All it would take was one person in the snare drum line to challenge somebody else. Then we’d all have to try out, and I could carefully throw the competition so that I came in third. Problem was, except for Will, our snare drum line wasn’t very ambitious. I hadn’t convinced them to challenge me after begging them all summer. I wouldn’t convince them to challenge Will now.
I could, however, challenge Will myself.
That fantasy turned into an idea. The idea turned into a plan, because I had plenty of peace to think it through without the pesky drum captain teasing and distracting me. By the time DeMarcus started reading the end-of-day announcements, I’d made up my mind. Without a word to Will or Jimmy, I hefted my drum onto my shoulders, marched across the field, and climbed the stadium steps, making a beeline for Ms. Nakamoto. I whispered in her ear.
When DeMarcus finished his monotone of the day, Ms. Nakamoto held out her hand for the microphone. “One last announcement,” she said. “Snare drums, report to the band room before school tomorrow. Ms. Cruz is challenging Mr. Matthews for drum captain.”
“Oh, man!” was the first cry to come out of the snare drums, followed by some lower-key cursing—likely because they didn’t want to come to school early, not because they were worried about keeping their positions in the section. Then came a swell of “oooooh” as the rest of the band realized I must be trying to make Will’s life as miserable as possible.
While I had their attention, I used my drumstick to point at him far away across the field, like a tough boxer talking smack at the press conference before a big match: You, my friend, are dead meat.
***
I wasn’t sure I’d ever cried at school before. My decision never to have a boyfriend had come early, so nothing much had bothered me even during middle school when everything bothered everybody and girls broke down because a stranger insulted their sandals.
And now, as a senior, I’d been alternating between swallowing tears and outright sobbing for hours, since I’d beat Will and all the other drums in the challenge to become drum captain.
“This is so frustrating,” Kaye said. “Why do you get upset when you do well? It makes no sense!”
She and Harper and I stood in the hall outside Mr. Frank’s classroom before study hall. Kaye kept Sawyer and other curious boys at bay with the glare of a student council vice president. I ached to talk to Sawyer about what I’d done too. He understood my problem with responsibility a lot better than Harper and Kaye. But he and they did not get each other at all. I couldn’t talk to the three of them at the same time.
“I’m not upset for doing well,” I grumbled. “I always do well on drums. I’m a good drummer. I just don’t want to come in first, because first chair is drum captain and has to be in charge.”
“If you didn’t want to be drum captain,” Harper puzzled, “and Will was drum captain before, why’d you challenge him?”
“Because he’s furious with me for breaking him and Angelica up, and I didn’t want to stand next to him every day for the rest of marching season. I challenged him and intended to get third.”
“Get third,” Kaye repeated. “Like, you can decide ahead of time what your rank will be.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Will should have played perfectly and snagged drum captain again, like he did last week when he challenged me. Travis is good, but he has trouble with the roll at the beginning of the bridge, so he should have placed second. Jimmy doesn’t quite understand the syncopation in the chorus, so he should have placed behind Travis. Actually, he did. The drum line goes downhill from there. All I had to do was throw a couple of minor things and I could have slid in perfectly between Travis and Jimmy at third chair. That way I wouldn’t have to slum with the freshmen at the bottom of the section, but I wouldn’t have to stand next to Will anymore.”
Kaye and Harper shared a look. Harper said, “We know you’ve thrown challenges before, but I had no idea you were approaching this with the precision of a brain surgeon. Is this how you always try out?”
“Yes.”
“So what happened?” Kaye asked flatly. I could tell she was exasperated with me, but she was humoring me. For now.
“I was upset about the whole thing with Will”—I paused to sniffle—“and I forgot to mess up. Now he’s even madder at me for taking drum captain away from him. But I didn’t want it!”
“That’s ridiculous,” Kaye said firmly. “You’ve told us some doozies before. You’ve been irresponsible and a goofball. But trying to throw a challenge when you love band borders on insane. I can’t believe you! You’re so smart, Tia. You’re so smart that you can pull off looking like an imbecile, just because you don’t want to be in charge? You’re going to let a guy be in charge so you don’t have to take responsibility?”
I had stood there through Kaye’s lecture, taking it. I was used to her talking to me like my mom. I didn’t mind most of the time, since my mom was gone. It wasn’t as if I was getting it twice.
But by the end of Kaye’s speech, I was ticked off. She wasn’t even through, but I was done listening.
I straightened to my full height, feeling like Godzilla rising out of the Gulf of Mexico to tower over Greater Tampa Bay, and pointed down at her. “You’re vice president of the student council,” I said. “Your boyfriend is president of the student council. Is that because you ran for president and he beat you? No, it’s because you ran for vice president in the first place. And how did that happen? Either he decided he was going to take the front seat while you took the back, and he informed you of his decision, or you decided to take the back seat, so he wouldn’t be mad at you.”
Kaye’s mouth crumpled in a little frown, and her dark eyes blazed. “And how is that worse than what you’re doing, trying to make sure Will is in charge instead of you?”
“It’s worse because I’m not giving you a damn lecture!”
She stomped off. All I could see was her hair twists bopping down the hall. I had tunnel vision, which happened to me when I got really angry, about once a year.
“Breathe,” Harper said.
I’d forgotten she was standing there. Looking around the hall, I saw that I’d attracted everyone’s attention, which I was getting really good at lately. Sawyer leaned against the lockers, watching me, waiting to listen to me when I was ready.