“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, Stan, you went all in last night in the second hand. I think you were trying to go see a certain someone.”
“And if I was?”
“Have you asked her to the dance tonight?”
Stan shifts uncomfortably in his quints.
I click his rim with my mallet, “Dude, seriously? Girls love it when a guy is all confident and take charge.”
“She’s so hot.” As if this is an excuse.
“And you’re not?”
I think I see a faint pink on Stan’s cheeks, but it could just be the sun. He replies, “Not hot enough for her.”
I roll my eyes for the second time in as many minutes and tell him, “You’re so lame. I dare you to ask her at the next water break.”
“I don’t know…”
I’ve seen Isabelle around Stan, there is absolutely no way she won’t say yes. I reply, “Quit being an idiot and just go talk to her.”
It’s lunch on Friday and the cafeteria is buzzing. It’s like if you don’t have someone to go to the dance with, you might as well not go at all. Which is a good thing, because once I see Laurel and Denny happy together, I’m going to take a long, hot shower and maybe go play on the Pit’s drum set for awhile. I place my tray at a table with the other juniors on the Line.
Denny passes us on his way to the senior table. He leans down and whispers, his warm breath tickling my ear, “What color is your dress?”
I have no idea what Laurel is going to wear, so I blurt out the color of my own dress, “Navy.”
“Thanks.”
If my tablemates think anything is up, they don’t say anything. I guess as far as everyone is concerned, Denny and I are going together.
Hours later, Laurel and I prepare for the dance. I’ll admit it; the part of me that’s curious to see what my section looks like dressed up (and dancing) has completely won over the part not wanting to see KimDaniel. My roommate gets ready in about 1.2 minutes and sits on the bed in a (surprise!) khaki skirt and purple tank top. I knew I should’ve gone with her to the mall. How is she supposed to make Denny fall in love with her when she looks like that?
Deciding the evening dress I brought is probably a little too much, I have chosen a super cute retro navy sundress. Tres chic. It also hides many of the bumps and bruises Quincy has bestowed upon me during the week. Laurel seems strangely nervous. Putting finishing touches on my make up, I ask, “Are you that nervous about Denny?”
Laurel twirls some of her dark brown hair around her finger and answers, “Umm…that’s the thing.”
“Yes?”
“Can, um, you go with him?”
“What?!” I drop my eyeliner.
Laurel picks at a spot on her comforter and continues, “See, the thing is, I’ve been trading texts and calls with Greg all week and I think he’s coming up to take me to the dance.”
I guess this further proves my theory that time at band camp moves differently than the rest of the world. While it’s only been five days, enough stuff has happened to fill an entire two weeks. Relationships have faded and flared. Still, this is a rather quick rebound. Had Laurel’s denial been a long time coming?
She repeats herself, “Do you mind?”
I guess something really special must’ve clicked between the Beans and Cornbread front man and Laurel, because they really only met like two days ago. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?
“No, it’s cool, but if you’re going with Greg, can we please change your clothes?”
Laurel lets out an audible sigh of relief and says, “I thought you’d never ask.”
Grinning, I pull out an awesome dress I had kind of been hoping I would maybe wear somewhere in the presence of McDaniel, but whatever. It’s a halter dress that has a white background and cherries all over it. It’s very Anti-Laurel. She touches it hesitantly and asks, “Are you sure?”
“Trust me, Greg is going to flip.”
Laurel immediately shucks off her khaki skirt.
A half hour later, my statement proves to be a true one. Greg nearly passes out when he gets a look at stylized Laurel. For a moment, I kind of feel like Laurel’s fairy godmother or something. I nod at Greg and ask, “What’s that?”
He tucks something behind his back.
Laurel asks shyly, “Can I see it?”
Greg produces a florist’s box. He opens it clumsily, revealing a spray of delicate white flowers, “It’s mountain-laurel.”
I have played in a band with this guy all summer and not once did I see this side of him. It’s kind of totally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Laurel blushes, which is something I have only seen her do once since I’ve known her. It’s almost too much cute for one evening.
“You guys have fun!”
Like the happy young couple they (apparently) are, they stroll off hand in hand into the warm August night.
Someone exhales a loud sigh from behind me. I twirl around and see Denny. Denny, well, hey, I can admit it, looks good. His dark hair is all wet from the shower and the chin strap he’s been growing all week has filled in. He’s dressed pretty simply – a white t-shirt and olive green cargo shorts – but somehow it works for him.
I ask, “You knew, didn’t you?”
He shrugs and says, “I didn’t want to have to let her down. I’m glad things worked out the way they did.”
“Why didn’t you like her back?”
“Just not my type I guess.”
Curious, I ask, “And Liberty? Was she your type?”
“I don’t feel like talking about her tonight, Julia.”
Which is fine by me. From what I’ve managed to learn over the summer, the topic of Liberty is a fairly dysfunctional one. We stand awkwardly between the groups of people who are walking to the dance. I grin and wink at Stan as he walks by with the lovely Isabelle.
“Walk with me?” Denny offers his arm. I join him and we take the path less traveled, the one that takes the long loop around the campus.
“You know, I was actually going to set up you and Laurel tonight,” I confess.
Denny is quiet for a moment before he asks, “Really? You were going to stand up the guy who paid $100 to be with you?”
“Yeah.” I rush to explain, “It’s a girl thing. I couldn’t stand between you and Laurel.”
“What if she wasn’t in the picture? Was going with me that bad an option?”
Oops. Without meaning to, I’ve hurt his feelings. I dodge his question, “No, I was just trying to help out Laurel. She’s been so nice to me and everything since I moved here. Not that you haven’t been super nice or anything. You’re like my best guy friend.”
We’ve reached a small fountain. Denny sits down heavily and I sit a little distance away from him. I notice his demeanor is still not a very peaceful one.
“What’s up, dude?”
“You really don’t know?”
“No…”
“Well, I guess I’m going to have to follow your advice then.”
There is no way I could’ve predicted what would happen next. Denny leans over and plants the softest, most gentle kiss on my lips. Almost as if it didn’t happen, he pulls away smiling. I’m grinning too. Who knew Denny was a renegade kisser? Who knew Denny was capable of something like that? How did I miss the signs?
“What advice would that be?” I ask breathlessly, trying not to miss a beat.
“‘Girls love it when a guy is all confident and take charge.’”
My words from earlier come back to me. I ask, “You were listening?”
“I’m on the other side of Stan, Julia. I’m not on the bass line.”
“Oh, yeah.”
I lean into his warm chest and we sit peacefully under the stars.
* * *
CHAPTER TWELVE: All Good Things Come to an End
Although I’m trying to do a good job of outwardly being calm, inside I am majorly freaking out. Denny’s kiss has co
mpletely turned my world upside down. It’s as if he’s flipped on a switch I didn’t even know I had. All of the sudden I’m jittery and wondering about what I should do next or how I should sit or if I smell weird or if this dress is right or when was the last time I shaved my legs. I don’t get nervous like this – especially around Denny. I have no idea what to do next. It’s as if I’m in some weird alternate dimension and all the rules have changed. Like, dating in the section will totally change the dynamic of not only the quints, but the entire Line, and maybe the entire band, but seriously, it’s Denny!
My crazy train of thought is suddenly distracted as Denny softly strokes my hair and shifts on the bench so he’s holding me tighter. As goosebumps break across my arms, I wonder how was I not attracted to him when we first met? I wasted a whole summer we could’ve been dating! This totally cute guy has just been there, apparently liking me, and I didn’t do anything, except tease him like we were in middle school?
Denny leans down and whispers, “Do you want to go to the dance?”
And wreck this magical evening? But then I think, maybe it will be okay – I kind of want everyone to see us together. Still not trusting my voice, I nod.
He pulls me up and smiles down at my bewildered face, “Come on, beautiful Julia, let’s go.”
As we walk hand in hand into the gym, the strains of The Freshers greet us, and it’s obvious the dance has been going for awhile, because everyone’s sweaty and having a good time. I see Laurel’s dress twirl as Greg dips her at the end of a song. Wait a minute! What if she has a problem with me and Denny’s new coupleness? She and I never discussed this possibility and my thoughts are distracted as Denny gently squeezes my hand.
“Laurel won’t care.” Is he a mind reader? Are we already that close? Or maybe it’s just the fact during the week we’ve spent more hours together than apart.
Psychic abilities aside, I ask, “You promise?”
“Does she look like she’s going to?”
I look and see how perfectly happy my roommate is in my band mate’s arms. No, she won’t care. She might be a little annoyed, but I don’t think it’s anything I really have to worry about. A slow song comes on and Denny leads me out across the dance floor and wraps his strong arms around my waist. I place my hands around his neck and we sway closely. A look of surprise registers on Laurel face when she faces me looking over Greg’s shoulder, so I mouth the words, “Okay?”
She nods and smiles. We can always talk about this back in our room. I look around at the other happy couples on the dance floor. As much as I don’t want to admit it, Kimberly and McDaniel (taking a break from the stage) look happy together, so do Isabelle and Stan. It’s the perfect end to one of the best weeks of my life.
Denny whispers in my ear and pulls me even closer, “I like dancing with you, Julia.”
Yes, definitely, best week ever.
“So you really don’t mind?”
Laurel and I sit in our room listening to an old Dave Matthews album. We’re both too hyped up to even think about sleeping.
“I mean, as long as he made the first move, then I guess I have to accept the fact he likes you. Maybe I should’ve figured it out awhile ago.”
“Really? Do you think it’s been that long?”
Laurel pauses a tortuous moment, and admits, “The signs were there, I just didn’t want to see them.”
“Yeah? Well, seriously, how clueless was I?”
“In case you forgot, you kind of were obsessed with McDaniel.”
“Oh yeah.” Somehow, it seems like forever ago I even had a crush on our drumline captain.
Laurel brings us back to happier times, as she sighs dreamily and says, “Thanks again for the dress.”
“Anytime.”
“So, do you think we could hit the mall when we get back from camp?”
“The mall is like, my second home. I’d be glad to go shopping with you.”
Laurel lies back on her pillow, “Thanks, Julia.”
“Who knew the week was going to turn out like this?”
Laurel shrugs and answers, “That is the magic of band camp.”
There is no early warm up the following morning. Wade gives us time off to ‘sleep in’ because of the performance and The Mick allows us to eat “sometime between 8 and 10, as long as we’re ready by 11AM for the show.” After a sweet kiss good night no more than ten hours ago, Denny meets me in front of the girls’ dorm and escorts Laurel and I to the dining hall.
After a leisurely breakfast – the seniors are all slow to leave their last meal – we head to our rooms to shower and change and (sniff) pack up our stuff. After donning my official Westlake casual uniform, I look at myself in the mirror. I am decked out in our brand new marching band shirts – heather gray with an Arabian theme on the back, complete with my own khaki shorts, appropriately coordinated Vans and capped with dark aviator Ray Bans.
The warm up is bittersweet. When we get back from band camp, there are only a few days until school starts. With Denny and I just getting together, I’m not really ready to say goodbye to the summer and face the reality of my junior year. Wade’s voice brings me back to attention. We finish the warm up and it’s actually time to perform the halftime show. With everyone dressed alike (in khaki shorts and our blue polos), it looks like we actually mean business. The freshmen around me have no choice but to adopt the serious faces of those around them.
With McDaniel keeping beats on his snare, we silently march out to opening set and stop. I find I have a newfound respect for Kimberly. She and Russell are intense as they do their salute and call us to attention. Our female drum major climbs the podium and begins the show. I know I get off step a few times and I can definitely hear phasing around the field, but as we get to the last song I feel extreme pride knowing I can march and play a difficult show at the same time. We finish the show to a lot of applause from the collected parents and family members.
After tucking Quincy safely way in his case, I go out and look for my parents. Near the front of the girls dorm, Mom spots me and wraps me up in a big hug, then flings me away and starts looking at my back, muttering something about scoliosis.
Dad says, “Honey, that was great!”
I know they have really nothing to compare this performance to, but it’s still good to hear. I say, “Thanks, Dad. How was your trip?”
“We’ll show you the pictures in the car – it was amazing!”
I want to somehow introduce them to Denny, which is weird because technically they’ve already met. How do I let them know things have changed? And is Denny ready to meet my parents like that? Is it too soon to consider Denny my boyfriend? In my head, I mentally prepare correct versions:
“Hey Mom and Dad, this is Denny, my boyfriend.”
“Hey Mom and Dad, remember Denny? We’re kind of dating.”
Or, the most direct approach, I could just plant one on him in front of them. I’m pretty sure they would get the idea. But what idea does Denny want to give them? And maybe I don’t even really need to worry about this anyway, because so what if I don’t tell my parents everything?
Mom puts her arm around me and says, “Well, we are very proud of you. Did you have a fun week?”
“Greg likes Laurel!” I blurt out as some sort of response, then clap my hand over my mouth.
My parents exchange a weird look, before my Mom says, “That’s nice. Does she like him?”
I nod enthusiastically and say, “Yes!”
I think averaging five hours of sleep a night has kind of messed with my brain and its ability to function normally. Then I see Denny walking up and have to deal with the whole flight or fight instinct. Rather than deal with the situation I mumble to my parents, “There’s Denny, it looks like he has some official section leader thing he wants to tell me.”
I scoot off quickly before they can ask any questions.
Denny looks at me strangely and asks, “How are your parents? Did they have a nice trip?”
&
nbsp; “They’re fine,” I say shortly. Oh no, did he want to talk to them? Is he now offended I’ve cut him off?
“You okay, Julia?”
I nod enthusiastically and say, “Yeah! Why? What’s up?!”
“I have to make sure the quints all get loaded before I head home, so I guess this is kind of goodbye.”
Crap! What happens now? My parents can totally still see us. I really want another kiss from Denny, because seriously, he’s like the world’s best kisser and his kisses are totally addicting. I really think I might need one every five hours or so. Denny is still looking at me in a weird way. Without really thinking I lean in for a hug. He seems to think I’m leaning in for a kiss and we end up doing this awkward thing where we almost knock each other out.
“I’ll call you tonight?” What I mean to say as a statement ends up coming out as a lame needy girl question. What is wrong with me?!
“Sure,” says Denny, tucking his hands into his pockets and walking away.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Transitions
By the time we make it home, exchange stories, and I oooh and ahhh over pictures from my parents vacation, I decide to spend the rest of Saturday catching up on some much needed sleep. Basically, I make it to about 7:00PM and then pass out until 10:00AM the next morning. Oops. I groggily make my way downstairs and grumble at my Mom, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
She barely looks up from the Travel section and answers, “I wanted you to catch up on sleep before school started.”
I pour myself a cup of coffee and say, “Don’t remind me.” Then I remember I was supposed to call Denny, “Did anyone call last night?”
My mom stirs some sugar into her own coffee, “Denny called a little after you went to sleep.”
Frick. Two days into our relationship (?) and I am already totally behind, not to mention, as the caffeine takes effect, I begin to realize the whole ‘being behind thing’ applies to the rest of my life as well. I don’t know how I thought I was going to be able to teach lessons today. In between catching up on laundry, I spend the better part of my morning rearranging my work week. Between band practice and sectionals and rehearsing with Beans and Cornbread, there is not a lot of free time to schedule lessons. I don’t even know when I’m going to be able to see Denny outside of school and band. It occurs to me I don’t know how people in the band date anyone who’s not in the band. I say a silent prayer for Greg and Laurel and hope they’ll somehow be able to make things work. Pushing negative thoughts aside, I psyche myself up to call Denny. I’m actually pacing as I call him, which is weird because pre-band camp I would dial Denny with zero hesitation. And sometimes, I would just call him with any random thoughts I was having. Now? I’ve convinced myself I’m going to say the wrong thing, and doubt it I’ll be able to say anything at all.
Confessions of a Teenage Band Geek Page 8