“Assumptive,” I said.
“Optimistic,” she countered. “But now it doesn’t even matter because twenty stinky boys are currently doing push-ups in there.”
“Isn’t there a classroom we could use? Push some desks aside?” Look at me with all the ideas.
“That’s what I was in the process of finding out. Worse case, maybe outside?”
“It’s raining,” I said, afraid to push her any further into her frustration.
“Of course it is.” She tossed out her arms. “And theater club is currently using the performing arts center and I can’t imagine they want a drum solo in the middle ofGuys and Dolls. Oh shoot! That reminds me, I need to see what band kids want to be in the pit for that show.” She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “It’s almost like one person shouldn’t be doing the jobs of ten different people.” She mumbled the last bit to herself.
A very bad, no-good idea was clawing its way out of my brain. I kept my mouth clamped tight.
“Cath has to be at work tonight by seven.” She waved the thought away like it wasn’t important right now. “One thing at a time, Mitchell.”
This was it. This was the perfect time to back out of here and dust my hands of this whole thing. Except...what was this nagging feeling that was making it hard to breathe? Was this...guilt?
Ugh.
“And if that wasn’t bad enough, her crash cymbal bit the bullet.” Mari went on, a screw being twisted tighter in my chest, thinking of that decrepit old kit. “I mean, it’s still usable, technically, but a giant chunk broke off. I swear I saw Miles and Cassius messing with it after performance band practice today. We’re getting ready for the Fall Festival. You should come, by the way. They’re going to do a whole thing. Oh, I already told you about that.” Shewaved her hand again, wiping away another tangent from the air in front of her. I was genuinely scared to know what the inside of her mind looked like right now. “So now, I have to search through the instrument closet to see if, by some miracle, there is an extra cymbal in there.”
Yes, I should definitely leave. I would only make things worse. I wasn’t exactly a soothing balm to her nerves. There was nothing I could do here.
“Well, it seems like you have your hands full. I should probably get out of?—”
Just then, Cath walked up. Outside of her marching band uniform and jazz night attire, she looked like any average teenager, or what I assumed teenagers looked like. I never hung out with them. She was in a giant hoodie, black leggings, and Converse shoes and gripped the straps of her backpack like they were the only thing holding her to the earth.
“Hey,” I said with a wave.
She made a sound of greeting. Or was she clearing her throat? Jury was still out. “Hey, Miss Mitchell,” she said to Mari.
“Oh hey, Cath. We’re working on getting a room now. Don’t worry.”
“It’s fine.” Her cheeks burned as she glared pointedly at the floor.
“No. It’s not fine. I booked the room. This is why we have a system in place.” Mari’s head shot to the left. “There he is!” She scurried after the retreating form of a man in an ugly brown suit.
Déjà vu.
Was my life now chasing after Mari as she chased after slightly scared-looking middle-aged men?
“Principal Pindich,” she called. I swore his shoulders went to his ears before he stopped and turned around, a smarmy smile in place.
“Hello, Mary.”
“Mariam,” she corrected. “The rehearsal room was booked on the shared calendar. The JV team needs to move elsewhere.”
“My hands are tied,” he said.
Mari spoke again. “That’s not good enough. Why even have a shared calendar if we aren’t going to follow it?”
He sighed and tilted his head, looking downright condescending. “All right. Calm down,” he said to Mari, whose ears were bright red and nostrils were flaring. I snorted softly. This was calm. Wait until she really got angry. But then he looked at me for the first time. “Women, right?”
The man was too stunned to speak.Was he looking toward me for commiseration? We were not on the same team, sir. We weren’t even living in the same world.
“And you are?” he asked me. Thankfully, he didn’t extend a hand because I would not be shaking it. He glanced at the visitor badge stuck to my tee. “Wait a minute. That hair, those gangly limbs.Leonard. You’re the big famous drummer. Couldn’t stay away from home sweet home.”
“Something like that,” I mumbled.
