The band room looked empty when I went inside. Only one row of the overhead fluorescent lights was on, leaving a weird sheen on the bulletin boards. I would have thought Mr. Dempsey wasn't in the room except the door was unlocked. I set my backpack down on the floor, making as little noise as possible. Even as it was, the soft thump was nearly deafening in the silence of the room.
I went over to my bulletin board. There was a notice informing me of the after school practice schedule as well as a few notes from my friends in band. Dakota had left a couple sticky notes with little reminders to call her. Apparently she'd made several visits to the band room between band camp and the start of school. I guess she hadn't wanted to share that particular fact to me, knowing how I felt about our band director. She and I had both been so busy, we hadn't talked much. I guess I was too wrapped up in Rob and my other problems.
The heels of my shoes clicked softly on the tile floor as I moved away from my board. Was he really not there? I wasn't going to acknowledge him if he wouldn't recognize that I was there. As I walked across the room, I could see the differences between the band room David kept and the band room Mr. Harvey kept. Aside from the obvious addition of the bulletin boards, there were more changes. The band lockers were free of the usual junk stuffed haphazardly through the barred doors. He'd also moved the position of the podium so it was opposite the door, with the final row of chairs in front of the lockers. He'd even taken time to clean out the two practice rooms that had previously held the broken percussion instruments we had no room for. What he had done with those instruments, I had no idea. He'd also bought a stand rack so the stands were all lined up neatly on the rack instead of being shoved into the corner haphazardly so they were constantly falling over. Maybe it was because it was still early in the year but there was no music spilling out of the filing cabinets or covering the tables at the front of the room. I had rarely seen the place so neat.
It wasn't to say that Mr. Harvey had been a slob about the band room—he hadn't been—but David clearly wanted to keep things neat and organized. It was a new way of doing things. Despite all of the personal issues, David was clearly going to be an amazing band director. In band camp, we'd actually learned the entire show, music and movements with near perfect execution. Never before had I felt better about the upcoming marching season.
I heard fingers typing on a keyboard. So he really was in there and had decided to ignore me. I padded over to the door to the office as quietly as I could and stuck my head around the doorframe. There he was, sitting at his desk, typing away. If he noticed me looking at him, he didn't show it. Instead, he kept typing what appeared to be an email. Maybe he was telling Susan what he was up to? I watched him for a full minute before realizing that it was creepy and obsessive to stare at a guy who was working on his computer. If he was going to ignore me, two could play at that game.
It seemed somehow that practicing would be disrespectful and rude in our self imposed silence. Instead, I needed a quiet activity. As it was the first day of school, I didn't exactly have a large quantity of homework to do. The only thing I'd been told to do was cover my books. Fortunately, however, I had brought along some pleasure reading. Serena had handed me a book about a girl in marching band the week before, insisting that I would love it and had to read it at the earliest possible opportunity. It seemed the appropriate time. The cover certainly looked promising enough: a girl stood on the ten yard line with a bass drum strapped to her chest and the title was The Line, a title I assumed referred to the drum line of the band. It was rare that one saw a girl drummer so I thought her story would be interesting, if fictional. Normally the girls in the band were found in the piccolo and clarinet sections, not the drums or brass. I liked to fly in the face of that. I certainly didn't resent Serena for choosing to play the flute but I certainly preferred to play my lovely French horn.
As I sat and read, David poked his head out of the office door.
"Oh," he said, "you're here."
"Yeah, I'm supposed to be," I replied.
He shrugged. "Just making sure you weren't cutting class." He went back into his office.
I turned back to my book. It was interesting and I certainly enjoyed it but I couldn't focus on it. It hurt to know he was sitting in his office. Damn it! Before we'd screwed everything up, we'd been great friends—best friends. Serena had temporarily been replaced by a French horn playing, cute smiling, completely off limits teacher. It wasn't like he'd had all of the duties of being my best friend, like forcing me to wear decent looking clothes instead of what is most comfortable or keeping me supplied in tons of coffee every day. He was the one who got me best, though. Serena and I had been best friends since we were in the womb but there were certain things about me I didn't think she'd ever understand.
She certainly loved music, yes, but she had never understood how it seemed like my life's blood. Serena would never understand my mother either. Maybe David—Mr. Dempsey—didn't quite either but it seemed he'd already figured out that Mr. Harvey was the real authority in my life. He had overheard that day in the office when I had told Mr. Harvey that I thought of him as my father. It made it hurt that much more that he knew me best and yet we were so far apart. How had things become so screwed up? I couldn't quite understand it. I wanted to hate him for knowing me so well and shoving me away. It made me feel so… so… unworthy.
Logically I knew that as a person I deserved love simply for being me. Illogically, however, because someone knew everything about me and hated me, it felt like there must be something fundamentally wrong with me.
Man did I ever need therapy.
Seriously. I was so far beyond teenage angst and into the world of dark despair, isolated in a dark corner of the band room, brooding over my would-be romance with my teacher. It was so not what I had imagined I'd have been worrying about the first day of my senior year.
I could not wait for the class period to be over.
The ringing of the bell was blessed relief. I bolted from the classroom and on to my next class. Again, I received syllabi and lists of rules. Luckily, lunch was fast approaching.
The vegetarian dishes of the day included a hummus and vegetable platter, a greek salad, or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I grabbed the veggie tray, loading extra hummus and a handful of garbanzo beans. After throwing an apple, chocolate milk, and a brownie onto my plate, I found the table where Rob and Serena were already sitting. I sat down next to Rob who kissed my cheek and squeezed an arm around my waist.
"Hummus, huh?" he said before biting into his burger.
"Chick pea and roasted garlic goodness," I said.
"Amen sister," Serena said.
"Oh you vegetarians you," Rob said, after swallowing down his massive bite of burger.
"Oh you carnivore," I retorted with a smile. "Seriously, I feel no need to kill animals just to fill my stomach."
"And yet you feel the need to eat garlic," he said. "Trying to gross me out?"
"Hmm… hadn't thought of that," I said. "I will brush my teeth if you brush yours."
"Deal," he said with a grin. I turned away when I saw the little bits of beef caught between his teeth. There were some things I just couldn't deal with.
We had a nice lunch and a nice few classes, that is until I went to Music theory class which seemed to have been designed simply as my own personal version of hell. The choir teacher doted on me, having discovered that I was a passable second soprano who could follow a line of music and carry a harmony line. David—Mr. Dempsey—ignored me. I did not see his eyes when he handed me a copy of Elementary Harmony and the information about ordering the workbook.
Band made this all seem like a sunny vacation in Miami, however, given my aforementioned band director's penchant for not actually telling me where I was supposed to be in the drill for the new song he had decided to add to the show. I had to rely fully on our drum major to direct me into position. The moves for the rest of my section were straight forward. Mine, however, were not. I had a duet with Dakota who was on the opposite end of the formation and a complicated set of moves to get me toward the center for our little "battle." In the end, (Drum major's name) handed over the drill sheets surreptitiously. Both of us knew that Mr. Dempsey did not want me to have them. I hid them under my shirt while we were running drill. To make matters worse, I had not been aware of what in particular we would be working on in band when I had selected—or rather let Serena select—my outfit. The camouflage mini and black sandals may have looked really cute but they certainly were not proper marching gear. Fortunately, my marching shoes were in my band locker so I did have proper footwear for the festivities. The skirt, however, left much to be desired.
"Two demerits for improper dress," David had said when I walked through the door.
Unfortunately, he had a point.
The schools dress code required skirts and shorts to be finger tip length. Well, this particular skirt fit the dress code but barely and was a bit tight around my thighs, restricting my movement when I walked. This was problematic in general but nearly lethal in our brief high step section. My skirt rode up high enough that those in the formation behind me (otherwise known as almost the entire band) could see a hint of my lovely rainbow printed underwear.
In hindsight, I imagine it was rather amusing. At the time, I was rather angry at David for being an ass, Serena for picking out the offensive skirt, and myself for not using my head in terms of wardrobe choices.
I was so very happy when the school day was over. Serena and I swung by Hardee's and got orange cream milk shakes. My employees discount had its advantages. We occupied the corner booth where no one else ever seemed to sit. Our conversation began with discussion of the first day of our senior year.
"So… calculus," Serena said after taking a long slurp from her milkshake.
I shrugged. "Calc AB wasn't bad last year. I figure if I get through this, I will never have to take another math class for the rest of my life."
"As if you need math for being the world famous French horn player you're going to be," she said. "My microbiology degree, however…"
"It is your decision," I pointed out.
"Oh believe me, I know," she said. "I have had and internal debate about whether or not I'm insane. I am leaning toward a 'yes' at this point." She shrugged. "No one sticks with their original major in college. I'll wind up switching to something random like Multicultural Education or hotel management."
I laughed. "I personally vote for you switching to a major in Vietnamese."
Serena giggled. "Now that would be amusing." She frowned slightly. "I wish I had obvious gifts and talents the way you do."
I looked away, out at the blue Mazda I saw passing on the street outside. "It doesn't make it easy because I have a talent. In some ways it makes it harder." I smiled wryly. "There's rather a lot of pressure. You should hear Mr. Spear in my lessons. He's so bent on me going to Peabody next year as well."
"But where do you want to go?" she asked.
I shrugged. "Curtis… Julliard… Yale, maybe… Eastman… I'm really not sure. I hadn't really thought about Peabody much until this last year. It's an awesome school, of course, but I am not a huge fan of the city of Baltimore."
"True," she said. She smiled. "I don't feel sorry for you though, I'm afraid. It may be hard but I'll take having a clear direction over my future crisis."
I laughed. "Yeah, I get it."
We were silent for a minute. She looked like she wanted to ask me something.
"I thought you and Mr. Dempsey were friends," she said.
"Where have you been since band camp?" I asked.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You missed the screaming and the yelling and the hating?" I replied.
"I guess I did," she said. "He really doesn't like you anymore. What happened?"
"Rob," I told her. "It started when I started dating Rob."
"Seriously?" she asked. "This is an extreme case of jealousy?"
I nodded. "Yeah, it really is. I am starting to think that Mr. Dempsey is secretly a teenage boy and not a grown, college educated man."
"They don't grow up, it seems," Serena said. "I mean, you know the mess that happened with my father. He ran off with the bitch and only seems to see me as a pet to spoil."
"That really sucks," I said.
"Enough bad stuff for the day," Serena said with a sigh. "We're young, pretty, have boyfriends, and are currently drinking some delicious milk shakes."
"Indeed we are," I said, toasting her with what remained of my orange cream milk shake.
I didn't say anything more about my problems. Life was way too complicated. I could only hope that things would eventually get simpler.
Okay, a crucial author's note. Yes, I am aware that it has been nearly a year since the last update. In my defense, I just finished my first year of college. For the record, majoring in music is not for the faint of heart. Eighteen credits last semester, twelve classes. It was lots of fun. I apologize that this chapter is shorter than usual. It was really hard to write, whether it seems that way or not.
As for notes more relevant to the story… Anyone who has done the math about where I am in school versus the year I started writing this story would realize that I was, in fact, thirteen and in the eighth grade when Fern and David first began their illicit romance. At the time, being sixteen and in the tenth grade seemed so very old and mature to me. I am now nineteen and realize that is not true and that Fern is older than I thought she was. For those who have read this story since its infancy, you may have noticed a few changes in this chapter, particularly in terms of grade level. This is not an error; starting with this chapter, I am adjusting the time line and ages of characters. I will be working on editing the past chapters for age, writing quality, and plot consistency. I will do my best to at least get two more (new) chapters out before returning to school.
To anyone who is actually rereading the story: a. you flatter me by actually taking the time to read it more than once and b. I'm afraid all the chapters will not be edited and reposted at once so sorry if you get confused while reading. In all honesty, I will probably be working backwards from most recent and back since the newer chapters require less editing in terms of quality and consistency. I'll be working on it.
When the school year hits again, there will be fewer updates with longer periods in between. Hopefully I will have time to write next semester. I am, however, carrying nineteen credits next semester, including two ensembles, a weekly 90 minute voice lesson, and a teaching assistantship in vocal diction. Oh, and I'm in the honors college at my school, for which the advantage is a heavier course load in exchange for a big scholarship.
As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. If you want to talk to me, I'd love to talk to you. Send me a message and I'll give you my screen name or my facebook, if you are interested. Until the next chapter, toodle loo!