I nod, picturing wide open spaces, quaint red barns and dramatic sunsets, “Actually, that sounds great. What do you think, Greg?”
“I like it fine, but let’s not put too much pressure on Laurel, okay? I mean, if the pictures don’t work out or whatever, don’t go blaming her.”
The next evening, I finish my day of lessons and end at Tags’s house, hoping he’s in a good mood. He should be, he put up six points for the team. I’m not sure how or when I started caring so much about Westlake football, but I guess things that impact Denny, have an indirect impact on me. Since Friday night, I haven’t heard anything from my boyfriend, except for a quick ‘good night’ text.
“How you doing?” I knock on the door frame and casually enter the garage.
“Have you ever seen Denny play football?”
This is a weird way to answer my question. I reply, “Actually, no, I haven’t.”
“He’s like, well, it’s like amazing.”
As if there could ever be a normal response to this comment, I ask, “Have you ever seen him drum?”
Tags is quiet a moment before answering, “I guess, at the pep rallies and stuff.”
“That doesn’t count. I mean, on the field, in the moment.”
He looks away, “No.”
“Why are you even bringing this up?”
“We need Denny.”
“You guys only lost because of a lousy interception, it could’ve happened to anyone. Plus,” I put my hands on my hips, “We need him, too.”
“You don’t understand, Julia.”
“Try me.”
“Before Denny switched over to the marching band, we were this unstoppable team.”
“All because of one person?” I ask in disbelief.
Tags looks away and says, “It’s more than just throwing a ball.”
“Do I need to remind you this was years ago? I’m guessing since 8th grade everyone’s grown a few inches and put on a few pounds.”
Tags ignores my question and states, “Look, I’m sure you’ve noticed, Denny just has this innate ability to lead. Our current quarterback, Bruce, well, he doesn’t get it.”
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“I’ll admit it, I’m selfish. Denny’s a senior and if we’re going to have a chance at any sort of post season action, it has to be this year, but also, because of you. He’s never had a girlfriend he cares about. Respects her opinion. Actually listens too.”
I try not to flush, but can feel my cheeks getting warm. In response, I say, “We’ve only been together like, two seconds.”
“I know what I saw in the hall and on the court, and how you won’t shut up about him all period long.”
“So what are you getting at?”
“Ask him if he’d consider rejoining the team.”
“What?!”
Tags pauses before saying, “You don’t think he isn’t blaming himself for every loss we’ve had since he left? That guilt has to be killing him. He’s a good guy, I know him, and I’m sure there’s a part of him that feels responsible for our ‘amazing’ record the past couple of seasons.”
I sigh, because I think on some deep level Tags might be right. The Denny I was with in the car on Friday night definitely had something wrong with him, but was it football related? Or was it something else entirely? Could it be his senior year was getting to him?
Wanting to avoid a difficult conversation and perhaps enjoy a few more weeks of ‘getting to know you’ with my boyfriend, I answer, “But he’s already made a commitment to me and the rest of the Line. It’s not that easy.”
Tags flashes a quick grin at me and says, “Just get him talking about it. Let him know we’d love to have him dress out just one game.”
“It’s been almost four years, Tags, I think you might be hoping for too much.”
“You never saw him play. Talent like that, well, it doesn’t just go away.”
After a moment, I answer, “I’ll try.”
“Thanks, Julia. That’s all I’m asking for.”
* * *
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: What Wade Needs
Somehow, the weekend gives me even more to think about than my entire first week of school. The next morning, as I wake up, I decide to basically take the wuss approach and back off for a week on the whole ‘Westlake Football team wants my boyfriend back’ thing. I mean, I’m usually Queen of the Rash Decisions, but Tags has given me a lot to consider and, for once, I’m going to really weigh my options before I do something about it.
As I wait for Denny on Monday morning, I can only hope he’s back to his usual self. The sight of his car on my street makes my heart race a little. He pulls up and I hop in, unsure what is coming next. He looks seriously at me for a minute, sizing me up and making me blush by generally giving me a look that makes me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes…”
Maybe we should spend time apart more often. Since this summer, two days is the longest we’ve haven’t seen each other. Don’t get me wrong, the time went quickly this weekend, but I really prefer being around my boyfriend – especially when he acts like this.
“I missed you.”
Instead of answering, he cups my chin and gives me a really sweet ‘good morning’ kiss and suddenly my Monday morning gets a whole lot better. I break our embrace, and placing my hand on his, say, “You know, I’m pretty sure my mom watches to see when I’ve left.”
“Say no more.”
As we head toward Westlake, I decide instead of bringing up the whole ‘the football team wants you back thing’ or asking what exactly was behind his ‘freaking out on Friday night but now you’re seemingly fine thing,’ that instead, I’ll simply enjoy riding to school with my boyfriend.
Wade runs a killer rehearsal that afternoon and I’m not exactly sure the reason behind it. Our Instructor stalks in front of us, like some sort of army drill sergeant, “So, Westlake, we’ve got exactly a month until our first competition.”
He pauses, and paces by us, his aviator sunglasses so dark I can’t read the expression on his face, before continuing on about whatever subject Wade has deemed important. My mind starts to wander, as it often does when my Instructor goes on one of his tangents. Until recently, I didn’t know much about our fearless leader. At band camp, not only did I get to witness his tactics firsthand, but I also got to hear plenty intimidating Wade stories. So, I’ve kind of made a running list in my head that is Wade Robinson: Man or Myth, and, the list would honestly make Chuck Norris proud. While I respect him as a percussionist and his ability to write an amazing show, I still feel like there’s something missing with him.
I would never admit this to anyone (except maybe Laurel), I wonder if, secretly, Wade has ever had a girlfriend. I mean seriously…all his time is taken up by percussion related events, which leads me to another undeniable truth – Wade is a lonely dude. I mean, all he has is us. It’s as if his life is permanently on hold. I mean, sure he went to college (some local community college or another), but now? I think we are the recipients of his boredom and frustration from not having moved on to the rest of his life. Instead of motivating us to do something with our lives, it comes out as new and inventive reasons of why we screw things up.
“…do I make myself clear?”
Oh crap, I’ve missed out on what he’s saying…again. As we head on a water break, my section leader asks exasperatedly, “Weren’t you listening?”
Rather than incriminate myself, I answer, “I wonder what’s made Wade more Wade than usual.”
“Honestly? He probably hasn’t gotten laid in awhile.”
I giggle before answering, “You are unfortunately and probably correct. Speaking of which, if Wade has been instructing the Line since you’ve been on it, have you even seen him near a girl?”
“Come to think of it…”
“My point exactly.”
Denny shakes his head slowly, “Oh no, Julia, whatever
it is you’re thinking, I’m not going to be a part of it.”
“It’s only a little idea…”
On the ride home from practice, Denny turns down the radio and asks, “So, what exactly did you have in mind for Wade?”
“Today wasn’t fun, was it?”
“Hell no. I don’t want the rest of my last season to be like today.”
“I want to sign up Wade for a dating service.”
“Really?” The skepticism is evident.
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Maybe I’m not entirely understanding your idea. Care to explain how this will work?”
“Wade needs something else in his life.” I stop a moment before admitting, “I mean, I don’t know about you, but my life has recently become a whole lot more interesting.”
Denny asks obliviously, “Why’s that?”
“Because of you, dork. Anyway,” I continue, “I think Wade could use some of the same. Even McDaniel is more normal because of Kimberly.”
“True, but who would date Wade?”
“Now, please, don’t think my next comment means anything more than a causal observation, but Wade is hot. H-O-T.”
“I hadn’t ever really considered it.”
“Look, even if Wade is socially awkward, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble finding someone. Mostly, I think Wade’s biggest problem is, well, Wade.”
In the end, I decide it’s probably best if I use Laurel’s help in creating a dating profile for Wade and she joins me after practice on Thursday.
“Okay,” I say, settling down in front of the computer, “So, I’ve looked around and I think our best bet is going to be the ‘Perfect Date’ website.”
“Yeah?”
A little embarrassed about the amount of research I’ve put into this project, I continue, “I mean, it’s free and everyone seems to be kind of more Wade’s age.”
“Sounds good so far. What’s next?”
“I think maybe our best bet is to filter some halfway decent chick for him to go out with before we trick him into showing up for a date.”
I like the Laurel I first met would probably not have had anything to do with this devious plan, but now she’s pacing around my room and asking, “Who do you think he likes best?”
Smiling, I start writing things down in my notebook. Over the next half hour, we create a profile for Wade (likes: musicians, brunettes, Destiny’s Child (original line-up), and Pokemon reruns, dislikes: Deceptecons, player haters and the Game) and upload a picture of Wade looking pretty decent from band camp. I hit “save profile” and our Instructor is officially online and looking for love. Laurel and I plan to reconvene before the photo shoot on Saturday to check the status of our project.
At school the next day, I realize maybe I should be a tad more worried about Liberty and the repercussions of my little Pep Rally stunt, but honestly, between planning Wade’s love life, a photo shoot for Beans and Cornbread, spending quality time with my boyfriend and being the model of a perfect quint player, I don’t have time to wait for the other shoe to drop.
While our teacher is busy lecturing, Tags leans over to ask me, “Can you believe Liberty?”
“Can I believe Liberty what?”
“Julia, you’re honestly going to sit there and tell me you haven’t heard the rumors she’s been spreading about you?”
“Honestly, no, Tags, I haven’t heard anything.”
“Well, they’re not good.”
I look over at the guy who probably weighs double what I do, sigh, roll my eyes and ask, “Are you going to tell me or not?”
“So, somehow Liberty must’ve heard about us being okay with Denny dressing out for a game or two…”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Tags, but wouldn’t she like that? You know? The whole football player and cheerleader routine?”
“Of course she would, but guess who would look like the hero if he does come back?”
“Umm…Denny?”
“You, Julia, and Liberty wouldn’t be able to take that, so she’s started something saying Denny wants to come back to the team but you’re not letting him. I think she’s angling for some sort of melodramatic scene where Denny will listen to her and come back to the team…”
“…and into her open arms?”
“Something like that.”
The whole scenario makes my heart drop a little in my stomach. I wanted to tell Denny when I was good and ready that the Westlake Warriors wanted him to play again and somehow had elected me to be the one to ask him. I definitely didn’t want him finding out through some rumor at school. In all honesty, I was kind of looking forward to our ‘talk,’ because I had the feeling the conversation would be one of those really deep ones where I learned a lot about my boyfriend.
On Saturday, Laurel shows up promptly at 3PM with an awesome looking digital camera and a few lenses. I’ve got all my makeup packed, as well as a few different clothing options for our shoot. Putting down her stuff, she asks, “So, what’s going on with drummerboy’s account?”
I grin and answer, “Quite a bit actually. He’s gotten a good number of winks, flirty comments, and e-mails.”
“Anyone worthy of our Instructor?”
“Actually…”
I came home from the game last night completely jazzed that our performance was the best ever and my lips swollen and heart racing from my makeout session with Denny at the door. Entirely too excited to sleep, I jumped online to check in with Wade’s account. While most the girls were a bit forward, there was one girl, Caitlin Wimmer, who kind of stuck out. I could tell she was maybe a little shy, but when I looked at her profile and saw she was an elementary school music teacher at a nearby school.
“Her name’s Caitlin…”
Laurel sits down on my bed, “I’m listening.”
“Now, from what I can figure, Wade is actually a shy guy…”
Laurel does a terrible job trying to hide a laugh. Throwing a random stuffed animal at her I say, “I’m serious, I mean, he’s not nervous or shy around us because he already knows us and we have tons of respect for him. We’re pretty much guaranteed to agree with him.”
“Okay, I’m still not convinced.”
“Have you seen him around girls his age?”
Laurel puts her head in her hands and groans, “Actually, I have.”
“And?”
“You’re kind of right.”
There is something in her voice that makes me take notice, “Tell me.”
“You know Kelsey?”
“Yes.” Kelsey was the super cheerful majorette Instructor. She was adorable and pretty much walking kittens, puppies and rainbows rolled into one.
Laurel continues, “At band camp, they were up near the Pit together and I think she was trying to flirt with Wade, but he just got super awkward – he basically ignored her, then went over and started messing with the guys on Vibes. It didn’t occur to me then, but now that you mention it.”
“See, sometimes I know what I’m talking about. So, anyway, this girl Caitlin likes music, strikes me as kind of the shy type, and I think they’d be weirdly perfect for each other.”
“Well, do you want to send her an answer?”
“Obviously, but let’s take it a step further. How about we invite her to one of our games?”
“Are you sure? I don’t think most young women are the type who prefer to spend their Friday nights at high school football games.”
“I don’t know, I mean, she looks like the type who probably was a piccolo player in high school, so maybe she wouldn’t mind coming to see our show. Plus, let’s face it, if she doesn’t like the band, the drumline, or the suggestion, then she’s not for Wade anyway.”
“You’re right, but how will we introduce them?”
“Could you pretend to be Wade’s step-cousin or something? You could be like, the go between.”
Laurel looks at me as if I’ve smoked some sort of illegal substance and asks, “Why me? I’l
l just mess it up!”
“Fine,” I answer, “But you owe me, especially considering it’s going to be your section that benefits the most if Wade gets some.”
My section mate doesn’t miss a beat, “So, are you thinking third quarter?”
“Yup.”
“I guess we just have to hope Wade goes along with things.”
Caitlin,
Hey, thanks for e-mailing me. As you can probably tell from my profile, I’m a percussion instructor. Anyway, we’ve got a home game coming up next Friday and it would be cool if you could come check us out. I have the third quarter off, so we could catch up for a few minutes. Maybe we can grab a drink or something after the game…
Let me know.
Wade
Between all the laughing and hysterics and messages that were completely inappropriate, it literally takes us an hour to compose this message, but I think the effort is worth it. We just have to keep our fingers crossed Caitlin is the right girl for Wade, that she responds, actually shows up and, with a little bit of luck, they fall in love. I know our motives are selfish, but I do genuinely want to see Wade happy. He deserves it. I mean he gives a lot of these guys something that might have never gained – self confidence.
Laurel glances at the clock and says, “Hey – the guys are going to be here soon – let’s get ready.”
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Game Time?
A few minutes later, a familiar horn sounded loudly from the driveway. Boys. Laurel and I look at each other and roll our eyes simultaneously. Gathering all of our stuff, we pile in Tyler’s old Suburban (nickname, The ‘Burbanator) which has all of our equipment. The guys packed it up the night before while Westlake was barely holding onto a win. Taking a quick glance around the car I am proud the guys have all dressed exactly how I asked them to (jeans or some form of khaki on the bottom, black or navy shirts – no visible labels – on top). Greg is wearing his trademark fedora. Personally, I have chosen a short denim miniskirt, a plain black tank, bitchin’ wristbands (I am a drummer, after all) and paired it with an awesome pair of boots.
Confessions of a Teenage Band Geek Page 11