Major Crush (13 page)

“Yes, we are,” Mr. Rush said in a soothing psychiatrist voice I’d never heard from him. Like he’d learned something in his education classes after all.

“No, you’re not,” Drew said. “You’re from Big Pine. Big Pine doesn’t have a cotton mill.”

“Big Pine has a paper mill,” Mr. Rush said in the same low voice. “My dad works in the paper mill.”

I saw then that Mr. Rush might talk tough to Drew, and Drew might lash back at Mr. Rush, but they got from each other something they didn’t get from the men in their families.

They understood each other.

In his normal voice Drew said, “I feel … better.” He squeezed my hand back and looked over at me, half-smiling.

“Isn’t that amazing?” Mr. Rush said. “Talking about your feelings helps you let go of your anger. A nd it takes a lot of energy to be angry all the time.”

“You should know,” I said.

“I’m working on it. I need to work on it some more because Martineaux thinks I’m a nutcase.”

I jumped as the heavy door to the band room crashed open. The line of boys dropped instrument cases on the floor with periodic thunks, and a saxophone player warmed up with scales and arpeggios. Just like the day in Drew’s truck, it had seemed for the last half hour like the world had been shut out, and there was no one but me and Drew.

A nd—oh yeah—our insane band director.

Mr. Rush stood up behind his desk. But I wasn’t ready to go. I couldn’t bare my feelings to Drew (and our insane band director), and listen to Drew bare his feelings to me (and our insane band director), and suddenly face the band again like snapping my fingers. I didn’t think Drew could either.

I let Drew’s hand go and slipped my arm protectively around him.

Mr. Rush got my message. “I’ll be in big trouble if I let you make out in my office.”

“I feel fed up,” I told him. “Would you please stop saying that Drew and I are making out or feeling each other up? Would you please stop trying to trick Drew into saying he thinks I’m pretty? Drew and I are friends. Just friends.”

Mr. Rush gave me the stare.

A nd this time I had to look away.

He stood there for a moment more. Just long enough to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible. Then he said, “I’ll go direct band practice. Remember the band? The marching band?” He opened the office door, letting in the giggles of freshman girls and the loud honks of the trombone chasing them. “Come out when you’re ready.” He closed the door behind him.

When Mr. Rush was with us and I’d held Drew’s hand, I was just trying to hold Drew steady. Now that Drew and I were alone again, the tingle returned. I rubbed my hand on his back, and fire shot up my arm.

He took several long, slow breaths, like he was trying to collect himself. Then he turned to me. His dark eyes glistened. He said again, “I feel better.”

I reached out a finger to touch a tear at the corner of his lashes.

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes.. Then he looked around on the floor beneath his chair.

“Did you lose your shoes again?” I asked.

“No, my bravado.” He laughed. “I know I left it around here somewhere.”

A llison looked beautiful reigning over the homecoming float, and of course she had the pageant smile and the pageant wave down pat. Sure enough, Tracey refused to ride on the float as Miss Victory. Good riddance. The homecoming committee pulled the crepe paper letters spelling MISS VICTORY out of the chicken wire on the back of the float and replaced them with white toilet paper before the parade started.

The parade went great. The band sounded terrific, and the crowd cheered wildly as we passed through the downtown streets, as if we did not suck. Drew and I were relieved because we hadn’t practiced the parade formation very much. We’d been too busy perfecting the halftime show for the contest the next weekend.

Then, at the homecoming game, the halftime show went great. This was the first game our hometown crowd had seen us in non-suck-o mode. When Drew and I did the dip, I felt the force of the crowd’s noise hit me in the side of the face. A nd at the end of the show, they went crazy again. The standing ovation was longer and louder than the one in Llama Town.

Drew and I brought up the rear of the band marching off the field. A s soon as we passed through the fence, we turned to each other and grabbed each other in a long hug.

Even though we did not like each other as more than friends. Because Drew was dating Miss Icktory s twin sister.

A nd then, over Drew’s shoulder, I saw Walter.

Or did I? He looked like Walter, but older. He’d gotten taller. A nd he’d grown a beard.

I’d already let Drew go in surprise at seeing Walter there. Now I was caught in an impossible situation. I wanted to go hug my best friend who wanted to be my boyfriend and who I did not want to be my boyfriend. If I didn’t, he’d be offended. With this added to the “talking to you is like talking to a girl” incident, he might never speak to me again.

But even more I wanted to keep hugging my partner who I wanted to be my boyfriend and who did not want to be my boyfriend. If I didn’t

…

Well, he didn’t. Drew turned to see what I was looking at, then walked away from me without another word to me. A s he passed Walter, he nodded and said evenly, “Walter.”

Walter said, “General.”

Drew punched Walter on the shoulder and kept walking.

“What’s eating him?” Walter asked me, rubbing his shoulder. Then he hugged me. He’d missed me. I would have missed him, too, except that so much had been going on with band, and Drew.

I wanted to be happy to see Walter. But I felt slightly nauseated.

Which, I assured myself, was because I’d skipped lunch.

His beard tickled my cheek. I pushed him away. “What’s with the scrub?”

He touched his chin. “A t school they call me a good ïà boy because I’m from the country. I grew the beard to make a point. I’d wear overalls, too, but as you know, my wardrobe is somewhat limited.”

“Speaking of which, new jeans?”

He stuck out his leg. “Thanks for noticing. Thrift store. New to me.”

“What’s the occasion? You do seem taller than the last time I saw you. Lots taller. Six inches taller.”

“Six inches in two weeks? I think that would be painful.” He still stared thoughtfully at his leg. I’d embarrassed him.

To change the subject, I asked, “What s in the box?” and realized too late that I didn’t want to know.

“I brought something for you,” he said. He showed me the clear plastic box with a homecoming corsage inside.

I peered at the chrysanthemum decorated in the school colors. It was no uglier than every other girls homecoming corsage, but it looked unspeakably ugly to me. Because when I put it on, it would mean that I was on a date with Walter Lloyd.

“I figured you wouldn’t mind,” he said, “since we’re already dating.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I heard you couldn’t go out with Barry Ekrivay because you and I are dating.”

“Drew just blurted that out to Barry so I wouldn’t have to go out with him.”

The big green eyes stared hard at me. The beard made Walter look older after only two weeks. But he also seemed wiser, like the green eyes were seeing something in me they hadn’t seen before.

Finally he said, “I’m glad Patton’s so worried about your virtue.”

“My virt—Walter, I challenge you to go two minutes without saying anything about sex. I’ll bet you can’t do it.” I looked at my watch.

“Two whole minutes? If I can do it, what’s the prize at the end? Can I choose?”

“That’s pretty good. Five seconds.” I looked back at the flower. “Walter, it’s so sweet that you brought me a corsage.” I meant to mean it. “But I can’t wear it while I’m directing. It’ll get in the way.”

“Good point. It might not survive with you waving your arms around. We don’t want you deflowering yourself all over the stadium.”

I slapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey!” he yelled. “One drum major per shoulder. You take the left, and Patton can have the right.”

“Walter,” I said in a low voice. “Please don’t call him that anymore. I’m trying to get along with him.”

“Yes, your highness.” He patted the box. “I’ll just hold this for you.”

“Good idea.”

We walked around to the concession stand, got Cokes, and pushed our way up the stands to the band section. The drums crowded around him at one point, cheering, “He’s back! Hey, bus boy!” Then A llison ran up squealing to hug him, but the majorettes distracted her. A football player’s pants were torn, and they were trying to figure out whether his nice naked fanny was showing or whether he wore flesh-colored pads.

Mostly Walter and I were alone for the third quarter off. I didn’t ask him why he hadn’t e-mailed me. I hoped he hadn’t really been that mad at me about our argument at the bus. I hoped he’d gotten busy with school and hadn’t had time to write. I hoped he was getting involved with activities there, new friends, girls. Of course, if that had happened, he wouldn’t have come home and half-asked me to homecoming without paying attention to my answer. I liked Walter so much—as a friend, hello!—and I hated the feeling that our friendship was about to fall backward off a cliff.

He told me he was amazed that the band, especially the drums, sounded so much better. I sketched for him why Drew and I had decided to get along. He didn’t seem interested. He told me stories about the weirdo art school kids who smoked pot and wore black.

Drew stood near the aisle with his brothers. He was a little taller than either of them. They laughed with him and told him he’d done a great job. He kept glancing past them to me like he wanted to introduce me to A nthony and reintroduce me to Christopher, who probably never noticed me when I was a freshman and he was drum major.

I didn’t know how to handle this. I couldn’t tell Walter I wanted to leave him to meet Drew Morrow’s brothers. Walter was only home for the weekend. Drew could have introduced me to his brothers at any time in the past month and a half that we’d been working together. It kind of irked me that Drew had suddenly decided I was worth knowing.

“Virginia,” Drew called sharply.

I looked up. It was fourth quarter. Behind me, the band was back in place. Depending on whether the team scored, we might have to play the fight song at any second. I should have been watching the game, not chatting with Walter.

I was such a slacker drum major! I was glad I had Drew there to be alert for me. When he didn’t have a fever.

“Virginia!” Drew stood in front of me, jaw clenched. He held out a hand to me.

“Cutting in?” Walter asked.

“Walter—,” Drew started.

“Nnnn,” I said, waving my hand between them. One could learn much from Mr. Rush. If one could stop oneself from saying “shit.” I stood and let Drew pull me toward the aisle, away from Walter.

We faced the field so Drew could watch the game. Or so Walter couldn’t see what we said. Drew put his arm around my waist so the band could see we were friends. Or so Walter would think we were more.

Drew said, “Walter has to go.”

“But it’s homecoming. A nd he’s home.”

“Virginia. Nobody in band gets to sit with their date during fourth quarter. That’s why we get third quarter off.”

“He’s not my—” I stopped. I guessed Walter was my date. I wasn’t sure. Technically, there had been no receipt of corsage.

I glanced behind me at Cacey up in the stands. Or the other one, whichever. She stared me down, trying to freeze me with her super-villain ice-vision.

She overflowed with corsage. This sucker was a huge chrysanthemum with all the bells and whistles—ribbons, golden plastic footballs, pipe cleaners shaped into the school letters.

I turned back to Drew. “Walter hasn’t been gone that long. He’s really still part of the band.”

“Then he should be in his section, with the drums.”

“He can’t do that. He’s not in band anymore.”

“Then send him out. Don’t try to argue logic backward and forward with me, Virginia. I just took the SA T.”

He had me; A nd Td had enough. “What do you care if he sits down here with me?”

“You know you wouldn’t let Cacey sit down here with me.”

“Of course I would. Let’s call her down. Walter and I would enjoy the pleasure of her company.”

Drew slipped his hand to my hip and bent his head closer to mine. “Look, Virginia. I’m discussing this with you calmly. I’m not stepping on your toes. I’m doing what I agreed to do in the meeting this afternoon with Mr. Rush. But in a minute, I’ll start yelling.”

“A ll right!” I yelled. A s I approached Walter, he stood. “Patton wants me out?”

I stopped myself from asking him again not to call Drew that. I was again beginning to think it fit. “Sorry,” I said.

“You don’t have to obey him, you know. You’re drum major too.”

“I told you. I’m trying to get along with him.”

“I know you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head and moved toward the student section across the aisle from the band. “I’ll see you after.”

I couldn’t wait.