The Line (8 page)

She wanted Sam and Nevada to know about each other, because, it was only fair. As Cartwright pointed out, if the situation were reversed, she would certainly want to know if they were dating someone else. After tonight, more than ever, she also wanted Sam to know she was a proud member of Forrest Hills’s drumline. Lucy took a deep breath; she was going to have to tell him, even if it meant the end of their budding relationship. Playing second bass was a part of who she was, and that fact wasn’t going to change any time soon. Lucy put on her bravest face, squared her shoulders, and walked into the Krispy Kreme. Her green eyes were instantly drawn to Sam, who was sitting in the far corner booth looking as cute as ever. Then she noticed he wasn’t alone.

Sam face lit up when he saw Lucy, then flushed, and within moments he was at her side, leading her away from the group, “Can I see you for a second?”

“Who are those guys?” Lucy asked looking over Sam’s shoulder. Sporting very similar jackets, Lucy had a good idea of exactly who they were. The South Washington high school drumline.

Lucy was glad she had taken off her own drumline jacket before going into the restaurant, but seeing the collected drummers, all of the brave feelings that had been with Lucy in the car suddenly disappeared. It was one thing to tell Sam the truth when it was just the two of them; it was another thing completely to tell him in front of his entire Line.

“Remember how I told you I was on drumline?”

“Yes.”
Remember how I told you I wasn’t on drumline?

“Well, it’s kind of a tradition I go out with them after a game. I’m the kind of in charge of the section. I tried to tell them I had a date, but that only made it worse. So, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Can we ditch them after an hour or so?” Lucy asked, desperately wishing she could dump them all this very moment.

Sam smiled and answered, “Thanks for understanding.”

No worries, if there’s one thing I know how to handle, it’s high school percussionists.

Thinking quickly, Lucy knew what it would take to get their attention and perhaps even teach them a lesson about the fairer sex in the process. Lucy walked back to the group with Sam, a devious smile on her face.

Sam made introductions, “Guys, this is Lucy Karate. Lucy, this is Flip, Ted, Jeff, Massey, Ken, and Snoopy.”

Lucy smiled radiantly at each of them, wishing there was a young woman among them. She thought she had seen a girl or two on their Line before, but there were none here tonight. Sam took a seat and she squeezed in next to him, taking her hand under the table and squeezing it gently. She saw some of the guys were giving Sam looks of approval around the table. Lucy rolled her eyes and pretended not to notice, but was secretly flattered.

Ted spoke up first, “So, you go to Forrest Hills?”

“Yes, I do. So, now we can never talk again, isn’t that how it goes?”

Ted laughed and answered, “No, it’s cool. We go to practically identical schools. As long as you’re not in the marching band, it’s okay.”

Lucy swallowed and asked hopefully, “What’s wrong with being in the band? Isn’t that what you guys are all in? Isn’t it all just one big happy family?”

Ken fielded the question, “Not really. Both schools are in competitive marching bands, just like the football teams are. Also, we’re on the drumline, so we’re not technically in the marching band.”

As a percussionist, Lucy understood the difference he was alluding to. Being a drummer was an interesting paradox. You were part of the marching band…you were the very heartbeat of it, but you were also a unit unto yourselves. Plus, you could look cool playing a drum, which wasn’t always possible say, playing the clarinet. People in the school may not know much about the inner workings of the marching band, but they could recognize the drummers separately. Lucy knew all this, but asked, “I guess I don’t follow. What’s the difference?”

Ken looked puzzled. It was very difficult to explain this dilemma to someone who wasn’t on the Line, so he replied, “Never mind.”

Flip spoke up, “Anyway, we just have some problems with the members the Forrest Hills drumline.”

Lucy cocked her head, this was interesting news. She asked innocently, “Really? Who specifically? Wouldn’t it be funny if I had class with them or something?”

Snoopy answered, “It’s that stupid drumline captain, Jerm, he’s such a tool. Plus, what the hell kind of name is Jerm anyway?”

Lucy almost spit out her chocolate milk. It was entirely true, Jerm could be a total tool sometimes and his name was a little ridiculous, but he was also a great drummer and a loyal captain, so she said, “Hmm, I don’t know a Jerm. Maybe he’s a senior.”

Lucy fiddled with her straw wrapper in front of her. She was getting deeper and deeper in trouble. If (when?!) she ever told Sam she was on the Forrest Hills drumline, this conversation was not going to go over well with him. Lucy decided to play her trump card, and said slyly, “So, I always see the drummers at my school tapping on things constantly. Do you guys do that too?”

Jeff smiled and responded, “They are probably doing cadences and rudiments. That’s the great thing about being a drummer – you can practice all the time.”

Lucy looked at the group, a completely innocent expression on her face. Lucy may not be the best when it came to sight reading or playing a difficult snare lick, but she had been serious about practicing her rudiments. She also knew drummers looked for any excuse to show off their skills. She asked harmlessly, “Can you teach me one? It can’t be that difficult.”

Sam shrugged his shoulders and answered, “Why not? Let’s see – let’s start you off with something easy. Jeff, let Lucy borrow your sticks.” Sam got out his own pair and instructed gently, “Let’s try a paradiddle.”

Lucy pretended to struggle with the words, “Para…diddle?”

Sam laughed and said, “Yeah, I know it sounds funny – most of the rudiments do. You just tap out, left right left left, right left right right.”

Sam began tapping out the rhythm very slowly on the table. Lucy looked at him strangely, but, other than his traditional grip, followed perfectly what he was doing. She kept time and rhythm with Sam who slowly increased the tempo. The guys around the table looked astonished at Lucy’s hands. As Sam finished, she stopped and put her sticks down and smiled, commenting, “That wasn’t so difficult. Maybe I should try out for our drumline next year.”

Snoopy was the only one who could talk; he said quietly, “Maybe you should.”

Lucy decided to push the envelope a little further, and asked, “Do you guys have any girls on your Line?”

Massey replied, “We have a few underclasswomen at the moment.”

“Are they any good?”

Jeff answered, “For girls? They’re okay, I guess.”

Perhaps due to her raging hormones, something in Lucy snapped. Guys everywhere, had this thing about girls on their Line. Why couldn’t they just, for once, say, yeah, she was a great drummer? Period. End of story. No need to mention a gender. There was always going to be that tag line – for a girl. This went further than the South Washington drumline; this went to how she knew the guys on her own Line looked at her. As a girl first, a drummer second, and very proud of both facts, Lucy looked at Sam and said, “Excuse me; I have to get something from my car.”

With her personal power song (Tomoyasu Hotei’s
Battle Without Honor or Humanity
) roaring in her head, Lucy went out to her car, reached in and quickly pulled out her jacket. She had earned this jacket – not as a girl, but as a member of the Forrest Hills drumline. Lucy ran her fingers over the best Front Ensemble patch she had earned her freshman year. She looked at the Best Percussion Ensemble patches that she had been a part of so far. She imagined the pins and bars she would receive this season. Lucy put it on and walked proudly back into the Krispy Kreme.

The guys saw a young woman walk up that literally stopped their conversation. In front of their table stood a 16-year-old girl with a black and green jacket and an unpleasant expression on her face. Lucy spoke loud enough so the entire restaurant could hear her, “My name is Lucy Karate. I play bass drum on the Forrest Hills drumline. I am a drummer, just like the rest of you. My Line will see yours in November – I hope you guys bring your best licks, ‘cause we’re sounding awesome this year.” As an afterthought, she looked at Sam and added, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to be like this.”

She walked out, willing Sam to follow her so she could give him a better explanation. Lucy was more than a little crushed when she didn’t hear the senior come out behind her.

Well, you earned this. What did you think he was going to do?

Didn’t the other night mean anything to him?

Maybe when he thought he was just kissing some nice girl from Forrest Hills and not The Girl on their Battery. If you want to feel better you can always head over to Waho and see Nevada…

Sorry, but no. The only thing that will make me feel better is if Sam comes out and I can explain to him what I was thinking.

Lucy turned around slowly, but didn’t see the dark haired senior anywhere. She got in her car and drove on autopilot towards her house. Getting ready for bed, she still felt terrible about Sam and couldn’t erase his hurt expression from her mind. Motivated by the overwhelming amount of guilt she was feeling, Lucy hesitantly typed out an e-mail to Sam. Knowing she at least owed him a call, she promised herself she would try his phone the following day.

To:
[email protected]

Sam,

Ha! Ha! You got Punk’d… I wish you could’ve seen the expression on your face. It was hilarious.

To:
[email protected]

Sam,

Look dude – there’s no other way to say this but, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you who I was from the very beginning… Even though we’re kind of a modern day Romeo and Juliet, even though you have no reason to trust me, I still want to see you. Do you ever want to talk to me again?

Check the box that most appropriately defines your emotions:

( ) I hate Lucy.

( ) I hate Lucy, but I understand she did what she had to do.

( ) My feelings about Lucy are mixed, but I still want to see her.

( ) I think Lucy is a young woman who exudes strength and beauty in the face of a male dominated section and would love to escort her on a date sometime in the near future.

To:
[email protected]

Sam,

Did I also forget to mention that I’m dating a guy on my own Line and he has no clue about you? Can you tell I’ve never been in a relationship before? Is it obvious?

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Subject: I’m sorry…sort of.

Dear Sam,

I’m not sure exactly what to say to you. I know that I did a horrible thing by not telling you who I really was and I’m very sorry for it. Lying is not a part of who I usually am and everything else you saw was just me. The thing is, I knew you wouldn’t want to see me if I did tell you. So, it was a weird Catch-22, but you know what? I’m glad I did go out with you…you’re a great guy and I’m glad we ran into each other that day at the movies.

I wish we could put aside the fact our Lines can’t stand each other and all the history between them. I’d like to see you again, but I completely understand if you never want to talk to me.

South plays Forrest Hills this year at our school. Then band competitions start. And then in November there is indoor. So, I guess I will see you around.

With all apparent sincerity,

Lucy

Lucy sent the last draft and felt marginally better. She wasn’t sure if Sam would ever respond or even read her message, but hoped he would talk to her before their Lines eventually met.

The next day, Lucy looked at the gorgeous face with hazel eyes in front of her, trying to concentrate, but her entire being was taken up by the overwhelming desire to run home and check her in-box to see if Sam had responded. Her phone was tucked in her bag, because she knew if it was in front of her, she would be checking it every six seconds.

You’re not being fair…

I know.

And must I remind you this is Nevada Petersen sitting in front of you? A guy you’ve crushed on for nearly 2 years?

Lucy cringed, realizing how much she must be seriously pissing off the dating gods. She had begged for Nevada to look in her direction and now he was doing exactly that, she wasn’t giving him her full attention. Or even half her attention. Lucy interrupted the cymbal section leader, “Nevada, I’m not feeling well.”