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He’d won.
I was done.
Shaking my head wearily at Rush, I asked, “How? I smashed my fucking trumpet to pieces. And I don’t have the money to replace—”
He lifted a finger, cutting me off. “So, about that,” he started. With a grin, he scratched his chin as if he had big news to announce and needed a moment to relish the anticipation of telling me before he added, “I asked around. They didn’t have an extra trumpet on hand in the music room for you to borrow, but I was able to find one of…these.”
I frowned when he leaned down and picked up a black instrument case—a huge black instrument case—I hadn’t realized he’d brought into the room with him until now.
When he hefted it onto my desk and flipped the latches open, I moved forward to see what he revealed.
And then…
“A tuba?” I said dryly, slicing him an incredulous glance. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Oh, come on,” Rush cried, slapping me on the arm with the back of his hand. “Tubas are badass.”
Since when?
“Then why aren’t you playing one?” I demanded stonily.
“Because I’m a drummer, ya idiot. I play drums. I know nothing about valves and mouthpieces and all that shit. You’re the brass man. And tubas are by far the most awesome brass instrument ever.”
“Says who?”
“Says me! Now, shut up. You’re going to play the fucking tuba.”
“You know tubas and trumpets are completely different, right? I’d still basically have to relearn how to play everything.”
“Then relearn how to play everything. Just don’t give up. Don’t let that asshat Reuben keep you down. He already took Avery. Don’t let him take this too.”
I glanced at him sharply for even mentioning that name to me.
“I’m serious,” he said softly, his eyes filling with apology for bringing her up. “If you don’t even try the tuba, if you drop out of band completely, he gets exactly what he wanted all along. You know why he fucked you over so bad, don’t you?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t have a fucking clue. Because he’s Satan?”
“Dude.” Rush rolled his eyes. “It’s as plain as day why. He was jealous as shit of you. You were better than him. You were the best trumpet player in the entire band, and he knew it. But he couldn’t handle it, so he did whatever he could to bring you down so he could raise himself up.”
I shook my head. “No. That’s stupid.” Except deep inside, I knew he was right.
“I didn’t say it was smart. I’m saying it’s true. He was pissed at being runner up, so he got his revenge on you for being better than him.”
“No,” I started again.
But Rush looked me right in the eye. “Yes.”
I couldn’t accept that aloud, though. Just thinking about it made me feel sick to my stomach. So I continued to deny it.
Being good at something wasn’t supposed to land me in this kind of heartache. Reuben had ruined so much inside me. He’d taken my love for music and band and my adoration for a pretty girl, and he’d distorted it all into something ugly and despicable. If I had looked in the mirror at that moment, I wasn’t sure I would’ve even recognized myself.
He had changed me that much.
It wasn’t right. I couldn’t let him get away with doing that to me.
“Rise back up,” Rush encouraged, lifting the tuba from the case. “Be better at this than you ever were on the trumpet.”
I looked uneasily at the great, hulking instrument he held out toward me and wrinkled my nose in distaste. Seriously, why did it have to be a tuba? Hauling this monstrosity around everywhere would be a pain in the ass. Probably even literally.
