I Heart Band (10 page)

“And now we're at a party,” Natasha went on, “and all I do is talk to some guy, and you jump all over me!”

I could not believe this. She was twisting everything around, making it seem like this was all my fault. I mean, maybe she was right about the shoe thing. But
she
started all this. I finally found my voice.

“The only reason you're acting all interested in Aaron is—”

“What? Is he your boyfriend or something?” she interrupted, and I hated myself for blushing.

“No.”

“Then I haven't done anything wrong.”

“Really.” I forced myself to speak slowly. “So you didn't do it just to try to make me jealous.”

“Nope.”

“So you're saying you like Aaron.”

She paused. “Maybe I do.”

We glared at one another. After a moment, I broke the silence.

“Tell me the truth. Did Julia tell you I like him?”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “What does Julia have to do with this?”

“Everything!” I exploded. “She's never told anyone any of my secrets, ever. So if she told you, you must have . . . tricked her, or something.”

“
Tricked
her?” Natasha laughed. “You know, you're not the only friend Julia has. We tell each other everything, too.”

“Please,” I snapped. “So you spent two weeks at band camp together. Big deal. Julia's been my best friend since third grade and—”

I stopped, because suddenly all I could think about was what Julia would say if she could see Natasha and me fighting right now. Taking a deep breath, I started over.

“Look. Maybe we just need to—to call a truce, or something.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “A truce?”

Another eruption of cheers from the air-hockey table caused us both to look over. A few kids were patting Brooke on the back, while the rest wandered off to other games. I turned back to Natasha.

“Yeah, a truce,” I said. “Julia wouldn't want—”

“Hey!”

The words caught in my throat, because Aaron had materialized at my side. Between that and arguing with Natasha, my bones suddenly felt like rubber.

“Hi!” Natasha and I both said at the same time. Aaron smiled at both of us, and I noticed he was holding two air hockey mallets.

“You said you wanted to try a game, right?” he said to Natasha. “Brooke's done beating all of us now, so . . . want to play?”

Natasha looked at me for a second. Then she smiled.

“I'd love to.”

Without another word to me, they headed to the table together.

My entire body felt numb. I stood there for about three seconds before a familiar burning started behind my eyes.

Nope. I was not crying at the band party, not with Natasha and Aaron and everyone else right there. Blinking furiously, I shoved my way past a few kids trying to play some race-car game. I was vaguely aware of someone calling my name, but all I cared about was getting to the door before the tears started—I didn't want to talk to Gabby or anyone else. I was almost there when a hand touched my arm.

“What?” I yelled, swiveling around. Owen took a step back, blinking so rapidly it was kind of alarming.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” I snapped. “What do you want?”

He glanced behind him uncertainly. “We've got an
Alien Invaders
tournament going on,” he said, and through the haze that was already starting in my eyes, I noticed Trevor and several others gathered around a game just inside of the arcade room. “It's a lot like
Prophets
, I thought maybe you'd—”

“Not right now, Owen.” The tears were seconds from spilling over. I had to get outside. So when Owen started to say something else, I lost it.

“Look, I don't care about some stupid video game—just leave me alone!”

I turned quickly and pushed through the exit. But not before seeing the hurt expression on Owen's face.

When the door swung closed behind me, the silence was overwhelming. I walked half a block away from Spins before sinking down on the curb, pulling my knees into my chest, and crying.

A
ll weekend, I replayed my argument with Natasha in my head. When I woke up Monday morning, I was still angry. I was still hurt. I was still embarrassed. But at least I'd decided on one thing.

Forget the whole truce idea.

Sitting next to Natasha in band was just about as intolerable as “Labyrinthine Dances,” which Mr. Dante had still been rehearsing at a ridiculously slow tempo. After spending ten minutes on four tedious measures, we finally got to the second page. On the other side of Natasha, I heard Gabby groan softly.

“Saxes and clarinets,” said Mr. Dante, flipping a page in his score, “this section is all about you. Take a minute to finger through the part—everyone else, let's hear measures eighty-four through ninety-five.”

I sighed inwardly. The horns had four measures of rest before we were supposed to play, and I counted through them silently while Mr. Dante conducted. Next to me, Natasha lifted her horn a measure early and played a few notes before realizing her mistake. She stopped, and Mr. Dante cut the band off.

I couldn't see her, but I knew Natasha was just waiting for me to say something. I sat very, very still, staring at my lap. An ant crawled across my knee, and I flicked it off, wrinkling my nose.

“Four measures of rest, Natasha,” said Mr. Dante, and she blushed. “Trombones, we missed a few accidentals in there—Trevor, make sure you're playing a C-sharp in measure eighty-six. Let's try it again.”

I arranged my face into a neutral expression, even though inside I was doing a happy dance. Stupid, sure, but hey—I didn't have much to be happy about today.

Julia and I had made up over the phone on Sunday. Sort of. I called her, we both said we were sorry, and she said she was stressed about history, and I said I was stressed, too. But I hadn't told her about what happened at the band party.

Because I still hated Natasha, and Julia knew it, and she still liked Natasha, and I knew it. So our friendship wasn't the same anymore. And obviously I wasn't about to eat lunch with the two of them.

I didn't think I could eat with Owen, either—not after I yelled at him like that. It was bad enough that I would have to sit with him in science. I couldn't even look at him without remembering the expression on his face right before I'd run out of Spins.

So I told Julia I was practicing during lunch. And it was only a half lie—after I ate in the bathroom, I was planning on going to the practice rooms. (I'd so rather just eat there, but I wasn't about to break Mr. Dante's no-food rule.)

After we plodded through “Labyrinthine Dances” for another ten minutes, Mr. Dante asked us to take out “Galactic March,”
one of the songs we were performing at the football game
.
“Thank God,” I heard Trevor mumble behind me.

“This one's coming along nicely,” Mr. Dante said after we played it all the way through once. “Actually, I think we might be able to perform it at the pep rally Thursday.”

I slumped a little bit in my chair. The march had the horn solo, and I wanted to be the one playing it at the football game. But the chair test wasn't until next week, so it looked like Natasha would be playing it Thursday. In front of the whole school. That would really help her ego.

“Holly, I'll need you to play the solo at the pep rally.”

I stared at Mr. Dante blankly. He hadn't just said that. He couldn't have read my mind.

But next to me, Natasha was sitting up rigidly, her eyes wide. “Um, I . . . why?” she sputtered. Mr. Dante waved a slip of paper at her.

“Because you won't be there,” he said. “Thursday afternoon is the first debate meet, right? Ms. Monroe notified your teachers that you, Leah, and Liam would be absent.”

“I thought we were supposed to be back by seventh period.” Natasha's voice was weirdly high.

Liam Park spoke up from the tuba section. “They changed the start time of the meet from one thirty to two, remember? Ms. Monroe told us yesterday.”

Natasha looked devastated. I had to press my lips together tight to keep from smiling.

“Let's run through this one more time,” Mr. Dante said. “Go ahead and give the solo a shot, Holly.”

“Okay!”

My stomach was all fluttery, which made it hard to play. The whole solo was sixteen measures, but the first measure was nothing but French horn—the whole band stopped playing. (I'd already marked it with a blue highlighter.) Halfway through the march, I heard a weird, raspy noise coming from the saxes. I was relieved and disappointed when Mr. Dante waved for us to stop playing.

“Gabby, what's going on?”

“I don't know!” Gabby was fiddling with her mouthpiece. “Something's wrong, I can't figure it out.”

Mr. Dante stepped off the podium. “Take your reed off,” he said, walking over to the end of our row. Gabby tried, making a face.

“My ligature's stuck,” she said. Mr. Dante raised his eyebrows.

“You do know you're supposed to clean your mouthpiece every day, Gabby,” he said. “Don't you?”

I tried not to laugh as Gabby gave him an innocent look. “Maybe not
every
day.”

“Ew,” Natasha whispered, flicking an ant off her arm. Shifting in my chair, I peered at the floor and noticed another one making its way toward my sandals. Just as I kicked at it, Natasha shrieked.

“
Oh my God!”

She leaped out of her chair and stumbled past me. Alarmed, I watched as Gabby half stood out of her chair, holding her mouthpiece far out in front of her. Tiny black specks scurried over her hand.

“Ants,” she said calmly. “There are ants in my saxophone.”

Chaos erupted. In front of Gabby, Sophie and two flute players screamed and ran to the front of the room; behind me, Trevor yelled, “Awesome!” and climbed over Natasha's chair to see. I hovered over my chair, torn between wanting to get a look and moving as far away from the ants as possible.

Mr. Dante took Gabby's sax and mouthpiece up to the podium and pulled out a spray bottle. “Back to your seats,” he said mildly, removing the ligature and spraying the mouthpiece. Gabby stood next to him, wiping her arm with a rag.

“So this,” he informed us, “is what happens when you don't clean your instrument. And especially when you eat sugary stuff right before you play.” He gave Gabby a meaningful look before glancing up at the clock. “Go ahead and pack up for today. Gabby, go get your case and bring it over here. We're going to have a cleaning lesson.”

In the cubby room, Natasha was still freaking out. “They were on my arm,” she moaned, rubbing her elbow. I waited until she left before rolling my eyes.

“I wonder if Gabby actually
ate
any ants,” Trevor was saying as he opened his case. “That would be so cool.”

Owen and I both laughed, then glanced at each other. He looked away quickly, and I felt my face get hot. On the other side of the cubby room, Julia was giggling as Natasha showed off her nonexistent ant bites. She'd probably spend the whole lunch period talking about it.

It almost made eating by the toilets appealing.

When I got to the bathroom, I headed straight to the sinks to wash my hands. (Maybe I wasn't as squeamish as Natasha, but still. That
was
pretty gross.) The noise from the hand dryer covered up the sound of the door opening, so when I turned around and Gabby was right there, I had a small heart attack.

“You scared me!” I exclaimed, and she grinned.

“Sorry.” Moving to the mirror, Gabby inspected her arm before pumping soap into her hand. “That was pretty cool, huh?”

I couldn't help but laugh. “Um, disgusting is more like it.”

Gabby shrugged. “Well, don't worry. Mr. Dante said he's going to check every day to make sure I clean my sax.” Rinsing her hands, she glanced at me. “So . . . you doing okay?”

“What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. You and Natasha.”

In the mirror, I could see my face turning red. “Oh.”

“Sophie heard you guys fighting at the party,” Gabby said, leaning against the sinks. “She told Julia.”

My head snapped up. “What? When?”

“Just now, after band.” Gabby gave me a sympathetic look. “Her cubby's right next to Julia's. I tried to get her to shut up, but . . .”

She didn't finish, but I understood. Sophie Wheeler was a huge gossip.

“Did she . . . did she hear exactly what we were fighting about?” If everyone found out about the whole Aaron thing, I was transferring schools.

“Well, Julia.” Gabby tilted her head, scrutinizing me. “That
is
what you were fighting about, right? Julia?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “So what, um . . . what did Julia say?”

Gabby lifted a shoulder. “Nothing, really. But she looked pretty bummed.”

Ugh. Leaning against the wall next to the hand dryers, I sank down to the floor. “Well, good thing I'm staying in here for lunch.”

“You aren't going to talk to her?”

“Who, Julia? Not now—Natasha has our lunch.”

Gabby looked surprised. “Actually, that's who I meant. Natasha.”

I stared at her. “Why in the world would I want to talk to her?”

“Because you had a fight. Because she's Julia's friend. Because she's really not so bad, and maybe if you tried to—”

“But she
is
!” This was too much. “Maybe you and Julia and everybody else haven't figured it out yet, but you will sooner or later. And that fight was
so
not my fault—unless Natasha wants to apologize to me, I've got nothing to say to her.”

It all came out a little harsher than I meant it to, but I couldn't help it. I just could not
believe
this girl had everyone fooled.

Taking a step back, Gabby picked up her backpack. “Okay. Anyway, I've got PE See you later.” She slipped out the door without looking at me.

So somehow in the last three days, I'd managed to screw things up with Julia, Owen,
and
Gabby. At the rate things were going, the whole school would hate me by the end of the week.