by Pearl Love
To me that languished for her sake.
“These are the opening lines of one of Shakespeare’s most poignant love sonnets. Can anyone tell me what emotion he was trying to convey?”
Tyrell was careful not to make eye contact with Mrs. Brooks as she glanced around the classroom after reading the passage. He’d thought of the perfect answer, one he had no wish to share. Longing. Shattered hope. Despair. He realized now that he’d felt all those things when Jeremy had acknowledged him so dismissively that morning. If this “Love” Shakespeare had described had indeed ever made a pair of lips, surely they would resemble the pink bow of Jeremy’s.
Oh give me a break! Tyrell winced as the rebuke rang loudly in his head. What the hell was up with this fascination with Jeremy? Why did he even give a crap about the little twerp? He studiously ignored the whisper of his conscience telling him he was being unfair. But seriously the only lips he should be thinking about were Shaunteé’s. They were full and luscious and curved so beautifully when she gave him that sweet smile of hers.
Tyrell lowered his head into his hands. “I hate Shakespeare,” he mumbled under his breath. Band was definitely out now. Jeremy would be there and seeing him once a day in homeroom was more than enough.
So of course the first thing Tyrell focused on when he saw Jeremy the next period was his mouth. He couldn’t stop looking no matter how hard he tried. Ryan was talking with his usual verbosity, and Tyrell tried to respond where appropriate, but he just couldn’t stop staring at Jeremy. Even when Jeremy returned his ill-concealed regard with a puzzled frown, Tyrell just kept looking.
Damn it, Tyrell thought, his lips really are pink!
“What are you doing after school today?” Ryan asked. “Me and some of the guys from the team were thinking of going to the mall. They opened that retro arcade shop where you can go and play all the classic games for a flat fee. Isn’t that awesome?”
“Yeah, awesome,” Tyrell agreed vaguely. He might as well go. His homework would get done eventually, and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do after classes were over. Nope, nothing at all.
The clatter of a book hitting the floor caught Tyrell’s attention, and he was bending down to pick it up before he could think better of it. The move was instinctual, prompted by years of training in good manners from his mother and Big Momma. The book clearly belonged to the person next to him, and the only one in that seat was….
“Uh, thanks.”
Tyrell didn’t look up as Jeremy voiced his appreciation. His gaze was glued to his fingers, which were currently wrapped around Jeremy’s fallen textbook. Of course, Jeremy hadn’t been idle in recovering his property. He had reached for the book at the same time as Tyrell, though Tyrell had been a half second faster. The result was that Jeremy’s hand had ended up on top of Tyrell’s as he’d grabbed for his book. Tyrell briefly considered just dropping the damn thing back onto the floor, but instead he flung it toward Jeremy’s desk, hoping it would land without skidding off the other slide.
“No problem.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tyrell saw Jeremy shrug off his terse response. It was obvious that, even after only a few days, Jeremy didn’t expect any better from him. Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, Tyrell doubled down on his previous conclusion. Best to avoid being in Jeremy’s company whenever possible. He took one final look before dismissing the kid forever from his thoughts only to stare all over again when he realized Jeremy was actually blushing.
Tyrell’s resolve might have held even after witnessing the soft color bloom in Jeremy’s cheeks if Cynthia hadn’t gleefully hammered home the last nail in his personal coffin. She’d been insisting Jeremy eat lunch with them since the previous Thursday, and Tyrell didn’t know why he’d thought that day would be any different. As usual, she’d caught Jeremy in the checkout line and had steered him over to the table where Tyrell was sitting with Ryan.
“How’ve your first couple of weeks been, Jeremy?” Cynthia somehow managed to smile while taking a healthy bite out of her Polish sausage. “You settling in okay?”
Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, everything’s been fine. Some of the classes are really hard, though. At least, harder than what I was used to at my last school.”
“Where’d you go before coming here?” Cynthia asked.
Jeremy paused a moment to enjoy his hamburger before answering. “River Vista. It’s in Irving Park.”
“Oh yeah! That’s a pretty good school. What made you leave?”
“Jeez, Cynthia,” Ryan said. “Nosy much?”
When Ryan, who no one would ever call sensitive to social niceties, said you were being boorish, then you were on the borderline of acting like a real ass. Jeremy was visibly uneasy with the direction of the conversation. Tyrell forced a smirk at Cynthia as she sputtered indignantly, desperately trying to pretend it didn’t matter to him whether Jeremy answered her or not.
“Okay, fine,” Cynthia said in a huff. “Well, what about family? Tyrell, Ryan, and I have known each other since we were kids, so they’re boring to me now. Do you have any siblings, Jeremy?”
Jeremy smiled, apparently feeling on more solid footing. “Uh-huh. I have three older sisters and brothers.”
Tyrell stared in awe as he noticed for the first time that Jeremy had the most adorable set of dimples he’d ever seen.
Seemingly immune to the dimples, Cynthia looked up at the ceiling as she considered the information. “So you’re the youngest of four?”
“Ah, no. I should have been clearer. I have three sisters and brothers… each.” Jeremy sat back, his lips crooked in amusement, obviously waiting for the imminent explosion.
“Holy shit, there’s seven of you?”
The outburst came unexpectedly from Ryan. Jeremy laughed, his dimples growing even deeper. Tyrell gaped unabashedly, captivated by both the sight and the lyrical sound.
“Yep, seven,” Jeremy confirmed. “Trust me, it can get pretty crazy at home. Including me, two of my sisters and one brother still live with my parents.”
Cynthia shook her head. “Incredible. There’s just me, my mom, and my sister, and we want to kill each other most of the time. I couldn’t imagine having that many people under one roof.”
“Your place must be huge.”
Jeremy shook his head as he looked at Ryan. “I wish. We live in an apartment in Lakeview. It definitely came to near homicide on many occasions when I was growing up. At least my oldest two siblings, Irina and Gabriel, are out of the house. Though you wouldn’t know it with how much Irina comes over.”
Tyrell smiled weakly as everyone else laughed. He hoped he didn’t look as deeply intrigued as he really was by the subject of Jeremy’s life away from school. Fortunately, Cynthia was a mind reader and asked the next question he would have if he hadn’t been pretending not to care.
“I’m guessing that pendant was a gift from one of your sisters?” Cynthia pointed toward the pretty blue stone hanging from Jeremy’s neck. “It’s really gorgeous. I meant to say so before.”
Jeremy’s mood changed so abruptly it was like someone had thrown a switch. As he glanced down at the pendant, his shoulders drooped as though they were carrying the weight of the world.
Cynthia picked up on his altered demeanor quickly and held up a placating hand. “Hey, look, never mind. Forget I asked.”
“No,” Jeremy said finally after a long, awkward silence. “It was, um….” He took a deep breath and looked up at them with a tiny smile. “It was a gift from my brother.”
Cynthia had clearly stepped onto a land mine with her inquisition, and she had the good sense to immediately back off. After making vague noises indicating her interest in Jeremy’s response, she quickly turned the focus to Ryan. She asked him when his next game was scheduled, and Ryan ran with the ball like the talented player he was. Tyrell listened to them with only half an ear. Mainly he watched Jeremy, who slowly finished his lunch in between picking halfheartedly at the food on his tray.
Tyrell had a fe
eling he knew what Jeremy was hiding. He recognized the expression of profound sadness that had darkened Jeremy’s face when Cynthia asked about the pendant. It was the same way he felt whenever he thought about his father, even after all these years. Whichever brother had given Jeremy the gift, Tyrell was almost certain he was no longer alive.
The music began softly this time, like the mournful hymns they played in church during a memorial service. The same song they’d played at his dad’s service. Of all the things they might have in common, Tyrell hated that it might be something so tragic.
By study period, Tyrell had completely given up. After asking around for a bit, he finally found Mr. Crabtree in the band room. His teacher was engrossed in reading something, but looked up shortly when Tyrell opened the door.
“Ah, Mr. Hughes. What can I do for you this afternoon?”
Tyrell thought better of it for a millisecond before pushing through, knowing that if he didn’t do this, he might regret it for the rest of his life.
“Mr. Crabtree, I’d like to accept your offer to audition for band.”
Chapter THIRTEEN
“HI, JEREMY.”
Jeremy ruthlessly suppressed a wince as he looked up and met Patricia’s gaze. He had barely arrived for rehearsal and was in the process of assembling his clarinet. She was making a habit of catching him when he was preparing his reed, and he had to remove the thin rectangular piece of wood from his mouth so he could speak. “Hey, Patricia.” When she just continued to smile at him, he raised a questioning eyebrow. “Did you need something?”
Her smile never dimmed, though her cheeks grew pink. “No, I just wanted to say hi. And, um….”
Jeremy waited with a sinking feeling as Patricia looked down and clasped her hands demurely in front of her. She was wearing a light pink corduroy dress with suspenders, complete with white tights and black Mary Janes. Her bright red hair was secured in two braids that lay forward over her shoulders. She looked like a grade-school student, and Jeremy wondered uncharitably why she’d let her grandmother dress her.
“I was wondering,” Patricia finally continued, “if you wanted to grab a snack after practice. With me.”
Crap. Jeremy forced his lips into a smile as he scrambled for a suitable response. He had no ill feelings toward Patricia—heck, he’d only known her for a few days—but he didn’t want to give her any false hopes. Neither was he particularly interested in coming out to her after such a short acquaintance.
“I’m sorry, Patricia, but I can’t. I have, uh, a really nasty chemistry assignment I need to finish by tomorrow morning.” Jeremy sent a silent word of thanks to his teacher, Mr. Markham, that he hadn’t had to lie about all the homework he had to do that evening. He declined to give the polite follow-up of “maybe another time” since he was trying to be honest with her.
Patricia’s expression dimmed. “Oh, okay, then. Maybe later would work better for you.”
Jeremy smiled but didn’t nod.
“Okay, people, let’s get started.”
Mr. Crabtree’s customary greeting had never been so welcome. Patricia retreated to her seat in the flute section after giving Jeremy one final, hopeful look. Jeremy groaned under his breath. Apparently he needed to kick his carefully maintained aura of “oddball” up a notch. He honestly had never expected that he might actually catch a girl’s attention, even though Monica and Irina told him constantly how handsome he was. A mother and sister were never to be believed about these sorts of things.
They were still working on the New World Symphony, so rehearsal went fairly smoothly. Jeremy wasn’t certain what made him glance toward the percussion section during a lull in the first clarinet part. Tina was still putting in an uninspired performance on the snare drum, but when Jeremy saw the guy standing behind her looking over her shoulder, he nearly swallowed his own tongue.
What in the hell was Tyrell doing there? Jeremy stared at his homeroom classmate in disbelief. Tyrell hadn’t been in the room when he’d arrived, so he must have come while Patricia was distracting him with her awkward offer. Only because Jeremy was so familiar with his part did he know when to start playing again. Even while he flawlessly produced the required notes, he could barely drag his attention away from the back of the room.
Other than the obvious surprise at Tyrell’s unexpected presence at band rehearsal, Jeremy wasn’t sure why he was so flustered. While he wouldn’t say that he and Tyrell had become friends or anything, they had reached a truce of sorts thanks to Cynthia’s relentless efforts to include him in her circle of friends. To be fair, he hadn’t had any negative interactions with Tyrell since their encounter on the bus the first day of school. Still, Jeremy couldn’t help feeling uncertain around him. The look of disgust on Tyrell’s face that morning had been unmistakable even though he’d never seen it again. Jeremy thought he should probably just forget about it, but his natural tendency to avoid difficult situations was a hard habit to break.
Throughout rehearsal, Jeremy kept glancing back toward the drummers. For the first half of practice, Tyrell merely sat and watched Tina, but then, during a brief break while Mr. Crabtree addressed the saxophones, she handed him her sticks. Tyrell shot her a look of obvious panic when she stepped aside so he could reach the snare, but she merely grinned at him and patted him on the back.
Jeremy watched Tyrell’s shoulders move up and down as he took a deep breath. He had no idea what to expect, but when the teacher signaled for them all to start playing again, Tyrell brought the sticks down onto the drumhead with unexpected confidence.
“Whoa,” Jeremy mumbled around his mouthpiece. He actually forgot to play for an entire line of his sheet music as he watched Tyrell attack the snare drum like he’d been performing for years instead of minutes. Tyrell wasn’t actually looking at the music sitting on the stand in front of him. Rather, his eyes were closed, and if Jeremy hadn’t known any better, he’d have thought Tyrell was playing by ear. Having heard the snare drumline for the piece a dozen times, Jeremy noticed Tyrell wasn’t missing a single beat. He continued to watch until Tyrell suddenly opened his eyes and stared directly at him. He gasped, mortified at being caught looking, and fixed his attention on Mr. Crabtree where it belonged.
Jeremy spent the remainder of rehearsal in a daze. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Tyrell had even come to practice in the first place, let alone deal with the reality of how effortlessly talented he’d been. Jeremy realized that Mr. Crabtree had dismissed them for the afternoon only when the other first clarinet players began packing away their instruments. After shaking his head to clear it, he began to do likewise. He stood and placed his case on his chair in order to more easily stow the pieces of his clarinet as he disassembled it. The sensation of being watched was becoming familiar if no less annoying, and he turned, expecting to find Patricia standing there. Instead, he gaped as he met Tyrell’s gaze.
“What’s up?”
Jeremy forced his jaw to stop scraping the floor. “Uh, not much. What are you doing here?” he blurted out, fed up with the mystery.
Tyrell shrugged. “Mr. Crabtree asked me to try out for percussion, so I did and made it. Look, I, um….” He inhaled deeply, and then let out his breath in a heavy whoosh. “I’m sorry about the way I acted on the bus the other day. If I made you feel uncomfortable or unwelcome, I didn’t mean to. It’s just, well, you’re a weird dude, you know?”
Jeremy’s heart fluttered at the shy grin that lit Tyrell’s handsome face. Seriously? He berated himself for his reaction, though he couldn’t ignore it. He’d never denied Tyrell’s physical appeal, and he worried what might become of him if Tyrell turned out not to be the jerk he’d appeared to be until now. For half a second, Jeremy considered making a big deal out of the obvious disdain Tyrell had expressed toward him but then decided to just let it go. His mother and sister were right. Having friends could only be a good thing.
“Yeah, I know,” Jeremy replied with a chuckle, unable to refute the charge. After al
l, he’d put a lot of effort into cultivating his outsider persona. “You were, uh, really good. How long have you been playing?” He snapped his clarinet case shut and turned to give Tyrell his full attention.
“Me? I’ve never played drums before. Well, not unless you count air drumming. With my hands,” Tyrell clarified when Jeremy looked at him in confusion.
Jeremy shook his head. “No kidding? Wow. You’re a real natural, then.”
Tyrell shrugged again, this time with only one shoulder. “I guess. So what about you? How long have you played the clarinet?”
“Over ten years.” Jeremy smiled when Tyrell’s eyes widened in surprise. “My parents were big into fostering ‘artistic expression’ in their children.” He crooked his fingers in air quotes.
“Ah-ha,” Tyrell said with a chuckle, imbuing the words with shared teenaged exasperation.
“Anyway, one of my brothers played, and I naturally followed in his footsteps. He was only a little upset when I chose the clarinet instead of the trumpet.”
“The same brother who gave you your pendant?”
Jeremy blinked at the insightful question. He hadn’t realized Tyrell had been paying such close attention to his explanation at lunch the previous day. “Uh, yeah,” he said, hoping Tyrell wouldn’t ask more questions on that sensitive topic.
Fortunately, Tyrell took the hint. “That’s cool. I have a little brother. Kevin. He plays baseball and is pretty good.” His expression softened. “I give him a hard time for being so hardcore about it, but I’m really proud of him.”
Tyrell was simply full of unexpected dimensions, as if he were purposely trying to undermine Jeremy’s efforts to stay neutral on the topic of his new bandmate.
“I like the way everyone sounded playing that song together,” Tyrell continued. “I’ve never been to a concert or anything like that except for choir performances at my mom’s church. Did you play at your old school? River Vista, right?”
Again, Jeremy was stunned by how many details Tyrell recalled. “Uh, yeah. I really like playing in ensembles. When I found out Mr. Crabtree was both my homeroom teacher and the band director, I was thrilled.”