Stacy's Song (10 page)

*
***

I continued going to band practice as often as I could manage. Michael was doing amazing things with sound since he got the new synthesizer. His experiments wer
e unique. Every time I listened
I felt like a fly caught in a spider's web. But the band
took too much of my time. Sure
t
here was a lull in cheerleading but even so
I was ver
y busy with too many activities
,
including the honor of being Junior Class Treasurer, a position I only won owing to my sudden popularity as a cheerleader.

The band competition was a high poin
t for all of us. We won locally
;
that is
,
we played against seven other bands from our re
gion. I know it sounds immodest
but none of
them compared to us. Of course
we had an advantage in that the competition was held at our school. Michael had been almost certain
we would win on that level. Now he told us
the hard part would begin. We would have to face a statewide competition.

There was only one b
ad moment in the entire evening
and it occurred as we were leaving the high school. Jimmy and Liz went ahead to load the equipment into the van. I followed with Michael. Just ahead of us were two boys, underclassmen. We couldn't help overhearing them because they talked so loud.

“I don't think the group that won was so great,” said the first boy who had zits the size of watermelons.

“Neither do I. Bet they only got the win because
that kid was blind.” His friend
,
short and fat
,
mumbled as he
munched on a chocolate bar.

“Yeah,” agreed zit face
, “what else is there for a blind guy to do but play music?”

“He's a waste of life,” the chubby kid added.

Michael's f
ree hand became a clenched fist
as
the large biceps in his arm tensed. I held to him tightly. The two boys moved on.

“Forget them. They're a couple of immature wimps
,
” I said in a quiet voice.

“They're probably right,” he responded in a hoarse whisper.

“No way!” I realized how committed to him I was. His pain was my pain. I also realized that caring so much about Michael was not a good thing for me. It could only lead to hurt.

*
***

Michael kept us pra
cticing just as before
,
in fact with an even greater intensity
if tha
t was possible. In the meantime
Mr. Kemp was pleased with us and we continued playing at the club for Teen
Night every Friday. One evening
during se
ts
he brought a man over to meet us. They were both puffing on cigars in a chummy manner. I tried to stand upwind, since the odor
made me sick to my stomach.
T
hey were practically human ashtrays! It w
as illegal to smoke in the club
but I wasn't about to remind them of the fact.

“Kids
,
I want you to meet Ed Ferris. Ed's an agent. He's very impressed with you.”

Ferris took Michael's pale, tapered hand in his own big, beefy one and shook it heartily. “Yeah, you kids have a lot of talent. Although you look a little
too clean-cut for the pro scene
,
who knows
,
maybe people would welcome a change. And looks can always be changed. Anyway, that's the last thing we got to worry about. We have peop
le who can take care of it. See
,
I'm willing to sign you kids
to a contract
,
be your personal manager, your mentor. How does that sound?”

I exc
hanged looks with Liz and Jimmy
but it was Michael who responded. “We have to think about it. We're not ready to go professional, at least not yet.”

Ed Ferris grinned at us. “Smart kid! You think I might be shifty, don't you? Well, you could be right. Tell you what, if I can cut you a go
od deal, I'll be back. Meantime
don't sign with anyone else!”

“That's an easy promise to make,” Mi
chael assured him. “Like I said
we're not ready yet. We're still in school.”

“That's not a problem either.”

“We'll see,” Michael said.

Michael's response gave me a sense of relief. I was afr
aid he'd jump at Ferris's offer
but Michael was more levelheaded than I'd thought. Still there was no doubt we were getting to think of ourselves
as professionals. For one thing
Michael now insisted all money we earned be divided equally between us.

“Lively times ahead of us,” Michael said when the two men left us.

“That's for sure,” Jimmy agreed, making the thumbs-up sign. “I'm gonna tell my old man. Maybe now he'll stop thinking of this as kid stuff.” He gave Liz a smacking kiss on the cheek.

“Wouldn't it be great if Mr. Ferris could get us a contract?” Liz said, glowing with excitement. She gave Jimmy a warm smile.

“Don't get ahead of yourself,” Michael said. “Fi
rst we have
to
create our own special sound.”

“We'll do it,” Jimmy said. “We'll kick some ass.”

“We'll see. I wasn't lying to Ferris when I said we weren't ready yet. We're not. We need more time.”

“If you say so.” Jimmy remained unconvinced.

“No matter,” Liz
said, “isn't it great? Come on
let's hug each other an
d say how great we are. Michael
,
you're our leader
you have to do it first.”

“That's dumb.”

“No, it's not!”

He smiled at her insistence. “Okay, okay,” Michael said with a shrug. He hugged Liz and told her she was great. Then he shook Jimmy's hand and told him the same thing.

“What about Stacy?” Liz demanded.

Michael's face colored.

“That's all right,” I said.

“No, it's not,” Liz persisted.

I started to back away, but Michael reached out and pulled me into his arms. He hugged me so tight I could barely breathe. I could almost hear his
heart beating through his chest. O
r was that my heart? I felt his warm breath on my cheek.

“You're great,” he said in a husky voice. “You're
the best.” Maybe I imagined it
but the way he said it to me sounded very different from the way he'd spoken to Jimmy or even Liz. He wasn't just indulging his sister's whim.

There was a tingling down my spine as he held me, and when he finally let m
e go, I felt all strange inside
like gelatin. Why couldn't I feel that way when Greg held me? It would have made everything so much easier.

*
***

In December, we started cheerleading for the Varsity Basketball games. I was still practicing for the band competition, trying to keep up with my extracurricular activities, study for my courses, and at the same time, have some semblance of a social life. I found myself increasingly nervo
us. I
did
try to study every free minute
and I continued to cut down on the amount of sleep I was getting.

I think I might have made it through this rough time okay if it hadn't been for
me getting sick again. At first
I thought it was just a cold and I guess I didn't bother taking care of it. I should have known it wasn't an ordinary cold because it didn't come with a normal sore throat.

One day
I started to cough and then the cough seemed to get worse. Then I got lightheaded and dizzy. I had a fever. My mother wanted me to s
tay home from school right away
but I told her I couldn't afford to miss classes. I took aspirin and figured the rotten thing would just run its course and go away. As things turned out, it didn't happen quite that way.

The third day
I woke u
p wheezing. My temperature had
spiked. My mother refused to let me
go to school, which
was just as well because I couldn't have walked to the bus. I was too weak.

Mom took me to our family doctor and he listened to my chest. The next thing I knew, I was scheduled for an x-ray. It turned out I had bacterial pneumonia. Luck
y for me
I responded to antibiotics. The doctor let me return to school after ten d
ays. I was still feeling rotten
,
plus I was way behind in my work.

I dragged thr
ough a couple of days at school taking a few makeup tests
for which I was ill prepared. The whole thing came to a head when my physics teacher phoned my mother. He explained that I was in danger of failing the course for the marking period. I b
egged my mother not to tell Dad
but she said we didn't keep secre
ts from each other. She did say
tho
ugh
that she wanted me to be the one to tell him.

It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. He looked at
me in the most disappointed way
like I had let him down. I could have told him I was a druggie or a serial killer and he wouldn't have taken it any worse.

“It's time I laid down the law around here,” he said, making like a th
ird world dictator. “Young lady
,
I've been very lax with you. I've let you do whatever you wish and I can see now that
was a mistake. It's clear to me
you don't study.”

“No, that's not it. I do study. I just don't have enough time. I'm so busy.”

His eyes narrowed. “Well
,
we'll have to make time
won't we?”

I
didn't like the tone of his voice. He rarely spoke to me that way; in fact, the last time I can remember was when I was four years old and decided to draw a great painting on the living room wall with my crayons.

“Don't you have any idea how important it is to have good grades? You can't get into a decent college without them!”

“So you've told me. But look
,
Dad, maybe I don't want to go to college after all.”

He looked as if I'd stabbed him with a butcher knife. “What would you do instead?” His face had turned the color of the rare roast Mom was carving for dinner.

“Well
,
I could be a musician. Our group is becoming very professional.”

“I don't believe it!” He shouted so loud Mom and I just stared at him. “It's the inf
luence of that sleazy blind boy
isn't it?”

“He's not sleazy
,
Dad! Michael is very special.” I surprised myself. I don't think I ever argued with my father before, and certainly not when he was this mad.

“I don't want to do this
since you seem
to think so highly of the group
but you're going to have to quit.”

“Quit the band?” I looked at him in horror and shock.

“Something has to give. Everything else is important.
I'm sorry
,
Stacy
,
but you must quit that band. You have no other options.”

I turned to my mother for support, but she shook her head and refused to meet my eyes.

My mother
had dinner on the table by then
but I was unable to eat. I excused myself and went to my room t
o lie down. Quit the band? Well that certainly was a solution
,
I supposed.
Hadn't I often told Michael he demanded too much of me? How many times had I been close to quitting on my own anyway? Besides, Michael didn't need me. They would find some other musician, probably one with more talent. But how could I tell them?

I wanted—needed—to talk it ov
er with my mother or even Karen
but I couldn't. It was all locked up ins
ide of me.
I couldn't explain how I felt to anyone else. I was so tired and troubled that night I fell asleep without ever leaving my room.

During the night
I woke up at the touch of a cool hand on my forehead. I didn't have to
open my eyes. It was my mother
checking on me just as she had when I was a little child. I rolled ove
r and went back to sleep. Later
there were dreams, troubled ones.

When I woke in the morning, I couldn't remember what I dreamt. All I remembered was that Michael had been in them and there had been a sense of longing when I awoke.

I skipped the next band
practice
,
calling to tell Liz I was still feeling sick. I was behaving in a weak manner but I just couldn't face them. Michael had only called once during the time I was ill and the conversation had been stilted. I found it impossible to tell what he was
thinking or feeling. However
,
Liz phoned every day and even came to visit. Karen called a few times but nev
er came by at all. In many ways
Liz was a better friend than Karen. How would I ever tell her I had to leave the band? She would never understand. The thought was too painful. Yet I couldn't go against my f
ather. I also knew he was right,
something had to give. But did it have to be the band?