“Yes?” I affect a bored tone, even though my mind is racing, trying to figure out which angle Liberty’s going to take.
“So, you’re not going to be at the game tonight?”
“What ever makes you think that?”
Flustered for the briefest moment, she states, “Your gig.”
“I—”
“You what? You’re going to be in two places at once? Ha! Something tells me that if you’re not at the game tonight that you can kiss off playing at that competition thing Denny won’t shut up about. I can’t wait until I can get him to finally drop lame-o marching band forever.” She continues, “Why can’t you accept the natural order of things? Did you spend too much time in the sun in California?”
My blood, which is already simmering, comes to a boil. I decide to call her bluff, and ignore her obvious dig against the best activity in the whole world. I ask, “What are you going to do about it, Liberty, march your little pom poms over to the band tonight and tell Mr. Mickelson where I am? How do you think that’s going to go? Why does he have any reason to believe you?”
“Don’t think that just because I’m a cheerleader that I’m some kind of idiot, Julia, of course that’s what I’m going to do. You’re so screwed!”
“And you think Denny is going to appreciate what you’ve done? That he’s just going to respect you’re playing dirty? Unless he’s drastically changed in the past two weeks, you must have him confused with some other Denny.”
She looks at her perfectly manicured nails (painted in Warrior colors, of course) and says slowly, “Maybe you’re right. However, maybe you’re wrong and I still go to your stupid band director.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“I’ll admit – things are open for negotiation. I’m sure there’s something you could do that would convince me not to.”
I have completely underestimated her, but maybe this was what she had been waiting for. I ask, “What do you mean?”
“It’s simple, you leave Denny alone and I’ll leave Mr. Mickelson alone.”
I sit down heavily on a nearby bench. Hadn’t I been doing that enough already? Had she even seen me near Denny in the past two weeks? How much more did she want me to leave him alone?
On my silence, she adds, “If you don’t show up tonight, I’ll have my answer. If you’re not there, consider Denny officially off limits.”
“I—”
Liberty spins on her perfectly white tennis shoe and leaves the room, calling out behind her, “Oh, and please tell Tim or whatever his name is, I said ‘thanks!””
Putting my head in my hands, I want to shout ‘it’s not fair!!’ but that seems utterly redundant. What the heck am I supposed to do? I have no doubt Liberty has already arranged a very convincing argument to persuade the Mick my reasons for skipping the game were not valid and that any hope I had of marching in my very first competition would be flung completely out the window.
Is it too late for me to transfer back to California? Maybe I could live with Kat. I walk slowly to lunch and slump down next to Laurel. Mid-bite of yogurt, she asks, “What’s wrong with you?”
I pull out my lunch, which, all of the sudden, I’m not even that hungry for, and say honestly, “Liberty Jensen.”
“She has been a little too quiet recently. What did she do now?”
“She talked to Tyler.”
“On purpose?”
“Well, he kind of just walked up and told her about our show tonight.”
“Oh…ohh!”
I could see the wheels spinning in Laurel’s head and reply, “Yup – and now she wants to use the fact that I’m skipping the game tonight as leverage for me to stay away from Denny.”
“I have to give her credit, she isn’t backing down.”
“What should I do?”
Laurel looks positively stumped, before swallowing and finally answering, “Start being Julia McCoy already. Where is the girl I first met in May? If you come to the game and let down your band, I’m not sure if they’ll ever forgive you.”
She is right. Their former drummer, the guy who never showed up to the Battle of the Bands, is not a happy topic among Beans and Cornbread. Pushing my food away, I ask, “What about Denny?”
“What about him? Honestly, there are two people in this equation.”
“He probably already knows you have a gig tonight and I’m sure he understands that Beans and Cornbread is as important as the Line…”
“But I’m just not sure if they are more important than him.”
I want to think my not being at the game was part of something bigger, that I would look back on this night and say one day on the Behind the Music of Beans and Cornbread, ‘it was a Friday in October when we were discovered at our first gig…’ but there was no promise of that fact.
“Still,” Laurel follows pragmatically, and I have a clearer glimpse as to why she and Greg are so perfect for each other, “No matter what, this is all over in less than 48 hours.”
I somehow make it through the period, and, much to my relief (and the obvious relief of my section), my playing definitely improves from yesterday’s miserable practice. McDaniel is all business, so there’s no time to have a conversation with Denny. As we put our tenors away at the end of the period, I say softly, “Good luck tonight.”
“You too.”
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Let’s Get These Teen Hearts Beating Faster
Given we’ve barely spoken for two weeks, Denny’s two words do a lot to mess with my head. After Tyler drops me off after school, I drag myself up to my room, all set for my much needed power nap. Unfortunately, every time I close my eyes, Denny’s face is right in front of me. What would Liberty do tonight? Without me there, would she try and make a big move on Denny? How would he respond?
Without thinking, my hand shoots out to my cell phone. I quickly press Denny’s speed dial number. As I hear the familiar ringback tone in my ear (a grossly inappropriate rap song the tenors had developed an inside joke around during band camp), I knew I could hang up the phone, but I didn’t want to. I was sick of wussing out and even more sick of waiting for him to do something.
“Hey, Julia.” His familiar baritone voice fills my ear.
“I need to tell you something.”
“What’s that?” Denny is using an unexpected flirty tone of voice.
“Liberty sort of threatened me today.”
“Really?”
“She found out about my gig tonight, and now she wants to tell the Mick where I really am going to be. I know she wants to stop me from going to the competition tomorrow night.”
“And?”
“Well, it’s not like I can crap out on the guys tonight and she obviously knows that, so, the ‘exchange’ for her not telling on me is to…” I hesitate for just a moment before sputtering, “To stay away from you.”
“What do you think about that?”
Not exactly the response I was expecting. Was this some sort of trick question? Did he somehow think I didn’t want to hang around him? What lies had Liberty been telling him? The only way to fight this question was obvious – ask another question!
“What do you think?’
“I, uh…” was Denny’s response. I could barely suppress my grin. Somehow, I had been able to turn the Conversation of Awkward to my benefit. I hear him sigh deeply on the other end of the line before he finally responds, “Okay, fine, Julia, I’ll tell you what I think. I think that it’s utter and total crap. I think you should be able to see whoever you want whenever you want, that Liberty’s on some sort of weird power trip, and furthermore, what happens if I want to see you?”
My heart soars and I reply shyly, “That’s kind of what I was hoping you’d think. Still, I don’t think just because we want to see each other Liberty is going to care. If I see you or not, I really don’t want to benched from the competition!”
“Is she so crazy that she doesn’t realize if you’re not at the competitio
n then I will be mad at her?”
As I was so focused on how the situation affected me, I didn’t realize Liberty must not realize what she’s set herself up for. She hadn’t given any thought to how my absence would be felt by others, namely, my section leader, Denny Napoleon.
“Let me handle her. I’ve let this go on too long anyway.”
I have to wonder where this Denny has been hiding, but I’ll take what I can get and hopefully we’ll be able to discuss his actions and behavior at a later date, “Really? You would do that?”
“Sure thing, and Julia?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll make it over to the Foundry as soon as I can after the game tonight – there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Although I used to think I was the kind of girl who didn’t really care about Homecoming, it turns out I really did want to go. And yes, I could do the asking myself, but call me old-fashioned, I want Denny to invite me. It seemed like everyone I knew had a date, a dress, and dinner reservations. I didn’t even have the band to hang with because half of Beans and Cornbread was attending the dance.
“Okay,” I said neutrally, then broke out into some sort of strange victory dance and was really glad Denny couldn’t see me through the phone. I continued, “Well, then, I’ll be looking forward to seeing you tonight. Good luck!”
“You too.”
We hang up and I smile, things are finally falling into place. The frustration of the past two weeks instantly dissipates. I fall asleep quickly and awake refreshed and excited. As I dress carefully in skinny black jeans and an equally cute top, I feel there is something more I can add to the reflection I look at in the mirror. I picked up a temporary hair dye awhile back and have always been tempted to use it. Walking into my bathroom, I dig out the box and say, “Screw it.”
By the time Tyler beeps outside to pick me up, I have an appropriately awesome pink streak in my hair. Hopping in the car, my band mate says, “Nice hair.”
“Thanks, it was a last minute addition.”
“Have your parents seen it yet?”
For whatever reason, Beans and Cornbread seem to really like my parents. It’s not like we hang out with them all the time and mostly I think it’s because my parents love feeding the rest of the group.
“No.”
“And you’re sure they’re not going to show up tonight?”
“Very sure.” Although I know my parents love and support all I do, we came to an agreement back in California that unless specifically requested, they would not be present at my gigs. While I knew they would be there in a heartbeat, they also knew I was nervous enough without parental involvement and hovering. Plus, inevitably, someone would record the gig and I would watch it later with them in the privacy of my own home.
“Bummer.”
“But they did wish everyone good luck!”
My comment puts a smile back on Tyler’s face as he pulls into Taco Bell for our pre-show dinner. Even though we stretch dinner out as long as possible, of course, we show up entirely too early to the Foundry – so early, in fact, we hit the weird dead time between happy hour and show time. I am glad, because, in reality, we each have our turn to freak out about something minor. Lucy spots us by the bar, drinking our third round of comped sodas, and waves in the general direction of the stage, “Go ahead and get set up, you guys, The Academy Is… should be here any minute.”
Until that moment I don’t think we actually believed this event was actually going to happen. We have been talking about it, practicing for it, and practically living it for the past two weeks, but things don’t seem real until now. Finally having an actual task to complete, we throw ourselves into setting up. I don’t have time to think of what the marching band is doing, or what is going on back at Westlake. And then, it’s time for a sound check. I look up and am shocked to see there actually is a crowd. Where did they all come from? Lucy and The Foundry have made Friday’s show an all ages one, and although I know probably most everyone is here to see The Academy Is… I am hopeful we’ll get this crowd pumped up before the main act goes on. With everything set and tuned, Lucy ushers us off stage and into the very cramped backstage area. Only this time we’re not alone – The Academy Is… are with us!!!
William Beckett smiles and says, “Good luck out there tonight – kick some ass!”
Onstage, Lucy walks up and takes the lead microphone, testing it quickly before she announces, “As always, welcome to The Foundry! Congrats on making it to the end of another week!”
In response, there are some drunken cheers from the leftover happy hour crowd, which Lucy diplomatically ignores and continues, “Your reward for your hard work are some killer bands to kick off the weekend. I want you to put your hands together for an awesome local band I know you’ll love, Beans and Cornbread!”
Jasper, Tyler, and I settle in quickly and start up our little warm up jam while Greg goes through and introduces each of us. I already see some people who are starting to groove along with the music, when Greg nods at me and I kick off into our first song.
Our performance is positively kick ass. All our hours of rehearsal have paid off. During the set, we each have a solo, and after I finish a particularly awesome combo, I look up and see Lucy flash me a big thumbs up. Sweaty and damp, we finish the set to a lot of cheers and begin pulling our stuff off the stage so the roadies can reset for The Academy Is… Backstage, we swap high fives with the quintet.
As they take the stage, we share a smile (it’s too loud to talk) and begin bringing our stuff outside. With everything in the ‘Burbanator, I head back into the club and spot Laurel looking for us. I am momentarily disappointed Denny is not with her and wonder if he is going to arrive separately. Greg greets her warmly, “Hey sweets, how was the game?”
Ignoring her boyfriend, she looks directly at me and asks, “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what, Laurel?” My heart starts to race and not in the good way it had earlier in the night during our show.
“Denny got roughed up pretty good tonight. Our offensive line wasn’t doing their job, and he was pretty slow to get up. I heard the trainers told him to go to the hospital to get his knee looked at.”
“What?! Is he okay?”
Laurel nods and sits down, and Greg put his arm around her, she continues, “Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s anything too major. I mean, we actually won the game. Oh, and that’s not all – you made Homecoming court.”
My brain cannot comprehend all of this information. I ask, “Wait – what?!”
Laurel shrugs, as if this is everyday news and explains, “It’s Westlake tradition to announce the season’s Homecoming court at the game the week before Homecoming.”
“And what? Magically, my name was called? I’ve only been at the school for a month!” I’m babbling, but I don’t think it’s really my fault. My brain is completely overwhelmed. In the space of an hour, I’ve met a major band, played my first gig with Beans and Cornbread, heard my boyfriend may be hurt, and I have, inexplicably, been chosen to be on the Westlake Homecoming Court.
Laurel smiles and asks, “I know, random, right? But apparently the people have spoken. You should’ve seen Liberty’s face.”
As Greg fills Laurel in on the details of our show, I shift nervously and impatiently text Denny.
>>R U ok? Just heard from Laurel…
After what seems like forever, he responds.
>>Fine. Not sure about 2morrow.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Didn’t See That One Coming
Not sure about tomorrow?! What is he talking about? My heart pounds as I bolt from the club, already dialing Denny’s number. I am completely relieved when he picks up the line, and answers in his normal tone of voice, “Hey.”
“Are you okay? What do you mean about tomorrow?”
“Oh, well, maybe that was a bit overboard. I can still play, if that’s what you’re asking.”
With a sigh of relief and my
heart slowing back down to normal speeds, I reply, “You had me worried there!”
“I appreciate that, but I think I’m going to survive. Anyway, who cares about football, how was your show?”
As much as I want to hold it in because of Denny’s bad night, the excitement from earlier in the evening bursts out of me, “We kicked so much ass! And we got to talk to the band, which was awesome. I can’t wait to do it again. Lucy even said she might invite us back sometime soon.”
“You should get back to the guys.”
“Really? ‘Cause you know I’d come join you in a heartbeat.”
“I know you would and believe me, I’m not doing anything tonight except going to sleep. You should go back and have a good time – just be sure to be ready for the competition tomorrow.”
“I will…” I was a little disappointed I wouldn’t be seeing him tonight, but a few hours from now would have to do. I add, “…good night, Denny, feel better.”
“See you tomorrow, Julia. Thanks for calling.”
Beans and Cornbread arrive back to the suburbs at the reasonable hour of 1AM, and the guys urge me to get home, promising they will carefully unload my set for me. Once at home, as I finish showering, it occurs to me that by this time tomorrow night my first marching band competition will be over. And I start to get very nervous again. Drum set, I knew. It is my home. Drumline? That is something entirely different. I thought I had worked out all my nervous energy at the show, but apparently not.
Drumline was such a different thing altogether than drum set. As part of a larger section, it mattered how high my stick heights were, it mattered that my feet were in step, it mattered I kept the tempo everyone else was keeping. It mattered there was tradition to live up to. It mattered to me the seniors would have something to remember the season by…but, as intimidating as all those thoughts were, somehow, it wasn’t so bad knowing Denny, Stan, and Max would be right there with me.
Confessions of a Teenage Band Geek Page 16