by Pearl Love
Cynthia’s expression darkened with frustration. “Coach Simms said Sam’s toxicology report came back completely clean. I knew it would! Sam didn’t do drugs.” She glared around as though daring anyone to challenge her.
“That’s great, Cynthia,” Ryan said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “But then how did he die?”
“Was it a heart attack?”
Cynthia stared at Jeremy in surprise. “Yeah. How did you know that?”
Jeremy dropped his gaze down to his food and shrugged. “Just a guess.”
“Man, that’s crazy. So Sam and that girl died the same way?”
“What girl?” Cynthia asked. “The one from the game?”
Ryan bobbed his head up and down. “Yeah! They found her under the bleachers dead of a heart attack. I mean what are the odds?”
Tyrell notice that Jeremy was still staring at his food tray and then wondered why he was paying such close attention. He dragged his gaze away and fixed his attention on Cynthia. “Did Sam have any health problems?”
“No! He always took perfect care of himself.” She sniffed. “He told me he was planning to try out for the Olympics in a few years.”
“It might have been something even he didn’t know about,” Tyrell reasoned, voicing the thought he’d had after first hearing about Sam’s death.
Cynthia paused for a moment before shaking her head. “No, he was fine. I’m sure of it. I can’t imagine what could have happened to him so suddenly.”
“That’s sucks about Sam, Cynthia,” Ryan said with uncharacteristic seriousness. “He was a good guy.”
They ate in silence, the heaviness of the morbid topic hovering over them and discouraging all but the most trivial conversation. About halfway through the period, Ryan pushed back from the table and stood.
“Can I get those notes from you, Tyrell? I promise I’ll return them to you before class.”
Tyrell fished his homework out of his backpack. He held them out of Ryan’s reach when Ryan went to grab them. “Where are you taking this?”
“The library,” Ryan explained, rolling his eyes. “Relax.”
Tyrell raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’d better not spill anything on my homework, Gage.”
Ryan vocalized his promise and departed after flipping Tyrell off with a cheerful grin. Jeremy chose that moment to stand, and Tyrell finally glanced back at him.
“Thanks for lunch, Jeremy,” Cynthia said.
Jeremy smiled shyly. “No problem. Thanks for the ice yesterday. I’m pretty sure you saved my life.”
Cynthia laughed at his deadpan delivery, and Tyrell felt a surge of gratitude toward Jeremy for distracting Cynthia from her sadness over Sam. Jeremy bent down to retrieve his book bag and a black medium-sized rectangular case from beneath his seat. Cynthia apparently noticed it at the same time Tyrell did.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at it. “Looks like an instrument case.”
Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, it’s a clarinet.”
“Did you join the marching band?”
“I might, but right now, I’m only in concert band.”
Tyrell listened closely to their exchange. After his conversation with his grandmother the previous evening, he had seriously considered accepting Mr. Crabtree’s offer to audition, but he had remained hesitant, uncertain whether he really wanted to be labeled with the title of “band geek.” Discovering that Jeremy was in the program, however, only added to his ambivalence.
“That’s cool,” Cynthia remarked. “I hope you’ll join us for lunch again, Jeremy. You’re welcome to anytime.”
Jeremy looked at her askance, but eventually shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Um, thanks again.” Grabbing up his tray, he glanced briefly at Tyrell, and then left them at the table.
“So what’s going on between you and Jeremy?”
Tyrell had put the last bite of sandwich in his mouth, and he coughed violently as it went down the wrong way. After taking a desperate swallow of his ginger ale, he sent Cynthia a dark frown. “What the hell are you talking about? I barely know him.” He coughed again and tried to breathe normally. “Today was only the second time I’ve even spoken to him.”
“Really? Then what was with all the clandestine looks between you two? I noticed the same thing yesterday at Carm’s.” Cynthia looked at him expectantly, her expression conspicuously neutral.
“You’ve lost it, Cyn. There were definitely no looks, clandestine or otherwise.”
She jabbed her straw in his direction. “You can’t fool me. You two kept looking at each other whenever you thought the other wouldn’t notice. Fine, keep your secrets,” she said loftily when he continued to glare at her.
“Crazy girl,” Tyrell mumbled, starting the process of gathering up his trash to keep her from voicing any more unnerving observations.
Though he’d die before admitting it, she was right. Even after he’d tried not to notice everything Jeremy did while they ate lunch, it was like he couldn’t stop himself. He was fascinated by the way a single ringlet fell forward over Jeremy’s shoulder whenever he’d leaned down to take a bite of his pizza, and the O of his lips as he sucked on his straw caused Tyrell to experience a strange antsy-ness he couldn’t explain. He’d only ever felt that way when he was around Shaunteé and was at a loss to explain why he’d reacted that way to Jeremy. His mind veered away instinctively from that land mine, but not before he broke out in a mildly panicked sweat.
“You all right?”
Damn Cynthia and her nosiness. Tyrell knew he was being unfair. Cynthia was a born nurturer, and she was always the first to offer to take care of a friend in need. He just wished she was less observant on this particular occasion.
“I’m fine. It’s hot as hell in here, don’t you think?” He pulled his shirt away from his skin and fanned himself with the fabric. “Autumn needs to hurry up and get here.”
“You said it,” she replied.
Tyrell sighed in relief at successfully distracting her. Cynthia followed his lead and grabbed her things in preparation to leave since their lunch period was almost over. He had Physics next and needed to stop by his locker to get his textbook. He had put the subject of Jeremy completely out of his mind when Cynthia abruptly brought him up again.
“Jeremy looked a lot better today, don’t you think? I simply love his hair. It’s so cute! My sister would kill to have curls like that.” Cynthia chuckled evilly. “She nearly burned her hair off with a curling iron once trying to achieve that effect. I’ll have to ask him what product he uses.”
Tyrell refrained from commenting, not wanting to encourage her, although he silently agreed that Jeremy’s unusual style was very becoming on him. And she was right Jeremy looked far healthier today than he had the last time they’d seen him. Tyrell couldn’t help but wonder what that had been about. He had no reason to doubt the story Jeremy told them about rushing to meet his sister, but something about it didn’t sit right. Jeremy hadn’t seemed harried. He’d looked terrified. Of that Tyrell was certain, no matter what Jeremy insisted. Not that it was any of his concern, but he couldn’t suppress the need he’d felt both then and now to help Jeremy with whatever had been bothering him.
Tyrell groaned under his breath. Cynthia and her insinuations were getting to him. Jeremy might sit next to him in homeroom, but that was as far as their acquaintance went. If Cynthia wanted to make friends with the new kid, he wouldn’t stop her, but that didn’t mean he had to join her welcoming committee. In that instant Tyrell made up his mind what he would do about Mr. Crabtree’s offer to join the band. He’d tell the guy thanks, but no thanks. Extracurriculars had never been his scene, and he didn’t see any reason to change that philosophy at this point in his life—no matter how peculiarly insistent his grandmother had seemed about the possibility.
“Hey, Tyrell. Your girlfriend is trying to get your attention.”
He didn’t have to ask Cynthia who she meant. She reserved that particularly nasty tone for one per
son. He glanced in the direction of her nod and saw Shaunteé giving him a nonchalant wave from where she was sitting with other members of the dance squad. Two days ago, he’d have tripped over his feet at the fact she was acknowledging him in such a public manner. Shaunteé was one of the most popular girls at Winton Yowell, and as a result, every little thing she did was subject to the highest level of scrutiny by the student body. Calling him out like this was sure to up his cred with his peers.
Only, Tyrell suddenly found that he didn’t really care. Or rather, he didn’t care as much as he probably should have considering how much he liked her. He smiled back, admiring the tight fit of her blouse as he passed her table. He didn’t, however, go over to talk to her, instead continuing on his way out of the cafeteria. He was, after all, in a hurry. His Physics teacher was assigning tables that day, and he wanted to make sure he got a prime seat as near the back of the room as possible. Cynthia glanced up at him curiously but fortunately said nothing. Tyrell didn’t find the smirk that curved her lips at all comforting.
Chapter ELEVEN
JEREMY GLANCED at the clock and sighed as he saw the minute hand in exactly the same place it had been the last time he’d looked. The second hand ticked along merrily, but he swore the clock must be broken.
“This curve explains the intersection of supply and demand, which is the basis of our market economy.”
The teacher might as well have been speaking Greek for all Jeremy understood her. He’d had to take a humanities subject, and Modern Economics had been the only thing that fit in his schedule. He made a note to check out that Wall Street for Dummies book he’d seen at the library. Reinforcements were called for if he didn’t want to fail this stupid class. Jeremy risked another look at the clock, and took heart that the end of the period was at last within reach.
“Okay, that’s it for today. Read the remainder of chapter one for homework, and tomorrow we’ll begin the section on the stock market.”
The bell sounded like the singing of angels when it finally rang. Jeremy wasn’t the only one to jump up from his seat as though it were on fire, but he was the first one out of the room. Econ was his last class of the day, and he was anxious to begin his after-school activity. Choosing the seat closest to the door had been the best idea he’d had all day. Unlike his brilliant decision to accept Cynthia’s invitation to lunch.
Jeremy was still frustrated with himself for not being able to think of an excuse to get out of it. He hadn’t honestly believed her when she’d mentioned it the day before after their embarrassing encounter at that Italian sub shop. He’d thought she was merely being polite, if insincere, when she offered that he sit with her and her friends at lunch. But she’d caught up with him right when he’d been about to pay the cashier and reminded him with a friendly smile about his promise to buy her lunch. Refusing would have been beyond rude considering the favor she’d done him, so he’d agreed and found himself trailing after her as she walked through the cafeteria in search of a table. He’d planned to eat alone on the grass behind the main building. Instead he ended up sharing lunch with the one person he’d made it his mission to avoid at all costs. If only fate didn’t seem equally determined to force them together at every opportunity.
Jeremy supposed the encounter could have gone much worse. If he were being honest with himself, the experience hadn’t been all that unpleasant. He genuinely liked Cynthia. She was a very nice person, the type who made friends easily and kept them through the sheer force of her bubbly personality. That Ryan guy seemed like a dumb jock, but had been content to mostly ignore Jeremy like he did in homeroom.
As for Tyrell, he’d seemed completely surprised to see Jeremy, if his near-death experience had been any indication. But otherwise he’d been perfectly considerate if reserved. Jeremy had noted Tyrell’s reluctance to look in his direction, but maybe he simply thought staring was rude. Jeremy had been similarly hesitant to let his gaze linger on Tyrell, though he’d caught himself doing so more than once.
He couldn’t help it. Tyrell was gorgeous. Sure he was skinny like most guys their age, but his tall frame boasted wiry, lean muscles that were probably waiting impatiently for a surge of hormones to show their full potential. His skin was unusually clear for someone in the grips of puberty, and Jeremy almost wanted to ask what type of face cleanser he used to prevent the annoying breakouts that so frequently vexed him. Mostly, though, it was Tyrell’s eyes. They were a fairly unremarkable brown, but for some reason Jeremy couldn’t help feeling that whenever Tyrell looked at him, he missed nothing. It was like he could see every secret Jeremy had ever wanted to hide. The sensation was uncanny and only reinforced Jeremy’s decision to keep any interaction between them as brief and superficial as possible. He’d nearly succeeded during lunch when the conversation had taken a strange turn.
Naturally, Jeremy was sorry about the odd deaths of Cynthia’s teammate, Sam, and that girl from Kendall High. The loss of two people so close to his age was an undeniable tragedy. The circumstances of their deaths, however, had hit a little too close to home for comfort, and Jeremy shivered again at how the news had affected him. He’d nearly given himself away by guessing how they’d died if the closeness with which Tyrell had watched him afterward had been any indication. He’d need to be more careful lest he accidentally reveal far more about himself than he intended.
The hallways had begun to clear out by the time Jeremy reached his destination, the rest of the student body already heading home or to their own after-school clubs. He felt the tension of the day leave his shoulders as he entered the band room. It greeted him like an old friend, and he realized how much he’d missed being here. He had band as a class, so he’d already been in the room once earlier that day. Taking a music theory class, however, was different from being part of a performing ensemble.
A few others of his new bandmates had already arrived and more entered as Jeremy found his seat. Mr. Crabtree had placed name tags on the music stands to indicate everyone’s places. He’d given Jeremy the number one seat in the clarinet section, first row immediately to the teacher’s left. Although he’d been confident of his skills and had been told as much after his audition, Jeremy still felt a surge of pride at having secured the coveted spot.
Jeremy opened his case, and removed the reed before promptly sticking it in his mouth to moisten it. His old instructor had teasingly called it the “woodwind lollipop.” Jeremy had always thought it was a stupid joke, though it didn’t stop him from mentally referring to the reed in the same way. He set the case on his chair and had taken out the pieces to begin assembling the clarinet when he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. At first he thought he might be experiencing a repeat of his paranoid delusions from the previous day. He spun around, but instead of the mysterious blond figure, he saw only a friendly smile. Jeremy blinked in surprise when he realized the smile belonged to the same redheaded flute player he’d seen after his audition.
“Hi, I’m Patricia Johnston. First chair, second flute.”
Jeremy gingerly removed the reed from his mouth, hoping he wasn’t trailing saliva as he did so. “Uh, Jeremy Michalak. First chair, first clarinet.”
“So I see.” Patricia giggled, glancing meaningfully toward Jeremy’s seat. “Congrats, by the way.”
He returned her smile tentatively. “Thanks. So, uh….” He racked his brain for something to say. He despised making small talk, something Chris had always teased him about. Chris had long taken the role of social fixer where Jeremy was concerned, and he suddenly missed his brother even more than he usually did. “How, um, long have you been playing?”
“At Winton Yowell? Since freshman year. I’m a sophomore.”
Jeremy shook his head. “No, I mean when did you begin with the flute?”
Patricia’s laugh was as pretty and delicate as she was. She flushed when she realized her mistake, the pink color appearing easily beneath her fair complexion. “Oh, since I was six. I was in Suzuki.”
�
�Oh, yeah?” Jeremy began to relax as the conversation reached comfortable footing. “I started when I was really little too. I used to take classes at Sherwood.”
“That’s cool! I never got the chance. My mom thought private lessons were too expensive.”
Jeremy nodded in sympathy, not bothering to tell her that he’d actually attended on a rare scholarship. Having seven children certainly hadn’t left his parents with a lot of spare money, though they’d tried to indulge him and his siblings whenever possible. He’d been lucky to have had the opportunity to pursue his hobby without burdening his parents.
“So, first chair,” Patricia continued. “You must be pretty good.”
Jeremy chuckled self-effacingly. “Well, good enough, or at least Mr. Crabtree thought so.”
“He would know. The ensemble here is pretty amazing. We even won a regional concert band competition last year!” Patricia’s smile broadened, revealing straight white teeth. Jeremy wondered briefly if she’d worn braces at some point in the past. “I’m really looking forward to hearing you play, Jeremy. Even though I love the flute, I always did think the clarinet section is the heart of the band.”
Said no one ever. Jeremy kept the snarky thought to himself and merely returned her smile. She was obviously flirting with him, and he didn’t have the guts to tell her that she was wasting her time. Outing himself to a classmate hadn’t been on his to-do list for the day. Besides, he could almost hear Irina’s voice in his head, telling him that having friends wasn’t a bad thing. He hated when his sister was right.
“Yeah, thanks,” Jeremy replied. “The flute is very pretty, though.” He was happy that he didn’t have to lie about his opinion. He wasn’t a fan of high-pitched instruments in general, but at least it wasn’t a piccolo. Those things hurt his ears.
“Okay, people. Let’s settle down and get started.” Mr. Crabtree swept into the room and jogged down the steps to the floor.
“See you later,” Patricia whispered. She gave him a parting smile before turning to go back to her seat.