So, he’s not so much for the cuddly nice thing and I get why Denny and McDaniel have been talking so seriously about him. Well, I can keep up.
Oh, crap, Wade’s talking and I have the distinct feeling it’s directed at me.
“What do you think, Miss McCoy?”
* * *
CHAPTER SEVEN: Summer Montage
I think of anything to stall. I know if I give the wrong answer – and there are so many to give – I will inevitably end up doing push ups and invariably disappoint Denny. And Wade looks like the type who doesn’t go easy on anyone. Damn. The entire Line looks expectantly at me. Note to self: work on listening skills!
“Miss McCoy? While we’re still young?”
I mentally flip a coin and say confidently, “I think hell yes.”
I hold my breath and look for any signs Wade is going to explode in front of me. Apparently, I have chosen wisely, and he continues down the line pontificating about percussion.
There is absolutely zero messing around with Wade in charge. The collected drumline is a textbook definition of discipline. There is no talking and certainly no laughing. I can get why we would be all hard core when there are other drummers around, or even if we were with the rest of the band, but on the first morning of summer break?
Wade moves on to actually starting the warm up. He walks around, taking in everything with those intense dark brown eyes of his. Wade expects a lot and that’s why we’re one of the top drumlines in the state, or maybe the entire country? (I’m too afraid to ask, because I don’t want to offend anyone). Finally, the torture, er, rehearsal, ends and I let out a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Walking back towards the school, Denny looks at me and asks, “You still want in?”
I nod solemnly.
Stan says, “Thanks for not screwing up today, J.”
“Moi?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, ‘moi’, you know what I’m talking about.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say indignantly.
Stan and Denny exchange a look and start laughing. I trail after them, asking, “Seriously, what are you talking about?!”
We all end up in the percussion room, and I’m kind of bummed as I watch the group. They are all so easy with each other and I’m just not part of that, er, brotherhood, yet. I wonder how long it will take for me to be one of the team.
Laurel comes up and says, “Just give it time. Believe me, soon enough you’ll be wishing you weren’t quite so close to them.”
I look at her strangely, when one of the freshmen from her section comes up and says, “Hey Laurel?”
“What is it, Kyle?”
He burps in her face and we both bust up laughing.
Later in the summer, I pull up the file on my computer I sometimes use as a journal and start typing.
So…it’s been awhile. Maybe it’s best if I just condense this entry into easy to read list format:
1. Beans and Cornbread. The band practices are totally the highlight of my week. In addition to playing as much as we can, we have been busy working on our website and writing new songs. Sometimes we dream about what it would be like to make it big. Without knowing many people who attend Westlake, it’s been nice to make a few friends before the school year starts. And so what if the guys are like my weird step-brothers or something? Unlike Jared in Shorts, there is absolutely zero romantic interest within my current band. Anyway, we are hard at work on an album and always trying to scheme up ways to raise money for studio time.
2. Kat came to visit! I wish it would’ve been the other way around, but it was so good to see her. She even got to try on Quincy! I had fun showing her around a few of the sites, and it was good to have her physically in my life again. There is only so much you can chat about via Skype / texting.
3. Denny came home! It was right after Kat left so they didn’t get to meet, but it’s cool to have him around. He was on the road touring with DCI when he did something sort of serious to his left knee, which was enough to keep him off his feet and at home. During his recovery, he helped me practice and refine all the warm-ups.
4. Which brings me to Laurel… As much as I try to get her to interact with Denny, I cannot force her to actually come and hang out with us. I’m hopeful something will happen during band camp (countdown – 2 weeks!). Although…the more I hang out with both of them, the more I realize I’m not sure what a good fit they would be for each other.
5. Work! Doing what else? Teaching drum set! I’m a pretty inventive gal when it comes down to it, and it didn’t take long to realize that a) I will not wear a uniform to work – ever! and b) why not get paid for something I’m good at? Basically, I went to this cool secondhand music shop, Replay, and asked if I could put up a flyer offering my services and they were like “sure.” Now I have a bunch of students and I charge like $25 an hour ($15 for a half hour)! Not to mention, one of my students is like a super cutie…which brings me to:
6. William Tartaglia (who I’ve since dubbed ‘Tags’ and he seems to be okay with my nickname). Who cares if he’s a jock? His hour a week is a highlight. While I still pine for McDaniel, I find there is definitely room in my crush roster for someone like sensitive junior running back, Tags. I haven’t asked him yet about the whole Denny drama, but I’m working up to it. And I know it’s doubtful Tags will even acknowledge me when we go back to school, but for now, it’s a lot of fun hanging out with him. Tags is proof that not all jocks are jerks.
7. And finally, drum roll please, my driver’s license! Apparently they let trust people to drive much earlier here than in California. Not that my parents let me drive all that often, but yes, I am legally able to drive.
The next day, a mysterious package arrives in the mail. I open it up and find sheet music to the field show we’re going to be marching. It is an “Arabian Nights” themed experience, and looking at the pages – a challenging one! Like the proud band geek I am, I immediately run out to my garage and start working on the music. It takes me the better part of a week to make sense of things and I don’t even think about calling Denny until then. When I finally feel ready to play in front of my section leader and not horribly embarrass myself, I set up a time to meet him.
Pulling into Denny’s driveway, as usual, I beep like crazy to signal my arrival. Denny, now completely recovered from his injury, walks out and asks, “Do you always have to be so loud?”
Not answering his question, I roll my eyes and plead, “Can we at least practice outside today?”
There’s been a lot of rain recently and rather than being crazy humid, the temperature has settled to a much more tolerable one. I am desperate to get some sun. As my job has kept me cooped up inside, my golden SoCal tan has started to pale. With just weeks separating my reunion with McDaniel, I will take tanning anywhere I can find it. Denny hesitates, looking at the cool sanctuary of the garage.
“Pretty, pretty, please?” I flutter my Clinique High Definition Chocolate Lustre eyelashes in his direction.
Denny rolls his eyes, but answers, “Fine.”
I hop up and down like a cheerleader and drag Quincy, the music, the stands, and the music stands out into the full sun. Denny brings out his set into the nearby shade with a stool to rest on. His doctor is still worried that my section leader might stress his knee too much and has ordered Denny to lay off strapping on quints until band camp. Since Denny is like a brother and I have a cute sports bra on underneath, I quickly take off my shirt, spray myself with sunscreen and put my visor back on. Denny’s different colored eyes nearly pop out of his head. Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. I say, “Jeez Denny, it’s not like there’s anything you haven’t seen before. I’m just trying to get a better tan.”
The blush on Denny’s cheeks is too adorable and he tries to defend himself, “I know, I was just…”
“Just what?” Guys are so cute when they’re embarrassed.
“Let’s practice,” he grumbles.
>
“Are you sure the sight of my amazing body isn’t going to distract you?” I strike a sultry pose, splaying myself over my instrument.
“No.” And the pink in his cheeks turns to red.
“Aww…I’m only kidding around. I have to get this craziness out of my system before we rehearse with big bad Wade.”
Denny shoots me an ‘I am so not amused look,’ but picks up his mallets and we begin going through the show. We start the first song at a slow tempo and even manage to come up with some cool visuals. Like any time I’m playing tenors, the afternoon flies by. When I pause to check my cell phone for the time, I realize I’m supposed to be at Tags’s in fifteen minutes. Crap! Even though I’m late, I realize I need to remedy my current state of funk before I go anywhere near Mr. Tartaglia’s residence. Fortunately, I have some back up clothes in my trunk and a little spritzer of DKNY Be Delicious that should hide the worst of my offensive body odor.
“Hey Denny, can I change in your house?” I ask as I’m already going inside to do just that.
“My bro—”
His words are cut off as the door slams behind me. Already familiar with the layout of his house, I head into his room and begin stripping off my sweaty clothes. I’m almost finished changing when I hear a male voice ask, “What are you hiding in your room?”
My shy section leader has mentioned he has a brother in college. Should I play nice, or should I make Denny squirm? It takes me about two seconds to make a decision. Definitely the latter. As I slip into my strappy sandals (for show only, I usually play set in my bare feet), I say in breathy tone, “Denny, is that you?”
“Dude, do you have a girl in there?” the same male voice asks.
I affect a breathless tone and say, “Denny, I’m getting lonely in here without you.”
The silence that greets my response is perfect. With one last look in the mirror, I waltz out and say, “You’re right, that bigger stick was difficult to handle.”
I leave a dumbstruck Denny and his equally open-mouthed brother behind and quickly scoot downstairs and head off to Tags’s. I guess I should feel a little bad about what I just did, but nah, sometimes it’s fun to keep life interesting.
“Hey Julia,” Tags greets me, then closes the door behind me.
It’s not his usual upbeat ‘I’m looking forward to my lesson’ voice. Even though it’s not in my job description to do anything more than drum set instruction, I have to ask, “What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
Denial much? I ask, “Yeah? Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
He sits down behind his drum set. I pull out some sheet music from my bag, “Fine, now, I’ve downloaded some really awesome music for this week—”
“Does Denny ever talk about the football team?”
Okay, apparently Tags does want to talk and finally about something I want to know about. I answer honestly, “No. Why?”
“I just wondered.”
“Is there something going on?”
Tags fixes his green eyes on me, then looks away and starts tapping his double bass drum pedal. Rather than answer my questions, he says, “About that music.”
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHT: Date Auction
I leave Tags’s lesson totally confused. I try and ignore his weird question, but have a difficult time putting it out of my head. I make plans to get to the bottom of things – just as soon as I get back from band camp! Having almost no idea what’s going to happen over the next week, I’ve drilled Laurel for any and all possible information. I’ve got the basic break down of how things work: no sleep plus hard work plus drill for the show equals the most fun I’ve ever had. Somehow these all just don’t go together in my head. At the moment, I wonder, why am I giving up precious sleep during my summer vacation? Fortunately, I have an excellent answer – it will be a good way to catch up on all my missed hours with McDaniel.
Being the complete clothes junkie I am, I pack super carefully. In fact, I pack almost every piece of luggage we have, because who knows? Laurel arrives as I’m finishing. We’re going to ride up together. She looks on my bed and holds up a garment, asking skeptically, “Is this an evening dress?”
I hide the matching opera gloves behind my back and respond, “Umm, maybe…”
“Julia, you are not going to need a ball gown at band camp!”
Do I dare tell her about my fantasy where McDaniel asks me to the band camp dance, only instead of going to the dance we go off somewhere private where he has set up a CD player with a romantic mix softy playing and a dozen roses and we dance the night away under a full moon? Judging by the incredulous look on her face I would say that’s probably a bad idea.
I put up three fingers and say hesitantly, “Always be prepared?”
She rolls her eyes and answers, “There’s not going to be any room for my stuff!”
I wedge the shoes in the already full bag and say, “Sure there is. I’m a very creative person when it comes to space. You’ll see. Anyway, I’m sure it won’t get in the way of your days of the week underwear and lifetime supply of weird length khaki shorts.”
The Laurel I first met might have sulked at this comment, but now she answers, “We can’t all be g-string divas like you, Jules.”
“Ha ha. Now, let’s go over your plan of action with Denny again.”
She picks up The Great Gatsby (on my summer reading list) and flips through it, “Ummm…”
“Lau-rel,” I mock whine, “I’m beginning to think you don’t really want to be with Denny.”
“Juli-a, it’s just…”
I interrupt whatever excuse she wants to come up with this time, “Now what’s the plan?”
“Ineedtodancewithhimatthedance.”
“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”
“I need to dance with Denny.”
“Very good.” I have been dutifully coaching Laurel all summer, trying to give her the confidence to actually make contact with her crush.
There is a knock at my door and my Mom comes in. She asks, eyebrows raised, “And you’re sure you need all of this, Julia?”
“Definitely.”
“If you’re sure. By the way, I think your Dad and I are going to take off.”
My parents are, I think, trying to contain their excitement about the coming week. When they learned I was going to be gone, they immediately booked themselves on an awesome Alaska cruise and promised to take lots of pictures. It’s cool though; they need a vacation together sans moi.
“Yeah, we were just about to leave, too.”
Pulling out of the driveway, my parents head towards the airport and Laurel and I (in her old Saturn) head towards band camp. After we move in my clothes and finish unpacking, Laurel helps me get acquainted with the campus. I can already picture McDaniel and me strolling around the quaint open spaces.
The first night of band camp, after a basic full rehearsal (no drill yet, just getting everyone back in shape of what it is to march), we all pile into a large auditorium and so we can listen to announcements about what’s expected of us, where we can and cannot go, to stay hydrated, wear plenty of sunscreen, blah, blah, blah. Because we’re the drumline, apparently we segregate ourselves by sitting together as a giant group. This is fine by me, because as of now I don’t know anyone else in the band. Wade is always having us practice late, so it’s difficult to even find time to interact normally with my other classmates. Not helping the fact is that, what is obvious to me, there’s an underlying current of competition among all the girls. There are a few available guys in the Westlake marching band and it just so happens they are mostly in my section. I think girls see me as a threat, which is so not true! The only guy I like is already taken.
Anyway, as we sit to the side, and I watch girls filter in and fill in the space around us, I try not to get annoyed. I want to tell all of them, “You’re trying too hard! Believe me, the guys already know you exist. How can they not? You’re
all prancing around the field all day in incredibly short shorts and tank tops. They know you are there! Play hard to get or something.”
Unfortunately, as the evening proceeds, I realize I have made a mistake by sitting between Stan and Denny. Between the two of them, I am giggling non-stop and draw “simmer down” looks from both McDaniel and Wade and at one point have to cover up hysterical laughter with fake coughing. It’s not my fault – I swear! To keep themselves entertained during the boring announcements, my section mates have been conducting wildly inappropriate commentary on the band parents and Instructors. Stan finally says something so hilarious that silent tears of laughter roll down all of our faces. McDaniel again shoots us the “shut up” glare. Knowing our Captain and our Instructor will have no problem giving us extra laps or push ups tomorrow, we finally shut up.
On stage, our band director, Mr. Mickelson (although I learned everyone pretty much calls him Mick, The Mick, or, if they are feeling particularly weird, Mickey Finn), is going through the week’s events, “So, just one addition – this year we’ve decide to include a date auction to raise money for new instruments!”
His statement is met by cheers and whistles. Wait a minute. Did he say date auction? I could buy a date with McDaniel and he would have to go with me! Once we went out, he would totally break things off with Kimberly. Band camp is turning out better than I ever could’ve imagined.
Mr. Mickelson continues explaining, “We’ll have a sign up list outside the auditorium tonight for those who are interested in helping the band. Because of time, we’re going to limit the list to fifteen girls and fifteen guys – upperclassmen only. If you see someone you want to ‘date’ – bid for them, it’s that easy.”
One of the more enterprising girls (a majorette maybe? I am still learning the difference between what all those girls do – besides wear matching clothes every day), asks flirtatiously from the crowd, “What about the Instructors? Are they for sale?”
Confessions of a Teenage Band Geek Page 5