Chapter Two
What's In a Name
(All I Need Is a Fake Phone Number)

"Chris!" Rachel called from across the lunchroom. A line of flutes, both freshmen and veterans, walking in single file, followed her. It was ridiculous, Chris thought, kindergarteners on Rachel's leash. She walked up and pounded her fist the table. "We'll do it here. Everybody sit down."

Rachel took the head of the table - all eyes went to her, like a queen taking her throne - and counted heads, making sure everyone was there. She took her time, expecting everyone to wait for her. And everyone did.

"Okay, as you all know, this year is a trip year" She looked at each pair of eyes, but never stayed long before moving to the next. "I don't need to tell you what an honor it is to be invited to the Fiesta Bowl, but since we're going to be competing against the best bands in America, we gotta make sure we're ready. It's gonna take a lot of hard work on all our parts, and a little sweat, pain, and growing up." She inserted one of her trademark dramatic pauses. "It's my duty to make sure the flutes are prepared. There's no room for mistakes this year. And the truth is one person by themselves can't keep an eye on all of you out on the field. So our director decided it would be best to assign another section leader to the flutes." She stopped now, looking into every eye, weighing each quality. She stretched out the game show suspense as long as she could, simply because she could.

"Remember the promise," the freshman said.

"There's nothing I can do. She decides for -"

"No! I'm tired of taking the back seat." She flashed that daring smile. "If you don't say something, I will."

Rachel's disapproving eyes drifted toward them and locked on. They both stared back, trying hard not to look away. The lunchroom seemed to quiet down. He could hear the sound of plastic as the freshman shifted in her seat. The splash of condensation on the lunch table seemed louder than it should be. Rachel, for once in her life, seemed out of place. The air of leadership wasn't there. Her eyes lost that sense of urgency. Whether she was looking at the freshman or him, he couldn't tell. He had met her three years ago, but now seemed the first time he actually saw her. Just a single thought crossed his mind: her eyes are green, I had never noticed.

Rachel turned away and disrupted the silence. "I'll have my decision tomorrow." She stood from the table. "We still have marching ahead of us. Get a good lunch and remember to bring water with you when we go to the field." With that, everyone got up and spread into their different clusters. Once again, the table was empty.

"Congratulations." The freshman smiled at him.

"For what?"

"You might get section leader, but I'll get first chair."

"I haven't gotten anything yet, and neither have you."

"Is that a challenge?" she mocked. Auditions for chair placement were next week, and they were quickly approaching. But his mind was preoccupied with something else. And the freshman noticed.

"Are you okay? Don't let delusions of grandeur sink into your head. The last thing I want is another Rachel."

"She's not so bad." He surprised himself. He thought he would never find himself defending her. She has pretty eyes. He couldn't suppress the thought.

They talked until the end of lunch and on the way to the field. Rachel and her news quickly left his mind. The sun was beginning to set. The path in front of them was empty. Most of the veterans drove to the field. The remaining freshmen walked the distance, but no one was coming.

"Looks like we left a little too early." he said.

"It's okay." She carried her flute and water bottle in one hand. He carried his piccolo in his pocket. They set their instruments down on the sidelines, facing the empty field, and sat on the sun-baked grass. They talked about the rehearsal, how this would be the first time the freshmen saw drill, the first time to march and play all at once. He could tell she was excited.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The question surprised him, but he smiled.

"I had one in middle school. You?"

"I'm not really into girls." She smiled wryly. "But as for guys, nope, I've never had a boyfriend." They both lay down on the grass, stretching out their backs after the long walk. As they talked, people started to appear on the field and cars drove up the road. He finally remembered to ask an overdue question.

"Wanna know something funny?"

"Of course."

"I don't know your name."

"It's Cat."

"Seriously?" He stifled a laugh.

"That's my new name. I just made it up. What, you don't like it?"

He gave her a puzzled expression. "You can't just make up a name. What's your real one?"

"Of course I can make it up. My real name doesn't matter." She smiled and propped herself up on her elbow. "You can call me Cat. I don't want my real name." She got up, shaking the dirt off her hands. "I'm starting over." She offered her hand and pulled him up. They joined the gathering crowd on the field, following the sound of Rachel's voice like dogs on a leash.