Chapter Three
Sure, I Can Stand the Rain
(The Witch without an Umbrella)

Lighting creased the sky, as the bus pulled over onto the emergency lane. The rain pelted the windows; there was no way in hell the driver could see an inch past the windshield. Cat stared at the cars, they were nothing but headlights now, nursing the drowning highway. The rain scared her reflection; Chris couldn't tell if she was crying. Her fingers were still tapping the armrest.

It was different that day, that kinda day when the wind combs your hair better than you ever could, a quiet moment seemed so alive, and every second dissected in front of your eyes. She looked so different back then, that day Rachel threw that damned tuner. He remembered seeing her face, searching for a joke, her eyes twisted in that sick longing. Well, they twisted in a different sickness now, but irony is for suckers.

After a couple of minutes the rain let up, and the bus pulled onto the highway. Cat didn't move. Chris unzipped his backpack and pulled out a book, fighting back sleep. Before long, his name squeezed itself between the lines, and his eyelids fell as the curtain rose. Once again, that goddamn chocolate tickled his spine and...

"Hey you!" Rachel threw the tuner. Chris stepped awkwardly to catch it. "Howdy, partner." She slipped in a crooked smile. "Welcome to my hell. I'll break you in easy." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Tomorrow morning, they're all yours. Think of it as your initiation test." She winked and walked off, and just like that, he became the flute section leader.

The next morning Rachel was late. He stood in the center of the flute circle, pacing around and looking at all the expecting faces. He was supposed to know what to do. But the truth was he had no idea. He remembered that Rachel had always taken roll first thing in the morning. He started from there. He went down the list of names. A few freshmen corrected him on the pronunciation, something they'd never dare do with Rachel. They giggled and gossiped throughout the entire roll call, until he turned on one of them. He gave her twenty push-ups. Surprisingly she did them. All twenty of them as the others looked on. The giggling instantly stopped.

He had them form a line facing him. He put them all at attention and told them it was a test of focus. No one was to move muscle. "Even if the sweat drips into you eyes, don't move." he said. "Don't laugh. Don't smile. Don't fidget. Just focus. Focus on our goal." He told them the first one to move would be given twenty push-ups. The first one to laugh would be given fifty.

He walked along the line and called for the best comedian. Cat raised her hand, and he smiled despite himself. He motioned her to step forward, and took her place in line. He went to attention. "Do your best," he said and she understood immediately. She paced up and down the line, wracking her brain for the perfect joke. When she was ready, she unleashed her barrage.

"My friend sent me a postcard with a picture of the earth taken from outer space. On the back it said, wish you were here." Cat ran down the line. "Is it true that the more you cry, the less you have to pee?" She parked directly in front of him. He stared straight ahead, mouth twitching. "How do you get a one-armed blonde out of a tree?" She leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Wave, of course."

By the time Rachel finally arrived, he was only on his second push up.

After rehearsal, the copy machine vomited into Rachel's hands. She lifted the papers like porcelain plates, placing each in its delicate pile. The walls of the music library pressed against Chris's mind, already exhausted; Rachel's presence pressed against his mind. The copier continued its idle drone, the only sound in the room. The air swirled a feather-light touch of cheap perfume.

The sound of his stapler went unnoticed, as he assembled next week's drill. It was a relief to sit down, even on this hard plastic chair; it had been a long day for his feet. He picked apart Rachel's precious piles, page by page, searching for the right copy. The entire section needed the drill tomorrow; their work had just begun. He rubbed his eyes. After a day of marching, it was his head that was the most tired, and while his feet took a break, his brain was still running a marathon.

"You tired?" Rachel let the machine skid to a halt and turned around. "Let's take a break." She laid the last copies on the table, and made for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting a drink," she called over her shoulder. "Hurry up." He accepted her invitation, or rather, obeyed her command and followed her out through the door. The band room was empty. A chorus of crickets penetrated the walls. Their footsteps echoed in the halls. He had no idea how late it was, but everybody had already left. They heard the hum of the vending machine from miles away.

"Where is everyone?" he said.

"Home." Her voice rang down the hall. "The other section leaders did their copies ahead of time. In other words, I procrastinate, and you're stuck with me." She let loose a quirked grin. "Don't worry, I don't have rabies, and I won't make a pass at you."

"You think I'm afraid of you?" His laugh was nervous more than anything else.

"Afraid? I think you're terrified. Especially now that I got you all for myself." She smiled over her shoulder. "Watch what you say, or you'll find yourself locked in the uniform room, or maybe crammed inside a hat box, or -"

"Holding a match in the color guard room amid a thousand containers of flammable hair spray?"

She tossed her head back; her mouth erupted like a volcano. His mind relaxed and he eased the grip on his tongue. Her beauty made her more than human, and her laughter made her more beautiful. He settled into an awkward comfort. "You catch on quick." She braced herself on the walls, clutching her stomach. "So, what's first chair have to say 'bout my piccolo playing?"

"Well, you need a metronome to keep time," he said. She frowned, and threw him an awkward pout. It only encouraged him. "Then again, Dr. Beat could probably play it more musically anyway." He laughed despite himself. A scoff escaped her mouth, and a hand left her pocket. She shoved him into the wall. His feet tangled. She laughed hysterically, as he rolled onto the floor.

"Do I even need an insult now?" She smiled over him. She offered her hand. He had learned the hard way, she was a lot stronger than she looked. She jerked him to his feet. And he learned the easy way, her hands were a lot softer than he had imagined. "You okay? Sorry about that. Must've caught you by surprise. I thought men were supposed to keep their guard up. At least be prepared if you plan to insult me. How are you supposed to protect me if a stranger breaks in?"

"The stranger's the one who would need protection." Before he could react, he was on the floor again. They walked back to the room coated in laughter.

"You did a good job today." The moan of the copier seemed remarkably quiet. "Better than I expected actually. When I saw you on the ground doing push-ups, I thought we were in trouble, but I was wrong. They listen to you."

"I'd love to know why."

"Well, the push-ups helped I think," she said. "And you are first chair after all. So, technically, you're supposed to be better than all of us. God, I'm actually being humble. Isn't this a Kodak moment?" She shot him a smile over her shoulder, as she fiddled with the copier.

"I just hope we'll be ready for the trip." he said. "They have a lot to learn."

"Yeah…" Rachel's voice sank down to a whisper. It was nothing more than a barely perceivable acknowledgement. When he risked a look, he noticed her hands, frozen at her sides. For the second time today, she seemed completely out of place. She stood there, facing away, staring at the emerging copies. The machine eventually spat them on the floor, but she didn't notice.

"What's wrong?"

"You think you can finish up here?" She grabbed her belongings and made for the door.

"Sure." He stood up with her. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine." She paused in the doorframe. She turned, and her eyes never looked more awkward or gorgeous. "About the trip…" She wavered. He waited for her to continue, but all she did was pull her eyes back into that calculated actress smile.

"What about it?"

"Nothing. I have to go." She turned away. The room was empty, and her goodbye mingled with the echo of rushed footsteps.

It was another hour before he finished and went outside. The air was unusually cool for a Floridian night, and gusts of wind pierced his clothes. Static clouds hung over the bus loop, holding nothing but an unchanging purple. It was an awkward feeling, like nature frozen and preserved in a ziplock bag.

He made his way toward a figure sleeping on a bench, and took a seat. The moon strained through a filter of clouds, and the world fell into a purple haze. He nudged the girl awake and a little cat's yawn escaped from her mouth. A purple flower bloomed before him.

"Hey." Cat's eyes flickered half-awake.

"What're you doing here? It's nearly eleven o'clock," he said.

"My dad's coming to pick me up."

"We finished three hours ago. You've been waiting all this time?" She just nodded with a tired smile. "Is he usually this late?"

"I had another ride, but it already left." she said. "So I called him, and he should be here soon."

"You want me to wait 'til he gets here?"

"It's okay. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She saw the look of concern on his face, as he got up to leave. "Don't worry. He'll be here any minute." He nodded and reluctantly said goodbye. As he crossed the street, the night suddenly became cooler and the breeze began to pick up. When he looked back, Cat was curled up, lying still and fast asleep.