Tell (2 page)

“This is lame,” Felicia complained as the two of them made their way toward the high school.  “I was
so
not ready to come back.”

“Me either,” Cadie answered.  “But, still, it’s kind of exciting, don’t you think?”

“Exciting for
you
, maybe.  You’re a senior.  This is your last year.  Whereas when
I
finish this school year, I still have to come back again.”

“Yeah.  Sucks to be you,” Cadie said brightly.

Felicia just growled in response.

“Oh, God, guess what Susan was talking about this morning.  The other day she was out walking her dog and Shane talked to her and she was completely convinced that he likes her.  Because he was flirting with her.”

“Did you explain to her that he flirts with anything with boobs?”

“I left out the part about the boobs.  I figured that didn’t apply to her.”

Felicia laughed.

Cadie took a deep breath, preparing herself for the question she was about to ask.  “When does Brian leave?”  Brian Mackereth, Felicia’s boyfriend, had graduated from high school that June and had been accepted to
The Ohio State University, which was at least a five-hour drive away.  Cadie knew that Felicia was dreading when her boyfriend would pack up and go to college.

Felicia let out a sigh.  “Two weekends from now,” she answered.

“They start late,” Cadie remarked.

“They run on quarters instead of semesters.”

Cadie looked at Felicia strangely.  “What does
that
mean?”

“I don’t know.  That’s how Brian explained it to me, as if I was supposed to understand.  What’s the difference between a quarter and a semester?  I didn’t ask him.  I didn’t want him to think I was collegiately challenged.”

The first bell rang, signaling that they only had three minutes until they were to be in homeroom, and Cadie had not even attempted to find her locker.  “I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Yeah, see you later.”

Two

Shane’s English class contained all the same people that it had last year.  With a school as small as theirs (about one hundred kids per grade), there was not much variety.  Last year, Shane had taken all honors classes, and every class was populated with the same students.

Shane had started out in the academic classes as a freshman, but slowly added an honors class or two as the years progressed.  This year, he was taking all honors classes except for calculus.  He was actually taking AP calculus, a fact that he had hidden from his friends, for fear of their relentless taunting.  They had always called him the brainy one, even though he did not really consider himself that smart.  Felicia was the brain.  He was the jock.  It was all very simple.  Almost mathematical, but he would never admit to coming up with that.

His friend Will Cowher plopped into the seat beside him.  “Hey, man, did you do the summer reading?” Will asked him.

Shane raised an eyebrow, and the two of them cracked up.  In all his years of high school, Shane had
never
done the summer reading, and it had never once come back to bite him in the ass.  They seemed to read the same books every year.  “What was even on the list?” he asked Will.

“Um…
The Great Gatsby, 1984, King Lear, Oedipus Rex,
and
Ethan Frome
.”

Shane nodded.  Yes, he had read all of those in the past.  For whatever reason, the teachers in the school did not seem to communicate their lesson plans to one another, because they seemed to learn the same things all the time.   “We didn’t have to do anything, did we?”

“Not for today.  We’re supposed to have written papers on all of them by the end of the month, I think. 
Oedipus Rex
is due on Monday.”

“Damn.”

“Fortunately, I’m prepared,” Will said under his breath.  “I wouldn’t have taken this class if I didn’t know I could pass it.  I have all my brother’s old papers.”

Shane snorted.  “Lucky you.”

“Well, come on.  You either have to have people’s old homework or SparkNotes bookmarked on your browser to actually pass honors English.  Who has time to do all of that shit?”  He did not wait for an answer before changing the subject to something he considered to be much more interesting.  “Did you get laid a lot this summer?”

Shane shrugged one shoulder.

“Come on, that’s not an answer.”  Will raised his eyebrows suggestively.  “I saw Amanda this morning.  She looked pretty good.”

Shane smirked.  “No comment on that,” he answered.  “How about you?”

“Just Stacy.”

“You’re still dating Stacy?” he asked in alarm.

“Yeah.  What of it?”

Shane shook his head.  “Nothing.”  Will had taken Stacy Monroe, a girl on the cheerleading squad, to their junior prom, and had started going out with her shortly afterwards.  Shane was surprised that the relationship was still going on; not only that, but that Will was not having sex with anyone else, which was very much unlike him.

Mr. Johnson strode into the room then, and the chatter around them died away slowly as he began passing out syllabi printed on bright yellow paper.  “Someone used up all the regular paper in the copy room,” he said bluntly, as if answering a question.  “It’s the first day of school, the teachers get paid virtually nothing, and we can’t even get white paper when we want it.  I hate this place.”

“Fair enough,” Shane muttered, accepting the stapled packet that Kristy Erickson passed back.  He scanned over the syllabus and his eyes zeroed in on the section labeled “Summer Reading Assignments.” 

For each of the five assigned summer reading works,
the syllabus read,
students should submit a paper in which they discuss the main characters, identify the central themes and significant symbolism, and analyze select quotes.
  The syllabus went on to list the parameters of the paper and the due dates for each one.  Will had been correct when he had said that
Oedipus Rex
was due the following Monday.

Shane sat back in his seat, relieved.  The papers did not have to be too long and they did not seem to be terribly involved.  He was grateful that he had decided not to take AP English.  School was going to be a breeze this year, just like it always had been.  Except maybe calculus, but he could work extra hard in that class.  He had always liked math.  He
was planning on taking the SATs this year, and he would probably do well on those, because he was a pretty good test-taker, too.  He could most likely get into whatever college he wanted.  Now he just had to figure out what the hell he wanted to do with his life.

Melody sat right behind him, as she had since seventh grade, so it was no surprise that she had memorized everything about the back of his head.  Andy Vandevander had a cowlick right at the spot where the top of his head curved to the back.  He had a birthmark right behind his left earlobe.  He wore the same silver chain all the time; she had seen him without it once, and where it had been was white and pasty, whereas the rest of his skin was a nice bronze color.

She had the back of his head memorized, but it did not compare to the front of him.  He sat down and stowed his saxophone case underneath his seat before turning around to face her.  His eyes were a beautiful color of aqua.  His rich brown hair framed a long, oval-shaped face with perfect features.

“What lunch do you have?” he asked.

“Third,” she responded.

“Damn it,” he answered.  “I have second.”

“You’re a junior, Andy.  You get a little higher priority than I do.”

“Well, who the hell am I supposed to hang out with?”

“I’m sure you have other friends.”

“None as fun as you.”  His face was aimed down toward the green schedule clutched in his hands, so he could not see the color rise in Melody’s face.  “Man, this sucks.  Why couldn’t you have been a year older?”

“Why don’t you fail this year?  That would solve everything.”

He fiddled with his schedule, looking off into the distance as if he was seriously contemplating purposely flunking eleventh grade.  But when he spoke, it was about something completely different.  “Do you know Amanda Teller?”

“I know
of
her,” Melody replied.

“What do you know about her?”

“I know that she’s a cheerleader and that she had sex with Shane Stolarz,” she responded.

He looked at her in alarm.  “How do you know that?”

“Because she cheers at the games,” Melody answered dryly.

“No, I mean—”

“I know what you meant.  Cadie told me that Amanda had had sex with Shane.  I assume she found out from Felicia.”

“She’s in your grade, right?”

“Felicia?” Melody asked, smiling.  “She’s in yours.”

“No, Amanda,” Andy shot back, sounding frustrated. 

Evidently he did not find her deliberate obtuseness as amusing as she did.  “Yes, she’s a sophomore,” Melody said defensively.

Andy nodded, looking pensive, but before Melody could ask him what was on his mind, their band director came out of his office and Andy turned back around in his seat.

Second period would mean band rehearsal for Melody until she graduated.  Today and Thursday, the band room would be crowded; Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, it would only be half-full, because those were the days that the chorus rehearsed, and a good portion of the kids who were in band were in choir as well.  Melody was one of those people.  However, this year she was considering dropping it.  Last year, almost all of their songs had been of the dragging, depressing, Jesus-praising variety.  Not that Melody had anything against praising Jesus, but it was typically more exciting if it was upbeat.

Melody preferred being in the band.  She would rather play her trumpet than use her voice.  Mr. Bell, their director, was skilled at choosing music that was
more interesting for their marching shows.  For their Christmas concerts, he tended to lean toward cheerful carols instead of dissonant hymns.  He was also a lot mellower than Mrs. Abernathe, the choir director, whom many kids were convinced snorted a line of cocaine before every rehearsal.

Mr. Bell clapped his hands together, a typical sign that he was ready to start rehearsal.  “Okay, gang,” he said.  “Apparently Mrs. Abernathe has something she needs to speak to the choir members about, so if that means you, head on over to the auditorium for a quick meeting, but be back here when you’re done.”

Melody watched about half the band rise and depart the band room.  Andy shifted in his seat.  Mr. Bell caught Melody’s eye and looked at her quizzically.

“Melody, aren’t you doing chorus this year?”

She shook her head, not eager to offer up an explanation.  She sighed inwardly when he motioned for her to come forward.  She stood resignedly, setting her trumpet carefully on her seat, and wound her way up front.

“Sometime when you have a study hall or some day after school, do you think you could gather some people together to help me sort through the old music?” he requested.  “That room back there is a mess.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Sure,” she responded, caught off guard.  “Um, I don’t have any study halls, but all I have going for me after school is band, so any other day I’m free.”

“No problem,” he said.  He was looking at her oddly.  When she turned to go, he asked, “Why aren’t you doing chorus this year?”

“Oh, I just…”  Melody trailed off into a shrug, though that was not really an answer.

“She’s going to be really uptight with me,” Mr. Bell warned, but his eyes were smiling.

“She’ll live,” Melody responded, smiling as well.  She turned around and made her way back to her seat.  Her eyes searched for Andy automatically, just like they always had, but to no avail—he was not there.  She furrowed her brow and lowered herself into her seat slowly, eyes darting around for him, but he was not in the band room anywhere.

Mr. Bell took his place at the large wooden podium.  “Could I have an F concert scale, please?”

Melody raised the trumpet to her lips obediently, and the remaining members of the band ran through a few warm-up scales, then two stand tunes, including “On Wisconsin” and “Louie, Louie,” before the band room door opened again.  Those who had been excused for the choir meeting began pouring back into the room.  Melody noticed with alarm that one member of the swarm was Andy.  He filed into the rows of chairs and took his seat in front of her, lifting his saxophone.  He did not look at her.  He did not say a word.

The remainder of rehearsal passed slowly.  Melody was distracted.  When it was over, Mr. Bell instructed them to put their instruments away, but she had something to take care of first.  She tapped Andy on the shoulder with two fingers.

“Shit!” Andy exploded, whirling around and dropping his mouthpiece.  Evidently she had tapped him a little harder than she had intended.  “What?”

“You’re doing choir this year?” she demanded.

“Yeah.  So?”  He continued taking his saxophone apart without really looking at her.

“So, what made you decide to do it this year?” she asked.  She hesitated, then added, “And why did you wait until I said I was going to quit to join?”  She had mentioned this little fact to him a few weeks before school had started.

“I was thinking about joining before you said you were going to quit,” he responded absently.

“You’ve never seemed interested in it before.”

“I just wanted to try something new,” he said peevishly.  “Why are you getting on my case about it?”

Melody hated the fact that when he confronted her, she immediately felt apologetic, sometimes completely unnecessarily.  This was one of those times.  “I just thought it was sort of weird, that’s all,” she said lamely.  Of course he had the right to do whatever organization he wanted, but he was acting strangely.  She felt the urge to smack some sense into him.  Fortunately, that passed.  She put her trumpet away and snapped the case closed.  She could not escape the heavy feeling in her gut, like she had just lost some major argument.

Melody stood to put her instrument away in the closet when Lucas Snyder walked over to the two of them.  Melody had known Lucas for years, but he was more Andy’s friend than he was hers.  “Hey, guys,” he said.  “How’s it going?”

“Melody’s giving me the third degree about joining choir,” Andy responded, without looking at Lucas.

Lucas wrinkled his nose.  “Ew.  Why are you joining choir?”

Andy rolled his eyes and did not answer.

Lucas turned his attention to Melody.  “How was your summer?” he asked her.

“It was decent.  Nothing special.”  She was distracted by Andy’s cattiness.  “How about yours?”

“I got my license in July,” he offered.  “I don’t have to take the bus anymore.”

“Well, that’s cool.”

Andy just grunted.  His mother was one of the secretaries in the main office and still drove him to school every day.  Andy himself had just gotten his license about two weeks ago.