Salvation's Song

by Pearl Love

  “So, are you going to ask Shaunteé to go with you?”

  Tyrell looked up from where he’d been tapping his fingers on his desk to the beat of a new Drake song he’d heard for the first time the other day. “What?”

  Ryan rolled his eyes. “You heard me. Shaunteé, the hottest girl in school. Are you going to ask her to the game?” He said each word slowly, overenunciating every syllable for maximum annoyance. “One of the guys on the team said the entire dance squad is planning to go.” Several members of the football team dated the girls on the squad, so Tyrell had no reason to doubt the veracity of Ryan’s gossip. Ryan slapped Tyrell on the arm. “Come on, man! It’s the perfect opportunity for you to get something going with her. Considering how she was all up in your face with those perfect teeth, I’m guessing she’d say yes.”

  Tyrell looked at Ryan askance. “Wasn’t she your captain’s girl? What about the bro code?”

  “Screw that. Jerald’s gone, off to the land of smokin’ college babes. I bet he hasn’t thought about Shaunteé all summer. Besides,” Ryan added with a knowing expression, “she’s the one who broke up with him right before graduation. I’m tellin’ you, man, she’s free and primed!”

  Before Tyrell could respond to that dubious assessment, the door opened and a middle-aged man entered the room. Realizing their teacher had arrived, the students who hadn’t yet taken their seats scrambled to do so.

  “Okay, people,” the man began, announcing the official beginning of class. After asking everyone to have a seat, he turned to the door and spoke softly to someone who was apparently waiting outside. “I’m Mr. Crabtree,” the man continued after the kid he’d been speaking to followed his instruction to enter. “I’m the band director, so if you already know me, great. If you don’t, all I ask is that we employ a policy of mutual respect. Do that, and we’ll get through the year just fine.”

  Mr. Crabtree glanced around and smiled, ostensibly satisfied with the nonverbal response he received to his policy announcement. “Okay, then. I have a new student to introduce. This is Jeremy Michalak,” he said, waving a hand in the new kid’s direction. “This isn’t an AA meeting, so I’ll spare everyone the group hello. Jeremy, go on and find your seat. They’re alphabetical, so it looks like you’ll be in the third row.”

  Tyrell heard the teacher’s announcement of the transfer student’s name and absently remembered having read it on the card sitting atop the desk next to his. But the majority of his attention was occupied with examining the new kid with a sense of shocked dismay.

  No fucking way!

  Though he’d largely put the incident on the bus that morning out of his mind, deep down, a sense of embarrassment lingered in him at the way he’d behaved. Though they hadn’t exchanged a word, Tyrell knew he hadn’t even tried to hide the frankly hateful thoughts that had flitted through his mind when he’d gotten an eyeful of the strange blond kid.

  Tyrell knew the instant the new kid—Jeremy—saw him because his pink lips turned down in a frown an instant before his green gaze skittered away like he’d been burned. Tyrell felt like a total asshole, and he gritted his teeth, angry at the guy for making him feel that way. His glare was defensive as he stared at the kid even though he knew full well his ire was completely unjustified. After all, he was the one who’d fired the opening salvo on the bus.

  In the next second, all the anger drained from him in a rush. Regret swiftly replaced every bit of meanness that had been in his head. Big Momma would have been ashamed of him. Hadn’t she always encouraged him to practice the Golden Rule? It was ironic that Mr. Crabtree had basically reiterated the very same principle only moments before.

  Jeremy kept his head bowed as he worked his way down the aisle to his seat, though whether it was out of a general shyness or merely to avoid having to look at him, Tyrell wasn’t certain. Either way, the pointed evasion only made him feel worse. It couldn’t have been easy being a transfer student, and Tyrell felt awful for making the kid’s day worse than it already probably was.

  When Jeremy finally sat down, his odd hair bounced around his shoulders for a moment before settling in a perfect arrangement of spiral ringlets. Tyrell noticed that Ryan had turned to stare at the kid like he wasn’t sure exactly what he was seeing. Tyrell knew the feeling, though only one descriptor was running through his head right then as he surreptitiously studied his new classmate. Gorgeous.

  Tyrell sat heavily back in his seat. It was going to be a long year.

  “OKAY, PEOPLE. Everyone should have their class schedule figured out by now, so that’s it for today. Photographers are set up at the back of the auditorium to take ID pictures. Hopefully I’ll have them for you tomorrow morning. After you’ve had your picture taken, find a seat in the auditorium so you can listen to the words of our illustrious leader, Principal Turnbull.”

  A chorus of groans and snickers answered Mr. Crabtree’s announcement, but the students gathered up their belongings and began to file out of the classroom without further protest. Jeremy remained seated, trying to figure out how his day had gotten off to such a spectacularly bad start. His entire body felt sore from how stiffly he’d been holding himself while the teacher helped them sort out their schedules for the year. As Ms. Simonds had briefly explained, juniors were allowed to stray from any sort of preset curriculum and pursue those classes that best fit their future plans for college or whatever lay beyond graduation.

  Jeremy was grateful he wasn’t the only one new to that concept. Mr. Crabtree had been busy all period answering questions and explaining how to make the best use of the scheduling grid, but that was the only part of homeroom Jeremy hadn’t found stressful. Of all the rotten luck, his assigned seat was next to tall, dark, and jerky. He’d spent the entirety of the class period trying to ignore his neighbor, as well as the brown-haired kid sitting in front of Mr. Jerky, who kept throwing him semiconfused looks at regular intervals.

  Figuring he might as well know his enemy, Jeremy had glanced at their name tags shortly after taking his seat. Ryan Gage and Tyrell Hughes. He wasn’t sure what the knowledge gained him, except that he’d know what names to report when they inevitably cornered him in the boy’s bathroom for his hazing initiation. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d received such a welcome as the unwanted new kid.

  “Mr. Michalak?” Mr. Crabtree waited until he had Jeremy’s attention. “You’re free to go home after you take your ID photo and attend the assembly, but I’m afraid both are mandatory. Do you need help finding the auditorium?”

  “Oh,” Jeremy said, realizing for the first time that he and Mr. Crabtree were completely alone. “No, sorry. I’ll find it.”

  Mr. Crabtree smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to straightening up the mounds of paper on his desk. He had taken a copy of each student’s schedule once they were finalized, which he’d explained he would file with the office so the staff could input them into the computer system. He looked up again, apparently noticing that Jeremy had only gotten as far as the edge of his desk.

  “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Uh, yeah. I don’t know if you remember that I put band down as my humanities class.”

  Mr. Crabtree smiled. “Of course. I look forward to having you. If I recall….” He paused and shuffled through the papers until he came across Jeremy’s. “That’s right, you signed up for the advanced class. It concentrates as much on music theory as performance. Though not required, it helps if you’re already proficient in an instrument, which I take it you are?”

  Jeremy nodded as he began to relax. Talking about his favorite topic never failed to have a soothing effect on his nerves. “Yes, I’ve been playing clarinet since I was five.”

  “Really?” Mr. Crabtree’s eyes lit up with interest. He ran his fingers through his thinning red hair, and Jeremy guessed it was an unconscious attempt to increase the effectiveness of his comb over. “That’s excellent! I could use a good first chair in the concert band. Where did you s
tudy? At your former school?”

  “Well, I’ve been in one school band or other since the fifth grade, but I also took lessons at Sherwood.”

  “Ah, yes! I taught piano there for several years. I’m surprised we never ran into each other.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “I haven’t gone there since the beginning of eighth grade.” That had been when he’d transferred schools the first time, and his mother had begun her campaign to keep him as close to home as possible for fear that trouble would follow him into other aspects of his life.

  Mr. Crabtree smiled sadly. “That’s too bad, but at least you’ve kept playing. That’s what’s important.”

  “Yeah, so I wondered what I needed to do to join the concert band,” Jeremy inquired. “Is there an audition?”

  “Yes, but it’s not too stringent.” Mr. Crabtree grinned. “I’m more than happy to take any student who has the aptitude. The audition is more for chair position than anything else. So,” he continued, dropping his voice as though he were soliciting secret information, “who’s your favorite clarinet player?”

  Jeremy answered without hesitation. “Benny Goodman.”

  Mr. Crabtree’s delighted laughter cracked through the room. “Excellent answer, young man. Though I wouldn’t necessarily have pegged you for the jazz type.” He meaningfully eyed the picture of Bach on Jeremy’s T-shirt.

  Jeremy shrugged and smiled shyly. “What can I say? I saw that biopic about him when I was a little kid, and it was love at first riff.”

  “You managed to actually get something out of that snooze fest of a film? I’m impressed!” Mr. Crabtree chuckled as Jeremy shot him an offended glare, which he was only partially faking. “Let’s see, you have band right before Algebra II. That’s good.” Mr. Crabtree smiled. “You know they say the ability to comprehend music and math are inextricably linked in the human brain.”

  Jeremy nodded. “Yes, that’s why I chose to schedule my classes that way.” It was his turn to smile serenely when Mr. Crabtree blinked at him in surprise. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Um, when are auditions?”

  To his credit, Mr. Crabtree recovered quickly from his bemusement. “Tomorrow after school. I’ll start at 3:00 p.m. sharp, so be sure to give yourself enough time to get warmed up. I’ll let everyone pick their instruments out of the school’s collection tomorrow. You can do so during class.”

  “No need,” Jeremy said as he picked up his book bag and swung it over his shoulder. “I have my own.”

  “Ah, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  Mr. Crabtree glanced back at the papers he was organizing, but Jeremy paused, considering whether it would be prudent to open this can of worms now or to wait until whatever problems were going to arise, in fact, did so. After a moment’s consideration, he decided that prevention—or at least awareness—would serve him best.

  “Um, Mr. Crabtree.”

  The teacher looked up again. “Hmmm?”

  Jeremy nervously scuffed his gym shoes against the linoleum. “Does this school have any problems with bullying?”

  Mr. Crabtree frowned and fixed his gaze fully on Jeremy. “I’d love to say no, but I’m sure there are incidents we teachers never hear about.” He sighed, clearly regretful of that reality. “But I’m happy to say I’m not aware of anything particularly egregious occurring in the four years I’ve worked here.”

  “Well,” Jeremy rushed, realizing he’d get nowhere by being vague, “really I’m asking whether there has been any… you know… homophobic bullying.”

  “I see.” Mr. Crabtree sat back in his seat and folded his hands in his lap. “I take it you’re asking from prior experience? That’s why you transferred here?”

  Jeremy nodded silently.

  Mr. Crabtree sighed heavily. “Again, Jeremy, while I’d love to be able to tell you no, I’m not privy to everything that happens at this school when no teachers are watching. But please feel free to come to me if you ever need to talk about anything. We band geeks need to stick together, right?”

  His smile was subdued but encouraging, and Jeremy found himself returning it. Jeremy felt moderately better for having tackled the topic head-on and receiving at least the promise of support.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  When Jeremy finally left the classroom, the hallway beyond the door was mostly empty. Figuring most of the students were already in the auditorium, he made his way to the stairwell. He remembered seeing a sign for the assembly hall when he’d been looking for the administrative office and recalled it was on the first floor. When he reached the double doors that led into the stairwell, he swung one open and started for the stairs, preparing to take them at his preferred breakneck speed. Before he could hit the top step, he heard low voices and stumbled when he saw he wasn’t alone.

  A couple stood off to the side out of the way of the stairs, engaged in what looked like a very particular conversation. Jeremy had been in high school long enough to know the beginnings of a teenage mating ritual when he saw one. He cleared his throat nervously, more in self-conscious apology than to make himself be noticed. Of course, the sound inevitably achieved the latter, and Jeremy found himself at the business end of dual stares from a very pretty girl with braids reaching down to her waist and Mr. Jerky from his homeroom.

  Tyrell Hughes.

  He was usually crap with names, so why had Tyrell’s stuck so firmly? Jeremy pondered the mystery as he swiftly resumed his previous course and thundered heedlessly down the stairs, not stopping to see whether he was still being watched. So what if Mr. Hottie Hughes had a girlfriend. He couldn’t have cared less if the captain of “insert sports team here” was dating the head cheerleader, or whatever.

  Nope, he didn’t give one iota of a shit.

  Chapter FIVE

  “GO, KENDALL, go, Kendall, go! Go, Kendall, go, Kendall, go!”

  Tyrell glanced at the scoreboard. With only thirty seconds of play left until halftime, the Tigers were trailing the Kendall Grizzlies by a touchdown and a field goal. The coach was trying out possible starting quarterbacks to replace the former captain, and the first of them clearly hadn’t found his groove yet. At least Ryan was playing really well. He hadn’t let Kendall complete a single running play. Unfortunately, his position didn’t allow him to have much effect against their rival’s devastating passing game. The combatants managed one more scrimmage before the clock expired on the first half of play.

  “That’s too bad. I heard Coach is putting in his other possible starter during the second half. Maybe he’ll have better luck.”

  Tyrell repressed the happy sigh that was trying its best to escape from his chest. Shaunteé had made the remark with her lips pressed close to his ear so she could be heard over the raucous home crowd. He’d snuck multiple glances at her during the game, and each time her expression showed that she was raptly focused on the action on field. Even so, she’d sat beside him with her leg and arm pressed firmly against his, although the late summer heat could only be described as oppressive. All in all, he was convinced this was shaping up to be the best day of his young life.

  After homeroom had let out, Tyrell had every intention of following his classmates directly to the auditorium. However, he’d spotted Shaunteé in the hallway right as he reached the stairwell. She’d smiled at him in a way that made his hormones sing. With Ryan’s challenge echoing in his ears, he’d asked her to go with him to the exhibition game before he was even aware what he was doing. To his delight, she’d agreed, and he spent all of five seconds on cloud nine before the reminder of his awful behavior that morning had suddenly appeared in the stairwell with them. The new kid, Jeremy, was there and gone in an instant, but it was long enough to bring up all the guilt Tyrell had been feeling since discovering the guy was in his homeroom.

  “Who was that?” Shaunteé had asked. “He sure has got some crazy hair.”

  Tyrell had mumbled something explanatory before thanking her again and telling her he’d meet up with her at
4:45 p.m. at the entrance to Kendall’s sports field. When he’d gotten to the auditorium, Jeremy was, fortunately, nowhere to be seen. Now, all his discomfort from earlier in the day had disappeared before the flirty brilliance of Shaunteé’s smile.

  Tyrell had decided he’d keep his distance from his new classmate as much as possible. Any hostility he’d felt toward Jeremy had swiftly dissipated, but neither did he want to make any particular connection with the transfer student. Even though he was satisfied with the internal truce he’d settled on, he still couldn’t quite shake the memory of those disquieting moments on the bus when he’d first experienced that unearthly music and those ridiculously green eyes.

  “Oh, looks like Kendall’s cheerleaders are doing a joint show with their marching band.”

  Tyrell glanced over at Cynthia, who was sitting on his other side, having come out to support Ryan along with him. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed she was looking past him, giving Shaunteé a long-distance glare.

  “I hear Kendall’s squad is really good,” Cynthia continued. “What do you think, Shaunteé? How do they stack up against our team?”

  Tyrell gritted his teeth, silently cursing Cynthia when Shaunteé’s beautiful hazel eyes flashed at the blatant goad.

  “You think they’re good?” she said, her voice fairly dripping with insincere sweetness. “I guess they might appear that way to the untrained eye. But I’ve been doing gymnastics and cheerleading since I was little. You see that girl at the end of the line?”

  She pointed to the far right of the staggered line the Grizzlies’ cheer squad had formed on the field. The cheerleaders had paired up and one member was standing on the shoulders of the other in each group.

  “Her form is all wrong. It looks like she’s barely keeping her balance up there. Watch. When she does her dismount, she’s going to land on her ass.”