Confessions of a Teenage Band Geek

by Brandt, Courtney

  “You’re such a strong young woman.”

  As I help Laurel carry a cymbal stand on the way down the field that afternoon, I ask, “So, what did I miss at lunch?”

  “You didn’t miss much. The girls all gave the generic answers you would expect them to give. No one said anything particularly individual or memorable.”

  “And Liberty?”

  “Well, no matter what the question, she would somehow mention about her commitment to ‘be there.’ I’m pretty sure it was a direct dig at you, but it went over the heads of most everyone.”

  “Of course she would. But overall, you wouldn’t say I missed anything?”

  “In the whole scheme of things, no.”

  “Still think I have a chance?”

  “I still think you are crazy to try and do something like this, but yes, in all honesty, it could be your name called out tomorrow night.”

  I grin and say, “You’re just saying that because you want to be friends with royalty.”

  We’re interrupted as Kimberly approaches us. The pair exchanges a mysterious wink and Laurel finds her way to help one of the Pitlets, who has, inexplicably, trapped the vibraphone in a gutter.

  “What’s up?” I ask the drum major.

  “I wanted to do something to help out your campaign for Homecoming Queen.”

  “Really? What did you have in mind?”

  “I want to do a parade.”

  I smiled broadly. This stunt could definitely help. Ironically, with the floats and presentation of the Homecoming court, there is actually no time allotted to the marching band in tomorrow’s activities. We have been relegated to the stands for pep tunes only. Considering Kimberly’s proposal, I think who doesn’t love an impromptu and distracting parade during school hours? However, this stunt could get a lot of cool people in trouble on my behalf. I hesitate a moment before answering, “First of all, thank you. Second of all, are you sure?’

  “What you said on Tuesday was true and it meant something to all of us. I want my senior year to count for something. I want this year’s Homecoming Queen to be someone I know – and I don’t want it to be Liberty Jensen.”

  “So when are you thinking of performing?” I ask, wondering what I’ve awoken at Westlake.

  Nervously, I get up extra early on Friday morning. The day is going to be packed with so many different events, it’s difficult to even pick one thing to be worried about specifically. As I carefully blow dry my hair, I look at my closet and pull out my favorite pair of jeans, marching band t-shirt, Chuck Taylors. Knowing it might be a bit cold out, I put my drumline hoodie over the entire ensemble. Looking at myself in the mirror, I realize no matter what happens, I did all I could do. If it’s my name that’s called tonight, and I get to wear the sparkly crown, so be it. If not, well, I’m pretty sure I’ll survive.

  Looking at my phone, I smile at the image Kat sent me through last night. She and the rest of Jared in Shorts have made a poster of “Julia for Homecoming Queen” and taken a picture of themselves holding it. Sure, it’s only a piece of notebook paper, but it’s the thought that counts. Additionally, she’s sent me a message over night:

  >> If I could vote for you I would – make the Left Coast proud today!

  My mom is waiting downstairs with my favorite breakfast – Belgian waffles with Nutella. She gives me a hug and says, “Good luck today, honey.”

  “Thanks, I’m going to need it!”

  “Well, your father and I are proud of you no matter what happens.”

  The pep rally is early in the day because, apparently, we don’t want to wear out the football team or anything. Spirit Week has reached a fever pitch at school, and I can’t really see us doing anything but winning tonight. Everyone is decked out in their best school colors and jerseys and I even find myself getting caught up in the excitement. The whole school goes down to the football field, and each of the respective classes has a float. Yeah, like a full on float with moving parts and everything. Plus, we of the Homecoming Court ride around in convertibles like we’re members of the Rose Parade or something.

  Of course, the marching band gets down to the field early, and for that I’m very glad. Playing a few cadences works out some of my jitters, and by the time I have to leave Quincy so I can join the rest of the candidates, I feel a lot less nervous. As I leave, with a look from Kimberly and another from Laurel, I know things are going to go well. Their idea was a good one – simple, but memorable, and I don’t think there’s anything Liberty can do to top it.

  As I head to the backfield, where everything is being set up, Liberty, in her cheerleading finery, looks disdainfully at me. Tapping her foot, she says with fake sincerity, “I was wondering if you would show, Julia. It was such a shame you missed out on yesterday’s activities.”

  “Sorry, Liberty, I hate to disappoint you, but no luck getting rid of me today.”

  “Oh, well, it’s too bad you’re late. I’ve gone ahead and picked your car for you.”

  In front of us is a collection of pretty sweet rides. What can I say? We live in upper middle class central – home of BMW, Mercedes and other mid-life crisis type automobiles. Then, in the back, I see a hoopty machine. It’s actually more a land yacht than a car. Liberty strolls me over in the direction of the giant white Oldsmobile, and says sweetly, “I think you’ll look great in this one.”

  No doubt that Liberty has already selected the sleek gray Mercedes convertible as her chariot. However, deciding nothing is going to upset me today, I mentally envision the whole scenario will only help my ‘look,’ so I surprise her and say enthusiastically, “Thanks, Liberty – this is going to be perfect!”

  She looks strangely at me, but before she has a chance to ask what the hell I’m talking about, we are hustled into our cars. What a surprise, I am neither first nor last; I am second to last and Liberty gets to finish the parade. The car, driven by one Mr. ‘Call me Chappy’ Chapman lurches to a start, sputtering fumes. We drive along the track at approximately two miles an hour behind the floats and the football team, waiting for ‘our’ moment.

  As the rest of the court goes in front of me, one of the teachers acts as the emcee for the pep rally events and mentions something about each of them. Then, it’s my turn. The words, ‘Julia McCoy’ no sooner sound over the loudspeaker, then, out of nowhere, with Kimberly on lead trumpet followed by an interesting cross section of the Westlake Marching Warriors, an impressive group of high school musicians start jamming out the stands classic Hey Baby! and join my car on the track. The rest of the candidates, of course, have nothing like the treatment I’m getting. The football team only got the fight song, so this is extra cool. Even better? They have taken it a step further and attached all kinds of signs to their instruments, mostly reading, “Vote for Julia.”

  Chappy decides he likes the attention and slows down even more so that everyone can get into the music. I stand up and groove like crazy in the back seat of the land yacht as my little rag tag band transitions into Louie Louie. Not do be outdone, from the stands, the rest of the band joins in at the chorus, and suddenly it’s like an accidental party in the Westlake football stadium.

  As I’m dancing, I turn around and lock eyes with Liberty, who is sitting grumpily in the Mercedes behind us. I raise my eyebrows if to say, ‘You should’ve known better than to mess with me.’

  She looks away, and the band finishes up by playing a fun mashup of songs. I feel no remorse at all that no one in the school will hear anything about the last Homecoming Queen candidate.

  “You ready to do this?” Denny asks.

  It’s halftime at the Homecoming game. I can only hope the Pep Rally stunt was enough to put me over the top, that everyone went right to their classrooms and voted for yours truly, but I guess I’ll know in a matter of minutes. Nodding and squeezing his arm, Denny and I proudly march down the field in our matching band uniforms – our turn to walk the 50-yard line.

  The white line means so much more than I ever thought
it would. It split the field, it was the middle of every performance, the basis for many of our sets…and now, it led me straight down a path I never thought I would be taking.

  Seriously, me, a contender for Homecoming Queen?

  Last week I was opening for a band!

  Six days ago I was running into a judge!

  Over the loudspeakers, I hear the announcer give my details, “Next on the Homecoming Court is Julia McCoy. Julia, one of the two juniors to be nominated is an honors student and a recent transfer from the West Coast. She is in the marching band and enjoys her time playing the tenor drums, teaching percussion, and performing drum set in the local rock band, Beans and Cornbread.”

  I love everything that describes me is about band. The other girls all are on student government, cheerleaders, or insert your ‘typical popular person here type’ stories.

  The announcer continues, “She is escorted by her boyfriend, senior Denny Napoleon. Denny is also in the marching band and is section leader of the tenor drums. He recently saw some playing time on the football field earlier this season, but is now looking forward to a competitive season of indoor drumline. He hopes to attend college at the University of Georgia next fall.”

  We get an appropriate round of applause, and if I’m not mistaken, the band plays a little bit louder than they do for anyone else. I know the drumline completely changed their beats when we stepped on the field – which I thought was a nice homage. With the yearbook staff snapping pictures like crazy, we join the rest of the Court. I risk a look at Liberty, but she’s too busy acting like a complete, well, Homecoming Queen to even notice. I guess she truly believes it is about to be her name called out. Thoughts race through my head – but Denny squeezes my hand, and I feel better. I see my parents waving from the stands, and know that no matter what happens, my junior year is far better than I ever could have dreamed it would be.

  As the last candidate joins us, the announcer continues, “Ladies and gentleman, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. I am happy to share with you that the students of Westlake High School have elected…”

  An instant falls hush over the stadium.

  “…Julia McCoy as this year’s Homecoming Queen! Julia, please step forward and receive your crown.”

  To say I am floored is an understatement. I sway as if I have been holding up Quincy for too long. I guess, in the back of my head, I didn’t think I would actually win. Blinking in disbelief (and the flash of all the cameras), I walk forward to accept my crown. In walking over, I notice Liberty is trying (and failing) not to lose it completely.

  And then it occurs to me, honestly, how much did this crown mean?

  Not that much. While it is cool to win a popularity contest, I have Denny, my band, and finishing up a competitive season with the rest of the marching band, so what more did I really need?

  How much did would this award mean to Liberty? Probably a lot. I wasn’t thinking about sacrificing my relationship with Denny – I wasn’t crazy – but maybe I could share. After all, it is her senior year, and maybe this could be a nice memory for her. Obviously, she is willing to do just about anything to win. For me, this crown is just going to be something that my friends will probably make fun of me later in life, but for Liberty, I am fairly certain this might be one of the high points in her life. And I have taken it away from her. She didn’t ask for me to show up and wreck her senior year.

  One of the teachers jams a microphone in my face, and without thinking I blurt out, “Actually, I’d like to share this with Liberty Jensen, if she’s interested.”

  Liberty, in her perfect pastel pink suit, looks over at me. I see her face light up and know I’ve done the right thing. She blindsides me with a hug, and over her shoulder, I see Denny looking proudly in my direction.

  The following night at the dance, I wrap my arms around Denny’s neck, sigh, and lean against his broad chest. It seems impossible we only met this year, of course, but a lot of things I never imagined doing have happened in the past six months.

  “I should’ve known.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “I should’ve known that first day when we met and you were bleeding in my arms we’d end up here.”

  Here, of course, is my spotlight dance in the middle of Homecoming. Next stop? Finishing an incredible season with the Westlake Warriors marching band? Winning various and many indoor competitions? Getting signed to a label? I guess I’d have to wait and see. For right now, dancing in my boyfriend’s arms seems like a great place to be.

  Fin.

  # # #

  Hi there – Courtney here. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading Confessions of a Teenage Band Geek! If you haven’t already, you can read more about some of the supporting characters in this book. Lucy Karate’s adventures start in The Line and you might recognize McDaniel in The Line Up.

  Please check out my other books:

  The Line

  A Fine Line

  Keeping In Line

  The Line Up

  I do like hearing from my readers. Please let me know what you thought of Julia: courtneybrandt@hotmail.com.