I Heart Band (14 page)

“I
'm freaking out.”

I watched Julia fumble to open her clarinet case. “You're going to do great,” I assured her.

Kneeling, Julia opened her case and started putting her clarinet together. “Maybe. I mean, those cards definitely helped. But my whole grade in history depends on this test tomorrow. If I fail, my parents are going to flip.”

“You
won't
fail,” I insisted. “Look, you have no idea how lost I was in science the first few weeks. If I can pass that, I know you can pass history.”

Julia smiled, but she still looked doubtful.

“Hey, guys.”

We both glanced up at Natasha, holding her horn in one hand and my hoodie in the other. “Here you go, Holly,” she said, handing it to me. “Thanks again for letting me use it yesterday.”

“You're welcome.” I couldn't help but notice Julia was trying not to smile. “Julia's freaking out about the history test you guys have tomorrow,” I informed Natasha. “Tell her to quit worrying.”

“Quit worrying,” Natasha said promptly, and Julia laughed. “Seriously, you'll be fine. Want to study after school today?”

Julia glanced at me. “Actually, um . . . Holly's coming over to help me. She made these cards, and—”

“You should come,” I interrupted.

Julia and Natasha both looked at me in surprise.

“Really?” Natasha asked hesitantly.

I nodded. “Yeah, for sure.”

After they headed into the band hall, I walked over to my cubby. When I turned around, horn in hand, Gabby was right behind me.

“You scared me!” I exclaimed. Gabby grinned, and I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said innocently. “Just that I heard you're coming to Natasha's party Saturday.”

I raised my eyebrows. “So?”

“Sooo . . .” Gabby tilted her head. “I guess maybe Natasha isn't so bad after all, huh?”

I sighed. “Okay, fine. You were right; she's not so bad.”

Gabby put her hand on her chest dramatically. “You have no idea how much I love being told I'm right,” she said, and I giggled. “Hey, good luck on the chair test today.”

“Thanks! You too.”

By the time we finished with warm-ups, my stomach was tingling with nerves. But I wasn't nearly as nervous as I'd been for the first chair test. I still wanted to be first chair, of course. More than that, though, I just wanted to play my best.

Like last time, Mr. Dante started with the flutes and moved through the clarinets. I listened to each one, trying to hear what Mr. Dante heard. Who just played the notes, and who was “saying something.”

I could definitely hear it with Gabby. The chorale just sounded different when she played it. When her turn ended, it was totally obvious she was the best out of everyone who'd gone so far.

Until Natasha played.

I closed my eyes, listening hard. Not for mistakes, like I had during the first chair test. I just listened.

Natasha really was great.

By the time she finished, I understood why Mr. Dante had given her first chair. The chorale was so not boring when she played. It was music.

When she finished, I leaned over as Mr. Dante scribbled a few notes.

“Nice job,” I whispered.

Natasha smiled at me. “Thanks. Good luck!”

Mr. Dante set his pencil down. “Holly, go ahead.”

Sitting up straight, I stared at the sheet music for a second. Then I closed my eyes and played.

I didn't miss a note or a rhythm, I played all the dynamics, I breathed in all the right places. It was actually the best I'd ever played it.

I wasn't sure if I sounded as good as Natasha had, or Gabby, for that matter. But I was pretty sure I could get there if I kept practicing.

“Your turn, Natasha.”

Brows furrowed, Natasha studied her cards. I leaned over to peer at Julia's hand.

“Okay . . . Santa Anna.” Natasha tossed a card onto the bed, and we all giggled at the picture. (Seriously, drawing was
not
one of my talents. Santa Anna looked more like he was riding an anteater than a horse.)

Julia waved me away when I tried to peek at her cards again, chose one, and placed it on top of Natasha's. “The Alamo Mission!”

I flipped through her history textbook (even though I knew she was right). “Yup! And what happened at—”

“Battle of the Alamo, 1836, blah-blah-blah,” Julia interrupted. “I got it.” She put her remaining cards down and grinned at me. “I think you're right—I might actually pass!”

“Of course you will!” Natasha said, flipping one of her own cards over and grinning. “Oh my God, Holly. What is this supposed to be?” She held it up, and I tried to look offended.

“It's the Rio Grande. Duh.”

Julia snorted. “It looks like a giant blue worm. See all the lines?”

“Those are
waves,
” I said indignantly, and they both laughed. “Okay, I can't draw like Owen. So sue me.”

Natasha grabbed the box of crackers at the foot of the bed and popped a few into her mouth. “What are you talking about?”

“Owen came up with this game,” Julia explained, stacking the cards into a neat pile. “He made some cards for Holly to help her when she . . . uh . . .” She trailed off, then shot me an apologetic glance.

I shrugged. “I was failing science,” I told Natasha. “Owen's my lab partner, so he helped me. Actually, I think I have those cards in my bag.” Reaching over, I grabbed my backpack off the floor and rummaged in the front pocket. “Yup!”

I spread my science cards out on the bed, and Julia and Natasha leaned over. “He had trouble in history last year,” I informed them. “So I borrowed those from him to help me make Julia's.”

“Wow.” Julia picked one up to study the picture closer. “You're right, he's really good.”

“Yeah,” Natasha agreed, then laughed. “Still, what a dork.” Glancing at me, she blushed. “No, I mean, don't get me wrong—Owen's really nice! I like him a lot. But you've got to admit, this
is
pretty dorky.”

She held up a card. I recognized the mouse in the wizard hat and grinned.

“Actually, I think he's really cool.”

F
irst period the next morning dragged on forever. When the bell finally rang, I hurried to Julia's history class. I spotted her and Natasha leaving, broke into a run, and nearly tripped over a boy kneeling down to tie his shoe. (In the middle of the hall. Seriously, sixth-graders can act dumb.)

“Julia!” They both whirled around, and I tried to catch my breath. “How'd you do?”

“Good, I think!” Julia said, but she looked anxious. “I mean, definitely better than my first test. I just hope it was good enough to pass.”

“I thought you were going to ask Mr. Peterson if he'd grade it for you after class,” I said.

“There wasn't enough time.” Julia sighed.

“But he doesn't have a class third period,” Natasha told me. “He said he'd do it then.”

“So you'll know before band!” I exclaimed. Julia smiled nervously.

“Yup.”

I barely made it to PE on time. It was dodgeball day, and as it turned out, being distracted during a dodgeball game because your best friend was about to get either some very good or very bad news was
not
ideal. By the time I got to the band hall, I had more than a few bruises forming on my legs and arms.

Almost everyone was crowded around Mr. Dante's door, reading the paper posted there—chair test results. I stood on my tiptoes, scanning all the faces. No Julia. Turning, I hurried into the cubby room.

There she was, getting her clarinet case out. Next to her, Natasha was talking animatedly. When she saw me, she beamed.

“Holly, she passed!” Then she clapped both her hands over her mouth and glanced at Julia, who just laughed.

“You did?” I squealed, hopping up and down with excitement. Julia grinned.

“I got an eighty-eight!” she exclaimed. “Can you believe it?”

I tried to look exasperated, but it didn't really work since I couldn't stop smiling. “Well,
duh.
It was pretty obvious yesterday when you kicked Natasha's butt.”

“Hey!” Natasha punched me lightly on the shoulder. “I didn't do
that
bad. And I have to admit, that game was pretty helpful.”

“Yeah,” Julia agreed. “Thanks again for making those, Holly.”

I shrugged. “Anytime. And it wasn't my idea. You should tell—”

“Owen!” Natasha yelled. Turning, I saw Owen frozen in front of his cubby. Judging by the rapid blinking, he was rather alarmed to have the three of us staring at him.

“Yeah?”

“That game you made is really cool,” Natasha said.

Julia nodded. “It helped me get a B in history,” she added.

Owen looked relieved. “Oh good!” He smiled at me. “So you made some history cards, then?”

“Yup.”

“Except hers are . . .” Natasha trailed off, giggling. Julia pulled the cards out of her backpack and handed them to Owen with a grin.

“Holly's not exactly an artist,” she said, and I rolled my eyes.

Owen flipped through a few cards, then stopped on the Santa-Anna-riding-an-anteater card, eyebrows raised.

“Look,” I said, glaring around at them. “I never said I was good at drawing.”

After I got my horn out, we headed into the band hall. It wasn't until I sat down between Natasha and Brooke that I realized I'd never even looked at the chair test results. Half-standing out of my chair, I squinted, trying to read the list.

“Our section's the same,” Natasha said. I gave her a reassuring smile as I sat down again.

“I figured.”

She relaxed a little. “Really? I wasn't so sure. You sounded awesome yesterday.”

“So did you. Besides,” I added teasingly, “I've got the rest of the year. You'd better keep practicing.”

Natasha grinned. “You too.”

“Let's see—you've got your phone?”

I hopped from one foot to the other, one hand on the car door, the other tugging down my bright red band shirt. “Yes, Mom.”

“What time is the game over?”

“Mr. Dante said probably eight, but I'll text you.”

“And who's taking you to Spins?”

I sighed loudly. “Julia's dad is taking us.”

“Got it.”

Next to her, Dad leaned over from the driver's seat. “We'll try to sit as close to the band as we can, okay, sweetie?”

“You're not going to yell my name and wave every ten seconds like you do to Chad at his baseball games, are you?”

“No promises,” Dad replied solemnly. I groaned, turning to leave.

Mom raised an eyebrow. “Holly, are you
sure
you have everything?”

“Mom!” I yelled, glancing over my shoulder. Two other red shirts caught my eye; Gabby and Victoria were heading into the stadium. “Yes, okay? I'm going to be late!”

As soon as I shut the car door and started to hurry after Gabby, Mom rolled down the window. “Holly!”

Exasperated, I turned around. Mom held my French horn case up and gave me a Look.

Okay, maybe I was a
little
distracted.

Horn case in hand, I sprinted into the stadium and found the cluster of red shirts on the far right side. I took the stairs two at a time, squeezed past the saxophones, and plopped down on the bench next to Natasha. Mr. Dante hadn't even started taking role yet.

“Hey!” Natasha said, then glanced down. “Okay, those are
so
cool
.
”

I grinned and wiggled my feet, which were wearing white high-tops with sparkly red laces. “Thanks!”

We spent most of the first quarter of the game talking about her birthday party the next day. (Mom had taken me shopping Thursday after school, and I got Natasha a mint-green belt that matched her sandals. I so could not wait to borrow both.) Then we spent the second quarter watching Aaron when he was on the field and making goofy faces at Julia when she'd turn around.

Of course, we played a lot, too. Every time our team scored, Mr. Dante leaped up and everyone grabbed his or her instrument for the fight song. And every time I heard the trumpet fanfare in the beginning, I thought about Aaron's valve getting stuck and giggled.

At halftime, Julia and Natasha and I went to buy drinks.

“Okay, I changed my mind.” Natasha looked at me seriously. “You play the solo. I don't want to. I'm nervous.”

I rolled my eyes. “Galactic March” was the first song we were supposed to play at the end of halftime.

“Nope. I already embarrassed myself once, thank you.”

Natasha groaned. “I'm going to screw it up.”

“No, you won't,” Julia and I said simultaneously.

When we got back to the stands, a booming voice over the loudspeaker introduced the cheerleaders, who flipped and cartwheeled onto the field. I glanced around the stadium during their routine; most of the crowd had settled into their seats again. Sure enough, Mom and Dad had moved over to the section right next to the band. They waved at me frantically, and I waved back.

Then I saw Aaron running up the steps toward us, still in his football uniform. Great. Now I had to figure out how to play while hyperventilating. It got worse when his knee bumped into my back as he hurried to his spot.

“Sorry, Holly.”

“It's okay,” I squeaked, unable to look up at him. Natasha snickered.

When the cheerleaders ran off the field, the loudspeaker voice boomed out again.

“And now, the Millican Middle School Band, performing ‘Galactic March'!”

The crowd applauded, and Mr. Dante raised his arms. Natasha wasn't laughing anymore. Actually, she looked kind of pale.

We started to play. I tried to concentrate on the music, but I kept thinking about the pep rally. As the solo got closer and closer, my stomach started to tense. I tried to send Natasha a mental message.
Don't freak out like I did.

I tapped my foot, counting the measures. Only three more. Two. One.

The whole band paused, and Natasha played.

She didn't freak out. She sounded
awesome.

I couldn't stop smiling through the whole solo. In fact, I almost missed my entrance. When the march ended, I grabbed Natasha's arm and shook it excitedly.

“That was great!” I yelled over the cheering crowd, and she beamed.

“Thanks!”

When the third quarter started, Brooke and Owen switched places so she could talk to Laurie, one of the trombonists. Trevor slid down so he was right behind Owen, and a few seconds later, Warlock cards were spread out on the stands.

“Okay,” Natasha whispered in my ear. “Now
that
is dorky.”

I giggled. “It's actually a pretty fun game.”

Her eyebrows arched. “You've played it?”

“Yup.”

“No way.”

Grinning, I turned around in my seat. “Trevor,” I said solemnly, “tell Natasha about the time I totally destroyed you at this game.”

Trevor scowled, and Owen burst out laughing.

They only got to play for about five minutes before our team scored and we had to play the fight song. Then there was a field goal, and we played the fight song again. Two minutes later we scored another touchdown and Owen sighed, stacking the cards and shoving them into his pocket before grabbing his horn.

“I give up.”

But half of the fourth quarter passed with neither team scoring. I glanced at the scoreboard; we were still winning by fourteen. Next to me, Natasha and Gabby were deep in conversation. On my other side, Owen doodled in a notebook.

No, wait—a sketchbook. I watched his pencil fly over the paper, fascinated. He really was good.

“Wow.”

Pausing, Owen glanced at me in surprise.

“Sorry, that's just—that's really awesome.” I leaned in closer, studying the picture. “How many drawings do you have, anyway?”

Turning the sketchbook sideways, Owen flipped through the pages. “I've got six more books at home. So kind of a lot, I guess.”

Kind of ?
I thought. Then something caught my eye. “Hang on—what's that?”

I stared at the page he'd stopped on. It was divided into a neat grid; six squares across, three down. Each one had a different sketch, but no color. They looked kind of familiar.

“These are like the cards you made for science,” I said, and he nodded.

“Yup.”

I gazed at them. It had taken me a whole Saturday afternoon to make my lame cards for Julia. Owen must have spent tons and tons of time on those cards for me.

“Why didn't you use these?”

“They're for the next unit,” he explained.

I stared at him. “Huh?”

“We're starting a new unit next week,” Owen said. “They're almost done, I just need to color them.” He looked confused, probably because I was still staring at him. “What?”

I blinked, then looked back at the sketchbook. “Nothing! I just—I didn't know you were making more.”

“Well, yeah . . . oh.” His face fell. “I guess maybe you don't need help anymore, do you?”

“No, I do!” I said immediately. “And I still want to hang out after school. I mean, I have a bet to win.
Cyborgs versus Ninjas
, right?”

Owen grinned. “Right.”

I glanced back at the pictures. “But seriously, this is like . . . a whole lot of work.”

He shrugged. “I guess. It's fun, though.”

“Yeah.” Smiling, I handed him the sketchbook. “Thanks for doing it.”

Mr. Dante stood up. “Get ready for the fight song!” he called. Glancing at the scoreboard, I realized there were only a few seconds left in the game.

As the clock ran down, the cheers grew louder. Someone bumped into my back, and I glanced over my shoulder.

“Sorry again,” Aaron said with a grin.

“It's okay!” I didn't squeak this time, which was an improvement. “Hey, I thought you went back down there after halftime!”

“I did,” he replied. “But I was on the bench most of fourth quarter, and Coach said I could come up here.”