A Fine Line (8 page)

“None of your business.”

“Is that your new boyfriend?”

“Way too personal a question, buddy.”

Wes said flirtatiously, “How am I supposed to get on your good side if you never talk to me?”

Lucy was about to walk inside, when she turned around and said, “Seriously, prove that you want to learn something about me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You seem smart enough, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” With that, ponytail swinging, she shut the door in his face. Wes cringed, but then smiled. Unlike the obviously available cheerleaders, Lucy was making the “hard to get” thing a lot of fun.

You need to do something big.

Like what?

What’s the most important thing to her?

Marching band? Drumline?

So, check out the halftime show.

I can’t. Coach will kill me!

Do you like the girl or not?

Excellent point.

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT: Sing, Sing, Sing (With a Swing)

Lucy picked up Bronwyn before the second home game of the season. It was a perfect late summer evening and Bronwyn was bursting with excitement at how far the show had come in the past couple of weeks. The senior Fluegers would be attending and she was pumped that her parents could see how far things had come since band camp. Lucy seemed distracted as she drove and Bronwyn didn’t want to push things with her new upperclassman friend by questioning the senior’s personal life. Bronwyn still thought that any day Lucy would wake up and realize she was just some dorky freshman and stop having anything to do with her. Bronwyn had heard rumors in the past week that Lucy’s relationship with former rival school Drum Captain, Sam, was over, but didn’t feel like bringing up that particular subject with her favorite bass drummer. Together, the girls walked into the school. Lucy looked at Bronwyn and said, “I’ll have to catch you in there. I forgot something at my car.”

Bronwyn shrugged and hurried over to the band room, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of Drew. Ever since he talked to her during the game, they had been exchanging stupid jokes and one-liners at inappropriate times during the show. Bronwyn didn’t realize how much she was coming to really look forward to those little moments.

Watching Bronwyn scurry down the hall, Lucy took a deep breath; suddenly second guessing her and Tom’s stunt.

What are you worried about?

Uh, hello? We’re not exactly Mr. Izzo’s favorite section, you know?

What’s the worst that could happen?

He could kick you both out. Take away your Lieutenant Braid?

Lucy frowned at that thought. She really liked wearing the shiny silver braid on her uniform.

No. We’ve come too far. Plus, this will live in infamy. I’m doing it.

Lucy went back to her car and grabbed the bag with her “other uniform.” Walking into the school, she went directly to a girl’s bathroom in the freshman hall and put on her recently purchased garments under her uniform. She and Tom had taped up her shoes the night before so she could easily remove the black tape on the far side of the field.

Whistling the tune of the opener as she walked, Lucy smiled to herself;
no one has a clue…

At the same time Lucy was getting ready for the game, across the school’s campus in the locker room, Wes nervously tied his shoes. Sean, one of his teammates, clapped him on the shoulder pad, “What’s up, dude? There’s no reason to be nervous. We’re going to totally stomp East Hemingway.”

Wes smiled at his teammate’s confidence. He wasn’t nervous about the game, and knew that the Flyers probably wouldn’t even need his extra points or field goals. The British transfer student was worried about what the Coach was going to do after he didn’t show for the traditional halftime locker room pep talk.

The bass Lieutenant walked to the band room already in uniform, which was a little out of the ordinary, but no one really seemed to notice. She saw that Tom’s quints and carrier were gone and assumed he was already outside in the warm up half-arc. She grabbed her own carrier and instrument and headed outside, barely able to keep the grin off her face.

The band marched down to the field and Lucy again wondered why her gaze returned to where the football players warming up. Feeling protected by her uniform, Lucy took full advantage of being incognito.

Like he would even know what section of the band to look at…

Sheesh, give him some credit. He did kick a hole in your drum.

Yeah, but who wants to look at a bunch of polyester when the Auxiliaries are around.

For not the first time in marching career, Lucy desperately wished she could march a game in one of the form fitting Guard or Majorette uniforms.

You’re kind of getting your wish tonight…

Lucy smiled, thinking of the cute dress that was currently sticking to her under her uniform.

So what? It’s not like he’s going to see the performance.

From across the field, green eyes behind a football helmet were darting over to the marching band…and especially at the drumline. Wes smiled, noting how the uniform made Lucy look positively tiny when lined up to the rest of the Line.

She’s going to be so surprised…

You’re risking a lot.

So what? It’s not like I actually give a crap about this kind of football. My season doesn’t really start until the spring.

True.

Plus, I’m practically their only kicker. What’s Coach going to do about it?

As the buzzer sounded for the end of the first half, Bronwyn helped the other Front Line members wheel the different mallet instruments into place. She was all set and waiting for the show to start when she noticed a football player on the track. Squinting her eyes, she thought she recognized the hot senior that everyone was talking about. He smiled at her and murmured softly, “Don’t tell anyone I was here, okay?”

Bronwyn could only nod mutely.

On the far side of the field, Lucy and Tom planned on staying as far apart from each other until the last possible moment, not wanting to give anything away. With the band in place, Tom looked at Lucy, and nodding, they each took off their drums and quickly started peeling off their uniforms. The rest of the bass line and most of the quints started whistling and cheering, watching their section mates strip down. The young cymbals’ eyes almost popped out of their head.

It’s not like they can see anything…

Lucy had made sure to get a pair of cute bloomers to wear under her dress.

Billy, further ahead with the snares, turned around at the commotion, and seeing Tom and Lucy pulling off their clothes asked, “What in the HELL are you guys doing?”

Tom was already pulling on his quints back on, “You’ll see.”

Lucy was glad to be rid of her sweltering uniform. She pulled off the tape on her shoes to reveal two tone saddle shoes. Tom was wearing his black and white Doc Martens. The section was instantly quieted when Fred blew the whistle and the Forrest Hills Marching Band took the field.

Still wearing his uniform, Wes knew he was completely out of place and was waiting for one of the assistant coaches to come and drag him back to the locker room, but the moment never came. He had watched the marching band gather on the far side of the field and wondered where Lucy was in the group. Suddenly, there were three short bursts of a whistle and then a single drum beat. Wes wished he had taken a seat far up near the top of the grandstands – from his view on the track he was never going to be able to see the whole show.

Too late now. Better enjoy what you can.

With the opener complete and the second song about to begin, Tom and Lucy peeled out of formation, threw their instruments on the sidelines and began their swing dance routine to the sounds of “Sing, Sing, Sing (with a Swing).” The look on Drew’s face from the Drum major podium was priceless. Lucy and Tom easily went through their choreographed steps and the large crowd began cheering wildly. Lucy was having the time of her life when she locked eyes with one very confused football player standing on the sidelines. Her heart started pounding in her chest.

What in the hell is Wes doing here?

Somehow, mostly through Tom’s strong lead, Lucy managed to finish the routine. As the song came to an end and Tom and Lucy finished with a tricky aerial stunt, the crowd went crazy. Tom dipped Lucy in an elaborate way and then they frantically, completely out of breath, grabbed and threw their drums back on to scramble back to their set.

Trying to regain his breath, Tom managed to say, “That was awesome!”

At that moment, Lucy didn’t care what the punishment was; dancing in front of almost the entire school to the sounds of the best live band in the county was worth any amount of detention. Strangely, her thoughts drifted not back to her amazing performance, but instead, to what exactly a certain fully dressed football player was doing on the sidelines during the show.

Drew, who had been directing the piece, was probably the only person on the whole field who was not smiling as he climbed down the Drum major podium. He looked at Bronwyn and practically growled, “Did you have any idea?”

Bronwyn, who hadn’t turned around during the entire song, looked confused, “About what?”

Drew shrugged angrily, “Check with Lucy during third quarter.”

With that, he marched off, leaving one very confused freshman.

The halftime show finished with a flourish and the Line started up a rousing cadence to march off the field – mostly to cover up the conversation that was taking place between its members. As the percussionists had been the closest to Lucy and Tom’s performance, they each had an opinion. The cadence ended and the Line put their instruments back in the stands. On the track, Mr. Izzo took one look at Lucy and Tom and strictly motioned them both to follow him. With many years of experience of working with high school students, Mr. Izzo was usually a level person, but when he did get mad, he did the whole “controlled rage radiating off in waves” intimidation thing pretty well.

Nervously, the pair followed their band director to the far side of the field, a good distance away from anyone in their band. The wonderful feelings Lucy had on the field quickly dissipated.

Mr. Izzo looked at them sternly and asked, “Would either of you like to tell me what exactly that was?”

Tom, with his quick wit, replied, “We thought we could improve the show.”

Lucy elbowed her friend sharply and added, “It was just once, that’s all. It was some sort of misguided senior prank, sir.”

Mr. Izzo looked off at the rest of the band, goofing off as they visited the concession stand, and said, “I wish you would’ve come to me first.”

Tom asked, “Why?”

“I think it’s a, uh, well, actually, a great idea and if you had come to me, we could’ve done more to work it into the show.”

Lucy and Tom were quiet as Mr. Izzo continued, “You know you should both be given detention—”

“But?” Tom started to interrupt the band director.

“Let me finish. I think what you two have done is actually…I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but, it’s actually a nice addition. I know a lot of bands have done the Big Band thing before, but I think your ‘performance’ is something that will really set this show apart. Now, on Tuesday, I’d like to find a way to more seamlessly fit it into the show. The whole running up and being out of breath thing just isn’t going to cut it. What do you say?”

Tom and Lucy looked at each other, before Lucy said, “We’d be happy to.”

Tom asked, “Is that all, sir?”

Mr. Izzo let out a deep sigh, wondering if he was doing the right thing, “Yes.”

Lucy and Tom weren’t the only ones getting a strange reception. After the show, Wes decided it was probably best if he just stayed down at the field, rather than risk getting caught on his way back to the locker room. Wes had been amazed by the halftime show and could easily see why it took up most of Lucy’s time and energy. What he hadn’t expected was the dancing element. Watching Lucy swing dance had definitely set off jealous twinge in Wes’s system. As his teammates made their way back down to the field, the Flyers kicker was surprised when none of them commented on his locker room absenteeism. He thought he had completely escaped any notice, when the Coach approached him. Wes didn’t trust the look in his eye.

In low tones, Coach asked him, “Would you like to explain where you’ve been for the past half hour?”

Wes shrugged and answered, “Not really.”

“You’re going to pay for this little stunt on Monday – just giving you fair warning.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I run this team and when I ask my players to come to the locker room, it is not a request. Are we understood?”