Chapter 7
After four years of playing high school band, I like watching football. The fans, the crowd’s excitement, and of course the band are nostalgic to me. I might only understand the basics of the game, like what a first down is or the purpose of a thrown flag, but I usually enjoy watching the sport. Not so much today. Nostalgia has me feeling ill and wanting to be more than a spectator crunched between fans on steel bleachers. I want to be at the far end of the stands with the band every time they play something. However, I’m here for Marcus so I suck it up.
“I saw on Facebook that Aaron’s coming tonight,” Chloe says offhandedly.
Sitting between us, Jamie says in a whine, “I want to see Aaron.”
Of course, she wants to see Aaron. Between almost a year of movies on the couch, trips to the park, and countless dinners over our house with him, she’s grown to care about him. But with Chloe’s news, I ignore even Jamie. I’m already nervous about performing tonight at the U-Palooza. Aaron in the crowd is the last thing I need. “Why is he home?”
Chloe shrugs. “Homesick?”
My eyes narrow on her profile. “It’s the first week of school for me. The second for him.”
“Oh no, don’t look at me. Maybe this is your new buddy Kendra’s doing. She’s been posting all week on Facebook about Luminescent Juliet and you.” She rolls her eyes. “Why would I invite that douchebag?”
True. Ever since Aaron broke up with me because he couldn’t do long distance relationships, Chloe, who once liked him, hasn’t been too forgiving. And I’ve been staying away from Facebook. After all the questions and comments about Aaron and me from all our friends, I couldn’t take rehashing our break up every time I logged on.
“But you can bet he’ll be drooling a puddle tonight,” she says with a smirk before turning to the game.
While the Hawk’s football team line up for a field goal, I hold in a groan at the thought of becoming Chloe’s Barbie doll in a few hours. But that’s exactly why I thought she would invite him. Her idea of rubbing my hot new look—her words not mine—in his face. “Think he’ll want to get back together?” A gaze of fury snaps to mine. I laugh. “Just kidding.”
Chloe doesn’t laugh. “You’d better be.”
Sensing the animosity in the air, Jamie looks between us. “I like Aaron.”
“We do too,” I say with a smile and straighten one of the barrettes in her shiny hair. Chloe lets out a huff. I ignore her. “He’s just not my boyfriend anymore.”
Jamie frowns at me.
The kicker makes the field goal and we cheer with the rest of the crowd.
With a glance at the scoreboard—we’re still down by four—and the time, I turn to Jamie. “It’s almost half time. Do you still want a hotdog?” She nods her head vigorously. “Chloe, you coming?”
“No, but I’ll take a roll of sweet farts.”
As expected, Jamie giggles.
“Be right back with those farts,” I say for the purpose of adding more giggles.
Hand in hand, we make our way through the packed crowd in the bleachers then down to the concession stand. While we wait for two hot dogs—at least I didn’t have to make lunch today—a Sprite, popcorn, and one roll of Sweet Tarts, I notice someone standing amid a bunch of girls. Unfortunately, so does Jamie. Her hand tears from mine before she rushes to the end of the concession stand line.
“Romeo!” she yells and waves.
He smiles at her and waves back, standing in the circle of his adorers. Flinching, I almost knock the box of napkins on the counter down. His warm, open smile competes with the brilliance of the afternoon sun. I’ve never seen him smile like that. So startled by the radiance of it, I blink before turning back to the counter.
Romeo’s already talking with Jamie by the time I collect our food. She’s asking him to sit with us when I get to them. Great.
He slides his hands in his pockets, looking from me to her, probably deciding if he can contain his inner dick throughout half of a football game, before he agrees. During the last two practices, he was as relentless as ever. So much so, that Justin didn’t have a chance to offer his invitation again because I high tailed it out of there faster than ever. But on his best behavior around Jamie, he helps carry the food to our seats. Once again, I consider bringing Jamie to all our practices. But no, Justin was right. She doesn’t belong there.
Chloe’s eyes almost pop out of her head as we sit down. While I introduce them and reveal he’s the guitar player, her mouth catches flies as she stares at him. She nudges me hard with an elbow when my sister and Romeo start talking Nintendo.
I give her a look and unwrap my dog.
She mouths, “Holy fuck.” Stomps her high-heeled foot then mouths, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Asshole,” I mouth back and take a bite. I haven’t shared Romeo’s attitude with me to anyone. I’m hoping that if I ignore him being a jerk, he’ll give it up.
She twists around to look at Romeo in conversation with Jamie, who’s giggling is starting to annoy the people behind us.
“You’ve lost your mind,” she says aloud and Romeo looks up.
I give him a weak closed lipped smile while chewing and wait for Jamie to get his attention again before I kick Chloe’s high heel.
“You’re nuts,” she says under her breath.
Ignoring her, I finish my concession stand lunch.
The first half ends and the players leave the field.
I hand Jamie a hot dog. “The band’s coming on.”
She looks up to Romeo. “You like watching the band?”
He grins at her. “I love watching the band. It’s the best part of the game.”
I stare at the slight crinkles in the corner of his eyes. Who is this alter Romeo around my sister? Chloe nudges me again. I refuse to look her way. I can imagine the expression—one that conveys I’m nuts again—on her face.
A whistle sounds then the beat of a drum. The announcer’s voice booms with the introduction of the band as they form a line on the other side of the field. My breath hitches at the sight of white and red uniforms edged with shiny brass. Another whistle blow and they begin marching across the field with the percussion line leading and pounding out a drum roll. The brass section follows in a V. One more whistle blow and the percussion line drills out a fast beat until the band stands in front of the home audience. Quiet for a few seconds, the band is colorful and bright standing in the afternoon sun while anticipation hangs in the bleachers.
Suddenly, the drums roar until the entire band breaks into blaring music and my chest tightens into a knot.
Chloe, Romeo, Jamie, and my nervousness about the performance tonight are forgotten as want and regret swirl inside of me. Marcus is in the second line of the drums. I used be in the line ahead of him. In the center. The leader. I crouch down with my hands sprayed at the sides of my face. I didn’t think watching him was going to be this hard. My eyes and ears stay riveted to the scene and the tune, but my body is frozen want as they play.
Music booms as they march and change formation into a visible H for the Hawks. Brightly colored flags fly behind them. Horns blast as they change formation again and the drumline comes back to the front.
I can’t help imagining being out there with them playing and marching. My fingers dig into the skin above my temples. They’re good. The marching band I should have been in would have been better. On another field, in another state, I should be playing and marching right now too.
Instead, I’m in the bleachers curled up like an insane person.
At the end of the performance, I finally notice my heavy breath, Chloe’s hand rubbing my back, Jamie curled next to me, and the audience cheering. After two whistle blows and another drumroll, the band marches back to their spot in the stands on the far left.
I slowly sit up.
“You alright?” Chloe asks gently.
I gulp in air and nod.
Jamie’s hand tightens around my arm. “Marcus was good, huh?”
Her eyes question me. Though she doesn’t understand my reaction, she knows something is off. “Marcus was great,” I say as warmly as possible. Above her head, Romeo stares at me. The striking lines of his face appear confused.
Chloe lets out a laugh and leans across me. “She’s not a freak. Just a band geek. She was supposed to go to Virginia. Scholarship and all.”
His dark gaze bores into mine. His mouth hangs slightly open before he asks, “Then why aren’t you there?”
“She has to watch—”
“I’m needed at home,” I say, cutting off Chloe. I never, ever want Jamie to feel responsible or guilty for my decision.
Romeo still looks confused, but my tone or his phone, which he digs out of his pocket, helps drop the subject.
I give Chloe a look while he reads a text.
“I’m an ass. Forgot. Sorry,” she says lowly then looks to Jamie, who’s watching us. “Want some Sweet Tarts?”
Chloe keeps handing Sweet Tarts over my lap as the second half begins. Romeo’s busy texting until he stands and waves to someone in the aisle. The girl from the hallway waves back. Within seconds, she shuffles her way toward him. Dressed in a white polo and a navy skort, she looks tennis preppy. She must be who he was texting I realize as he shoves the phone back in his pocket.
After she gives him a quick hug, he introduces us to April. Although he explains I’m the new drummer, he doesn’t give her a title, but she has to be his girlfriend. Though Romeo is beyond hot, I can’t understand why someone would date him. Girls follow him like the Pied Piper. And the constriction of April’s smile while she offers Chloe and I a quick hello conveys the jealously she must harbor all the freakin’ time.
The afternoon turns more uncomfortable. We watch the game for the most part. Chloe and I chat every now and then on our end. Romeo and April converse amongst themselves. Jamie, seated in the middle, is the only one who talks to both sides.
The Hawks end up losing by two points. Shuffling out, Romeo quizzes me on the time and place for our gig tonight like I’m a simpleton who can’t remember the simplest of directions. His girlfriend watches me with a hooded expression as I answer him in a tight tone. I resist rolling my eyes at her look.
Even if he found me attractive or if I were in the running for a boyfriend, he’s the last person I would hook up with. Even dripping with sexual allure, chauvinistic jerks don’t appeal to me.