softened. "I'm here, Melinda, if you need anything."

  Despite everything, I gave him a little grin. "Thanks."

  ###

  Soon after, the emergency room waiting area began to fill with Sequoia High students. Their faces swam in front of me so I had a hard time keeping track of how many of them were there, but I could make out a bunch of people from band: Ken and the rest of the trumpet players, Maya ... even Kathy. She sat as far away from Ken as possible, keeping her face turned from his. The other people in the area regarded the large group of students suspiciously as if we'd whip out a keg right there in the emergency room, but for so many kids, we were a pretty tame lot. Everyone spoke in hushed tones and basically stayed out of everyone else's way.

  When I joined them, the others became quiet and eyed me with what could only be described as pity. I didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me, so I simply nodded to them and took a seat. Ken came up to me and took my hands in his. "I'm sorry, Mel," he whispered. His face was pale. "This whole thing is my fault."

  I was about to ask him why he and Josh were fighting over a cam
era, but then Lana arrived with Lenny. She ran over to me and pulled me into a hug, not even caring that Ken was right there. "Oh, Mel," she cried. She squeezed me with more force. "Is he alive? I can't believe this is happening!"

  Lenny didn't say anything ... which, frankly, creeped me out, given the way he usually was. He just kept his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  Lana, on the other hand, couldn't stop babbling. "So, what did they say happened? Is he alive? What's going on? Did they say if he's brain-dead? Oh my God, how are you doing? Can I get you anything?" She bounced nervously.

  "I'm okay, but I don't know how Josh is," I said. "We're waiting for Josh's mom to tell us." I slumped down in a chair, which was pretty comfortable considering that it was in a hospital. Up until that point, I hadn't realized how lightheaded I was. I wished I could sleep and pretend I was in a nightmare.

  "But that might take hours!" Lana was saying about Josh. "We can't wait that long. You at least deserve to know if he's going to be okay."

  "I know, but that woman wouldn't tell me anything," I said, nodding toward Madeline. "She wouldn't even look at me."

  "So let's make her. There are so many of us here now, what's she going to do if we all start rioting? Or..." Lana paused for a moment. "Just tell her your dad works here! He's probably her boss or something, right?"

  A lightbulb clicked on for me and I smacked my forehead. She was right. Duh, why hadn't I thought about that before? I asked myself. Oh yeah, because I was too busy freaking out. Feeling a little more confident, I marched over to the desk. Lana and Mr. Francis joined me.

  "Hi, Madeline, it's me again," I said to her.

  She stopped typing and gave me a long-suffering sigh. I could hear Mr. Francis beginning to snarl beside me.

  "No, you're not going to be all rude to me again," I told Madeline. "I realize that you're very busy and that things are crazy in the emergency room, and that you have rules or whatever, but my boyfriend was hit by a freakin' car today. I'm not asking to see him or anything —- though that would be nice, even though I'm not related to him —- but I think that we..." I nodded toward the ever-growing group of students —- "Have a right to know if he's at least okay. And if you're not going to at least give us that, well then, I don't think you're going to want to deal with a group of loud, angry teenagers."