To meet You Again (3 page)

               
“Well,” Ms. Iamb crossed her arms, “then maybe you two should join the committee.
We’re meeting every day after school from four to five. I expect to see you
both there today.”

               
“Yes, ma’am,” Angelo smiled and saluted. I smiled, showing my teeth. When Ms.
Iamb went back to the front of the classroom, Angelo gave me two fingers, and I
flicked at his nose. “This is
all your
fault,” he
frowned.

               
“You were the one who decided not to stick with the notes,” I crossed my arms
and
laid
back onto the chair.

               
“I would have if you didn’t invite Vernal,” he crossed his arms.

               
“What’s your problem with him anyway? You don’t know him,” I shook my head,
irritation growing.

               
“Neither do you, and that’s the point,” he turned to face me. “You’ve been
obsessing over the guy for, what, two years? A guy you never even talked to up
until whenever it was you decided to invite him to our anti-Valentine karaoke.”

               
“I am not obsessing,” I said defensively.

               
“Yeah?” he challenged, “Then explain why you invited him to anti-Valentine
karaoke the moment you got the chance.”

               
“Angelo de
Laurentiis
and Ruby
Balbacois
,”
Ms. Iamb scolded from the front. “Those had better be some very good ideas you
have if you can’t stop talking about them.”

               
“Sorry, Ms.
Iamb,”Angelo
and I said in the rehearsed
apologetic tone every student uses in moments like this.

             
“Since this is your first offense, I’ll let you off with a warning,” she
smirked, as if she were so righteous in “forgiving” us.

               
“Thank you, Ms. Iamb,” Angelo and I said in the rehearsed thankful tone every
student uses in moments like this, which, if you listened carefully, was the
exact same tone used for apologies as well. Why couldn’t the teachers tell? Oh yeah,
because they’re all too busy being self-righteous and acting as if they’re
always right and know everything.

               
It turns out that Ms. Iamb was just being all talk, as usual. Angelo and I
skipped out on the meeting and went straight to the karaoke place. When Don
arrived at the small room we rented, he told us that Ms. Iamb didn’t inform
them of any new committee members.

               
“So, who’s up first?” Don asked.

               
“Whoever wants to,” Angelo crossed his arms and
laid
back onto the couch.

               
“Um, I know,” I said hastily, trying to ease the tension. “The most ironic love
song of all time.
Love Song.”
Angelo laughed, and then
glared when Don said,

               
“I don’t get it.
The one by Sara
Bareilles
?”

               
“Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s ironic because-”

               
“Because it’s a song about how she’s not going to write a love song, but the
song in itself is a love song,” Angelo explained in a condescending tone, as if
Don was stupid for not getting it.

               
“Oh yeah,” Don chuckled awkwardly. “That’s pretty…
If you
think about it…Yeah.”

               
We continued this way for the next half hour – picking songs and explaining
each song choice to Don. Angelo’s irritation grew with every song choice… for
the next five songs. After that, it seemed to drop. All the same, both Don and
I became less and less on edge as Angelo relaxed.

               
“Hey, Vernal,” Angelo called, “Ruby and I have been so rude – we’ve been
hogging the mike this whole time. You should sing something.”

               
“Oh no,” he shook his head. “I don’t really sing.”

               
“Then why did you come with us to karaoke?” Angelo was obviously trying to
undermine Don. “You know, where the whole point is to sing?”

               
“Well, I thought it would be fun,” Don shrugged. “I appreciate music. I play
guitar more than I sing.”

               
“Well you can’t play an instrument and be tone deaf at the same time,” Angelo
insisted, “so you must be able to sing.”

               
“Angelo,” I interjected, “if Don doesn’t want to sing he doesn’t have to.”

               
“No, Ruby,” Don smiled, “
it’s
fine. You’re right. If
we’re here for karaoke I might as well sing something. Just prepare for your
ears to bleed.
Or for it to start raining really hard.”

               
As Don flipped through the song book Angelo elbowed me and gave me a face that
said “Can you believe it? This guy is a joke.” I gave him back a look that said
“Be nice.”

               
“Okay,” both Angelo and I turned to face Don, “We’re supposed to be making fun
of love songs, right?”

               
“That’s the whole point of anti-Valentine karaoke, so sure,” Angelo crossed his
arms.

               
“Well, so how about…” he hesitated.

               
“Well?” Angelo challenged. “What did you choose?” He was obviously ready to
undermine any choice Don made. It would be easy. As far as I could tell, Angelo
could win any and every argument possible. He was that good… That’s why he was
so annoying to be around sometimes; because with that
powercame
great arrogance.

               
“I didn’t really choose anything,” Don began. “I just have an idea.”

               
“Idea for what?”
I asked.

               
“Hmm,” Angelo joked, “I don’t think I know that song.” I slapped him hard on
the arm.

               
“I was thinking that maybe we could start a band,” Don said.

               
“What?” Angelo and I asked.

               
“Well,” Don defended, “you guys can sing, and it’s obvious you guys like to
sing. I like playing guitar but I don’t like singing. So maybe we could come
together and jam. It could be fun.”

               
Angelo burst out laughing. “Can you believe this guy? Seriously, dude? You
can’t be serious.”

               
“It was just a thought,” Don shrugged.

               
“I think it’s a good idea,” I smiled.

               
“Ruby!”
Angelo threw his hands in the air. “You cannot
be serious!”

               
“I really think it’s a good idea,” I nodded. “Right you have that box drum
thing and an electronic keyboard?”

               
“What does the box drum thing and electronic keyboard have to do with
anything?” Angelo raised an eyebrow, irritated.

               
“Well, you can play either one of those depending on the song, and Don can play
guitar, and I can sing,” I explained. “It would be fun, and portable. We could
take turns jamming at each other’s houses.”

               
“Portable?” Angelo repeated.

               
“Really?”
I was exasperated. “That’s all you got from
what I said? Portable?”

               
“I’m just confused as to how it being portable is a point for it?” Angelo
clarified. “Are you planning on us performing in places?
Flash
mobbing and that crazy, stupid shit?”

               
“It could be fun,” I mused. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”

               
“Yeah,” Don agreed. “Besides, we don’t have to perform. We can just make music.
It’s fun.”

               
“What about your Valentine’s fair committee?” Angelo reminded.

               
“We could start after Valentine’s,” Don suggested.

               
“Okay,” Angelo nodded emphatically. “That’s a good idea. Because, by then, you
all will have probably forgotten about it and I will be happy.”

               
“Or…” Don rocked on his heels.

               
“Or what?”
Angelo glared.

               
“We’re looking for a band to perform at the fair,” Don said.

               
“No. NO. No, no, no, NO!” Angelo protested.

               
“What’s the matter, Angelo?” I challenged.
“Chicken?”

               
“Of course not,” Angelo crossed his arms.

               
“Prove it,” I grinned.

               
“Fine!”
Angelo threw his hands up. “We’ll make a
stupid band. Are you happy?”

**   
 *     *     *

I managed to bully Angelo into letting us hold
our first rehearsal at his house. Don officialised our performing at the
Valentine’s fair, so there was no turning back now.

               
“So how long is the concert going to be?” I asked Don.

               
“Whoa, concert?” Angelo laughed. “
Chillax
Ruby. Don’t
you think you’re getting way in over your head? Concert…
Pffft
. Ridiculous.”

               
“I’m being optimistic,” I pouted.

               
“How about we try and find out if we can actually sound good first?” Angelo
suggested sarcastically.

               
“Do you guys always argue this much?” Don asked.

               
“Yes,” Angelo and I answered and then laughed.

               
“Anyway, they’re expecting an hour,” Don announced. “So that’s… about twenty
songs?”

               
“Fifteen,” Angelo corrected.

               
“Twelve,” I challenged.

               
“Fifteen,” Angelo glared.

               
“So you don’t want a ten minute break in the middle?” I reminded.

               
“Fine, twelve,” Angelo rolled his eyes. He always got annoyed when I was able
to make points he couldn’t exactly refute.

             
“How about the songs we sang while we were at karaoke?” Don suggested. “I know
how to play all of those songs.”

               
“Sure, I guess,” I shrugged, “but that was only seven songs. We’d still need to
pick about five.”

               
“Well, that should be easy,” Don said. “After all, those seven songs were
chosen based on what was easy to make fun of. We could just pick five other
standard love songs.”

               
“Standard?”
Angelo asked, irritated, and I got
irritated at how easily he was being irritated. “What’s ‘standard’?”

               
“Classics,” Don tried to explain, “like The Beatles.”

               
“You think people of our generation give a damn about The Beatles?” Angelo
sneered.

               
“So you don’t like them?” Don asked.

               
“I love them, but-”

               
“So why not?” Don challenged. “You scared of people throwing things at you?”

               
“Of course not!”
Angelo began to raise his voice.
“We’re performing for the enjoyment of our classmates. So what’s the point of
performing if we’re not going to perform something they want to hear?”

               
“The Beatles aren’t popular, but that doesn’t mean people won’t like their
music. Their music is brilliant,” Don began to raise his voice as well.

               
“They’re not popular now because people don’t appreciate their type of music
anymore. They want rap and techno and all those noisy things,”
Angelo ‘s
voice went about a few notes higher.

               
“So are you saying we should rap?” Don’s voice went up a few notes, too.

               
“Guys, stop,” I stood between them. “You guys just gave me an idea.”

               
“What?” Angelo asked.

               
“We could take rap songs and change them up,” I suggested. “That way, we can
satisfy the general public and still perform good music.”

               
“Ruby, you do realize the fair is next Wednesday, right?” Don reminded.

               
“Yeah, Ruby, we don’t have time to make five arrangements,” Angelo agreed.

               
“Fine,” I crossed my arms. “Then how about each one of us picks one song, so
that occupies three? And then the last two can be… Well, we can have the
audience request.”

               
“Okay, then I
want
‘It Will Rain’ by Bruno Mars,” Don
announced.

               
“You’ll be singing it?” Angelo asked. Though, ‘to ask’ would imply that he was
interested in an actual answer. But the way he said it, I don’t believe he was.

               
“I thought we agreed I’d be the singer?” I reminded harshly.

               
“Sorry,” Angelo said. “I want us to do ‘More Than Words’ and I’ll duet with
you.”