I crossed my arms. “Well, technically I did play the chair test better.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I cringed. Did that sound obnoxious? It was true, but still.
But Gabby just looked thoughtful. “You sounded great, definitely. But, I mean, so did Natasha.”
Sighing, I glanced over at the booth where Mr. Dante was sitting. “But, Gabby, I played it perfectly. I’m not saying Natasha isn’t good, but she didn’t play it exactly right like I did. I don’t . . . I don’t understand why Mr. Dante gave her first chair.”
Gabby set her plate down next to the stacks of cups. “Okay, so you played exactly what was on the page. But you know, it’s not always about that.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. It must have showed on my face, because Gabby laughed.
“Look, you and Natasha both sounded awesome,” she said. “And it’s really not that big a deal, right? First chair, second chair, whatever.”
Um, it was kind of a huge deal. First was better than second. Duh.
But I just smiled at her. “Yeah, right.”
Aaron was standing over by the air hockey table on the opposite side of the room. I couldn’t help but notice his shirt was the same color blue as my dress. We matched. It was a thought so dorky, I wasn’t even sure I’d tell Julia if she were here. And if we were on speaking terms.
Aaron watched the game intently, high-fiving Brooke when she scored one on Liam Park. I could see the smile parentheses from here.
“Oh my God, just go talk to him already.”
Gabby was grinning at me. I felt my cheeks burn.
“What?”
“Go talk to him,” Gabby repeated, looking pointedly at Aaron. I shook my head.
“Why not?” she said. “He’s really nice.”
“I know he is,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I’ve talked to him before.”
“So go do it now.”
I looked over at Aaron again, and my stomach started flip-flopping. I shook my head again, toying with my turtle necklace.
“Nope. Too nervous.”
Gabby rolled her eyes. “Come on, Holly. He’s just a guy.” She pushed me, and I stumbled forward a few steps.
“Fine!” I tried to glare at her. “But if you see me standing over there drooling like a moron, you’d better come save me.”
“Deal.”
I had to navigate around the growing line at the buffet and the cluster of people waiting for their turn at Skee-Ball. By the time I got to the air hockey table, Brooke had apparently beaten Liam, because Gabe Fernandez had taken his place. Aaron was still standing by the table, but he wasn’t paying attention to the game anymore.
Because he was talking to Natasha.
I stopped, staring at them. Why was she talking to Aaron? Why was she giggling at whatever he was saying? Why was she touching his arm?
Gabe scored a goal to scattered applause, and Aaron glanced back at the game. When he did, for the briefest of seconds, Natasha’s eyes flickered in my direction.
And she smiled.
It happened so fast, I almost didn’t catch it. Then realization dawned, and my stomach clenched.
Before rehearsal, in the cubby room. Julia had been teasing me about hanging around her locker. Natasha must have realized we were talking about Aaron. Either that, or she’d managed to get Julia to tell her that I . . . how I felt about him.
She was doing this on purpose.
I walked away from the table. My face felt like it was on fire. I leaned against the entrance to the arcade room, listening to the beeps and pings and yells and trying to think clearly.
But thinking clearly was hard at this level of apoplectic.
It wasn’t enough that this girl was first chair. It wasn’t enough that just two weeks at band camp had bumped her to best friend status with Julia. It wasn’t enough that her grades were perfect and her hair was perfect and her dress and boots were almost exactly like mine.
She had to steal Aaron, too.
Not that Aaron was mine. But did Natasha even like him, really? Or was she just doing this to get revenge because of a little spit on her shoe? I mean, she’d never mentioned liking him before.
I pictured the way she’d glanced at me and smiled just now, and my hands clenched into fists at my sides.
Applause broke out again around the air-hockey table. Judging from the high fives, it looked like Brooke had beaten Gabe, too. Aaron said something to Natasha, then moved to the end of the table. I waited until he and Brooke started to play before walking over and tapping Natasha on the shoulder.
She turned, and her eyes widened. “Oh! Um . . . hi.”
“Can I talk to you for a sec?” I kept my voice light, but Natasha glanced around nervously.
“Yeah, okay.”
We left the table and walked over to a pinball machine no one was playing. I took a deep breath. Maybe I was angry, but I wasn’t about to embarrass myself in front of everyone by crying or screaming or something equally stupid.
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and faced Natasha.
“First of all, I’m sorry about today. With the spit valve. It was an accident.”
“Okay.” I could tell by her smirk that she didn’t believe me. “Is that all?”
“No.” Steeling myself, I took a deep breath. “Why were you talking to Aaron just now?”
Natasha shrugged. “Why not?”
“I just think it’s kind of weird,” I said slowly, “considering you’ve never mentioned him before. Did Julia tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
Stop playing dumb, I wanted to scream. But I kept my voice calm. “That I . . . you know. Did she tell you I like him?”
Natasha chewed her bottom lip. “Do you?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Do you? Or are you just flirting with him to make me mad?”
Her mouth fell open. I was kind of surprised I said it, too. But I kept my face neutral. After a second, Natasha closed her mouth. Then she smiled.
“Jeez, Holly.” Her tone was different, suddenly. She was talking to me like I was five years old, and it was making the thudding in my ears even louder. “You really don’t like competition, do you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Be honest.” Natasha examined her fingernails, which were the exact same shade of pink as her dress. “You’ve been acting a little weird since the whole chair-test thing. It really bothers you that I beat you, doesn’t it.”
It wasn’t a question. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“That’s why you’re always on my case in band,” she continued, wearing an expression of mock sympathy. “Trying to suck up to Mr. Dante, pointing out every mistake I make.”
“Me?” A few kids by the air-hockey table glanced over at us, and I lowered my voice. “You’re the one who—”
“That’s why you emptied your spit valve on my shoe.” She shook her head sadly. “Come on, Holly. No way was that an accident. Everyone knows it.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“And now we’re at a party,” Natasha went on, “and all I do is talk to some guy, and you jump all over me!”
I could not believe this. She was twisting everything around, making it seem like this was all my fault. I mean, maybe she was right about the shoe thing. But she started all this. I finally found my voice.
“The only reason you’re acting all interested in Aaron is—”
“What? Is he your boyfriend or something?” she interrupted, and I hated myself for blushing.
“No.”
“Then I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Really.” I forced myself to speak slowly. “So you didn’t do it just to try to make me jealous.”
“Nope.”
“So you’re saying you like
Aaron.”
She paused. “Maybe I do.”
We glared at one another. After a moment, I broke the silence.
“Tell me the truth. Did Julia tell you I like him?”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “What does Julia have to do with this?”
“Everything!” I exploded. “She’s never told anyone any of my secrets, ever. So if she told you, you must have . . . tricked her, or something.”
“Tricked her?” Natasha laughed. “You know, you’re not the only friend Julia has. We tell each other everything, too.”
“Please,” I snapped. “So you spent two weeks at band camp together. Big deal. Julia’s been my best friend since third grade and—”
I stopped, because suddenly all I could think about was what Julia would say if she could see Natasha and me fighting right now. Taking a deep breath, I started over.
“Look. Maybe we just need to—to call a truce, or something.”
Natasha raised an eyebrow. “A truce?”
Another eruption of cheers from the air-hockey table caused us both to look over. A few kids were patting Brooke on the back, while the rest wandered off to other games. I turned back to Natasha.
“Yeah, a truce,” I said. “Julia wouldn’t want—”
“Hey!”
The words caught in my throat, because Aaron had materialized at my side. Between that and arguing with Natasha, my bones suddenly felt like rubber.
“Hi!” Natasha and I both said at the same time. Aaron smiled at both of us, and I noticed he was holding two air hockey mallets.
“You said you wanted to try a game, right?” he said to Natasha. “Brooke’s done beating all of us now, so . . . want to play?”
Natasha looked at me for a second. Then she smiled.
“I’d love to.”
Without another word to me, they headed to the table together.
My entire body felt numb. I stood there for about three seconds before a familiar burning started behind my eyes.
Nope. I was not crying at the band party, not with Natasha and Aaron and everyone else right there. Blinking furiously, I shoved my way past a few kids trying to play some race-car game. I was vaguely aware of someone calling my name, but all I cared about was getting to the door before the tears started—I didn’t want to talk to Gabby or anyone else. I was almost there when a hand touched my arm.
“What?” I yelled, swiveling around. Owen took a step back, blinking so rapidly it was kind of alarming.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I snapped. “What do you want?”
He glanced behind him uncertainly. “We’ve got an Alien Invaders tournament going on,” he said, and through the haze that was already starting in my eyes, I noticed Trevor and several others gathered around a game just inside of the arcade room. “It’s a lot like Prophets, I thought maybe you’d—”
“Not right now, Owen.” The tears were seconds from spilling over. I had to get outside. So when Owen started to say something else, I lost it.
“Look, I don’t care about some stupid video game—just leave me alone!”
I turned quickly and pushed through the exit. But not before seeing the hurt expression on Owen’s face.
When the door swung closed behind me, the silence was overwhelming. I walked half a block away from Spins before sinking down on the curb, pulling my knees into my chest, and crying.
Chapter
Sixteen
All weekend, I replayed my argument with Natasha in my head. When I woke up Monday morning, I was still angry. I was still hurt. I was still embarrassed. But at least I’d decided on one thing.
Forget the whole truce idea.
Sitting next to Natasha in band was just about as intolerable as “Labyrinthine Dances,” which Mr. Dante had still been rehearsing at a ridiculously slow tempo. After spending ten minutes on four tedious measures, we finally got to the second page. On the other side of Natasha, I heard Gabby groan softly.
“Saxes and clarinets,” said Mr. Dante, flipping a page in his score, “this section is all about you. Take a minute to finger through the part—everyone else, let’s hear measures eighty-four through ninety-five.”
I sighed inwardly. The horns had four measures of rest before we were supposed to play, and I counted through them silently while Mr. Dante conducted. Next to me, Natasha lifted her horn a measure early and played a few notes before realizing her mistake. She stopped, and Mr. Dante cut the band off.
I couldn’t see her, but I knew Natasha was just waiting for me to say something. I sat very, very still, staring at my lap. An ant crawled across my knee, and I flicked it off, wrinkling my nose.
“Four measures of rest, Natasha,” said Mr. Dante, and she blushed. “Trombones, we missed a few accidentals in there—Trevor, make sure you’re playing a C-sharp in measure eighty-six. Let’s try it again.”
I arranged my face into a neutral expression, even though inside I was doing a happy dance. Stupid, sure, but hey—I didn’t have much to be happy about today.
Julia and I had made up over the phone on Sunday. Sort of. I called her, we both said we were sorry, and she said she was stressed about history, and I said I was stressed, too. But I hadn’t told her about what happened at the band party.
Because I still hated Natasha, and Julia knew it, and she still liked Natasha, and I knew it. So our friendship wasn’t the same anymore. And obviously I wasn’t about to eat lunch with the two of them.
I didn’t think I could eat with Owen, either—not after I yelled at him like that. It was bad enough that I would have to sit with him in science. I couldn’t even look at him without remembering the expression on his face right before I’d run out of Spins.
So I told Julia I was practicing during lunch. And it was only a half lie—after I ate in the bathroom, I was planning on going to the practice rooms. (I’d so rather just eat there, but I wasn’t about to break Mr. Dante’s no-food rule.)
After we plodded through “Labyrinthine Dances” for another ten minutes, Mr. Dante asked us to take out “Galactic March,” one of the songs we were performing at the football game. “Thank God,” I heard Trevor mumble behind me.
“This one’s coming along nicely,” Mr. Dante said after we played it all the way through once. “Actually, I think we might be able to perform it at the pep rally Thursday.”
I slumped a little bit in my chair. The march had the horn solo, and I wanted to be the one playing it at the football game. But the chair test wasn’t until next week, so it looked like Natasha would be playing it Thursday. In front of the whole school. That would really help her ego.
“Holly, I’ll need you to play the solo at the pep rally.”
I stared at Mr. Dante blankly. He hadn’t just said that. He couldn’t have read my mind.
But next to me, Natasha was sitting up rigidly, her eyes wide. “Um, I . . . why?” she sputtered. Mr. Dante waved a slip of paper at her.
“Because you won’t be there,” he said. “Thursday afternoon is the first debate meet, right? Ms. Monroe notified your teachers that you, Leah, and Liam would be absent.”
“I thought we were supposed to be back by seventh period.” Natasha’s voice was weirdly high.
Liam Park spoke up from the tuba section. “They changed the start time of the meet from one thirty to two, remember? Ms. Monroe told us yesterday.”
Natasha looked devastated. I had to press my lips together tight to keep from smiling.
“Let’s run through this one more time,” Mr. Dante said. “Go ahead and give the solo a shot, Holly.”
“Okay!”
My stomach was all fluttery, which made it hard to play. The whole solo was sixteen measures, but the first measure was nothing but French horn—the whole band stopped playing. (I’d already marked it with a blue highlighter.) Halfway through the ma
rch, I heard a weird, raspy noise coming from the saxes. I was relieved and disappointed when Mr. Dante waved for us to stop playing.
“Gabby, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know!” Gabby was fiddling with her mouthpiece. “Something’s wrong, I can’t figure it out.”
Mr. Dante stepped off the podium. “Take your reed off,” he said, walking over to the end of our row. Gabby tried, making a face.
“My ligature’s stuck,” she said. Mr. Dante raised his eyebrows.
“You do know you’re supposed to clean your mouthpiece every day, Gabby,” he said. “Don’t you?”
I tried not to laugh as Gabby gave him an innocent look. “Maybe not every day.”
“Ew,” Natasha whispered, flicking an ant off her arm. Shifting in my chair, I peered at the floor and noticed another one making its way toward my sandals. Just as I kicked at it, Natasha shrieked.
“Oh my God!”
She leaped out of her chair and stumbled past me. Alarmed, I watched as Gabby half stood out of her chair, holding her mouthpiece far out in front of her. Tiny black specks scurried over her hand.
“Ants,” she said calmly. “There are ants in my saxophone.”
Chaos erupted. In front of Gabby, Sophie and two flute players screamed and ran to the front of the room; behind me, Trevor yelled, “Awesome!” and climbed over Natasha’s chair to see. I hovered over my chair, torn between wanting to get a look and moving as far away from the ants as possible.
Mr. Dante took Gabby’s sax and mouthpiece up to the podium and pulled out a spray bottle. “Back to your seats,” he said mildly, removing the ligature and spraying the mouthpiece. Gabby stood next to him, wiping her arm with a rag.
“So this,” he informed us, “is what happens when you don’t clean your instrument. And especially when you eat sugary stuff right before you play.” He gave Gabby a meaningful look before glancing up at the clock. “Go ahead and pack up for today. Gabby, go get your case and bring it over here. We’re going to have a cleaning lesson.”
In the cubby room, Natasha was still freaking out. “They were on my arm,” she moaned, rubbing her elbow. I waited until she left before rolling my eyes.
I Heart Band Page 9