“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Why can’t it just be a TV show?” As much as I appreciated her and the sentiment, my brain was stuffed so full of this so-called life wisdom that it was starting to leak out my ears; there wasn’t room for more.
“Why would it be anything else, Tatum?” She turned back to the show, put a hand on my knee, and squeezed gently.
Tate,
The All Blacks are only the very best rugby team in the world. How do you not know this? Look up a video of the Haka. It’ll blow your mind. I’ve been trying to convince my orchestra friends to do it with me before a concert, at least once before we graduate.
Brown is the color of chocolate. And toasted marshmallows. Need I say more?
I think you nailed me. With that site, that is.
SK
P.S.—What’s your favorite color?
Of course I couldn’t not look up this mysterious Haka, which turned out to be a bunch of beefy New Zealand rugby players doing a kind of tribal war dance. It was both terrifying and mesmerizing.
SK,
That was wild. Kinda makes me want to see it in person.
Don’t forget to send me your résumé!
I like green and silver.
Tate
I went to sleep that night with violently red cheeks, thoughts of chocolate, and the sounds of Maori chanting in my head.
Chapter 8
Can I join your group? My partner bailed on me.” Hunter approached Abby and me as we were shaking open the gigantic black garbage bags to start clipping, once more, our beloved honeysuckle.
I was starting to get attached to our little area, having become friendly with this plant we were destroying. I felt bad for it. Even though Alicia repeatedly reminded us that we were doing the right thing by removing it, that it would be better for the rest of the noninvasive plants and the native animals, I felt a twinge of guilt with every clip. It smelled pretty. The flowers were sweet. Looks could be deceiving, it seemed.
Abby blanched, in a moment lacking her usual bravado. “Sure. I mean, did Alicia say it was okay?”
He shrugged. “Didn’t ask. I figured as long as the plants were getting the boot, she wouldn’t care.”
I handed him a bag. “What happened to the young Padawan?”
“My guess? He sneezed himself right out of here. That kid is allergic to everything. I was beginning to think it was contagious.”
“Why the heck would he apply for a position like this?” Seemed like a no-brainer to me.
“Right? He told me he had been studying plants since he was little, which made me laugh since he’s little now—seventh grade.”
I laughed. “Guess he’d better stick with reading about them and not experiencing them.”
Hunter and I bumped fists and Abby let out a loud cackle, totally out of character for her, and definitely not her normal laugh. I gave her the side eye.
“So true,” she said, loudly, nodding her head so hard, her curls were flying back and forth.
As Hunter stepped to the side to shake open his plastic bag, I leaned in toward Abby. “What was that laugh? Back to obvious, are we?”
Abby just shrugged and smiled sweetly at me. With a sharp inhale, she sidled over to Hunter. “So what’s going on with the band? Are you guys playing any gigs soon?”
“Yeah, we’ve been practicing, when we can, anyway. Some of the guys have other commitments; most are taking vacations at some point. The goal is to get it together enough to play at Sol Jam.”
Abby clapped her hands. “That would be completely epic.”
Epic? Abby was really laying it on thick. “What’s Sol Jam?” I asked.
“End-of-summer concert. Been going on for years now. Outdoors, five or six local bands, lots of people. A friend of a friend’s family has a place out toward The Plains with a gigantic field and no neighbors around to complain about the noise. Should be a good time. We played last year, and I’m hoping it works out again.”
Abby watched him speak like he was a piece of talking chocolate cake. “Wow. That sounds amazing. Doesn’t it sound amazing, Tatum?”
“Yes, amazing.” If Hunter didn’t know Abby was crushing on him, he was more clueless than she was. The romantic in me that threatened to come out every once in a while hoped it worked out for Abby. And Hunter too. Abby was a pretty great catch.
I grimaced. “It could use a better name, though. Sol Jam? Sounds like a thirteen-year-old named it.”
Hunter shrugged sheepishly. “I think that’s exactly who did name it. The guy who started it is in college now.”
Suddenly, Abby smacked me in the arm. “I have the absolute best idea ever!”
I rubbed my forearm, brows knitted. “Better than finishing up this honeysuckle and moving to a new scary plant in the shade?” My jealousy of the pairs who had chosen spots away from the raging mid-July sun knew no bounds. It was boiling hot, and my nose kept prickling from the sweetness and the dust of the field.
“Yes.” She turned to Hunter and put her hands up in front of her chest, gesturing wildly. “Hunter. Tatum just launched a graphic design business. You have an event that requires advertising. Tatum could make a poster for Sol Jam. Her work is fabulous!” Abby had put on her “I want to sell you something” voice that I knew she had to use when convincing local businesses to buy ad space in the school paper.
Hunter studied me for a moment, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. “That could be cool.” He moved on to the last of the honeysuckle, and Abby and I followed. We clipped for a solid six or seven minutes before he spoke again. “Do you have a card or something?”
“Yeah, in my car.” I pointed back toward the parking lot.
“Cool,” he repeated. “I’ll check with my buddies. Even if the property owner, Owen, doesn’t want to advertise, I’m sure making something up for just our band and our fans would be okay.” I was a little impressed that Hunter’s band had actual fans. “I’ll let you know, okay?”
“Definitely.”
Behind him, Abby squeeed silently. I rolled my eyes at her and grinned. By the time we finished for the day, the last of the honeysuckle had been packed tightly into the plastic bags, all three of us had sweated through our shirts, and I was still grinning.
While bringing the full bags to Alicia’s flatbed truck for disposal, Abby smacked me on the arm again. “I have an even better idea!”
“Better?” I asked. “How is that possible? And why do each of your ideas involve hitting me?” I smirked at her.
She ignored me and pressed on. “Hunter, what if I were to do a whole spread on your band for the first issue of the paper? I could, you know, come to practice, interview the other members, take a bunch of photos. It’ll be great.” She turned to me. “Don’t you think readers would like that, Tatum?” Abby’s expression was pleading with me to support her.
“Oh right, yeah, for sure. I think that would be the most widely read issue in school history. Definitely,” I deadpanned. Abby’s blue eyes darkened in exasperation.