10. Leo
Most of the following Monday was spent staring at the clock. Even the garden was off-limits to my anxious pacing. I was too twitchy and wound up and didn’t want to bring that bad energy around my plants.
By three o’clock, my pit sweat made it seem like I’d been practicing for hours and not sitting still, paralyzed by decision fatigue.
The memory of Mari’s impassioned defense of music finally had me move off my bed. She understood the power of passion and worked so hard for her students that I would have to be a monster not to help, now that the truth was out.
I put everything on the proverbial table—the reason for my exit from The Burnouts—yet she was still convinced I was the person to help Cath get into the school of her dreams. I wiped my palms on my jeans and stood. Just go. Meet Cath and come back to the safety of the house.
Downstairs, Janice was shrugging into a light coat and reaching for the keys.
Worry spread through me, tingling the tips of my fingers.
“Where are you going?” I asked, my Adam’s apple tight in my throat.
Janice pressed a hand to her chest. “For crying out loud, you startled me.” She looked me up and down. “Where are you going?”
I glanced at my phone. I needed to leave now. “I’m supposed to go to the school to meet Cath. I didn’t know you needed the car.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been here all day.” She sighed and looked at her watch. “I have plans in town. Can I drop you off?”
As if it wasn’t bad enough to be going back to school, now I had to have my mom take me.
“Is it on the way?” I asked as I looked at my phone again. “I have to be there in fifteen.”
“You won’t be late.” She still hadn’t mentioned where she was going, but my anxiety was ratcheted even higher with this unexpected hiccup. I wasn’t even positive I was going until I came down to get the car keys, but now this felt like a sign.
“No, no. Don’t make that face,” Janice said, reading my thoughts as only a mom could. “We have plenty of time. But let’s leave right now. The roads are slick.”
In the car, Janice put a hand on my jumping leg. “I think it’s very lovely that you’re agreeing to help Cath.” She maneuvered carefully on the short drive into town, but I was so nervous, I couldn’t unclench myself enough to respond.
Every time the sick crept up my throat, I replayed Mari’s impassioned speech. She wouldn’t have asked me if she didn’t think I could help. This wasn’t some elaborate ruse to lure me back to high school just to mock me. As rain beat down on the windshield, I was beat down with a hundred memories I’d repressed or replaced with The Burnouts’ drum solos and screaming fans.
But now, even those memories of playing on stage were tainted. Was nothing in my past safe to think about? I didn’t want to be back here, where all of my biggest insecurities made me feel like a loser. This place where I was bullied and laughed at. The place that had felt like a prison to my teenage self. If my mom hadn’t been a teacher here, if Vander hadn’t been there to have my back, it would have been so much worse. Why had I agreed to do this?
Mari. Well, Cath. Of course. But the thought of letting Mari down hurt worse than the pain of harmless memories. At least those were in the past.
Janice turned into the school zone way too soon. I wasn’t sure that my knees would hold me up. This was ridiculous. I was a grown man who, by all outward appearances, was a huge success. I didn’t need to hold on to the past like this. I just wished my body didn’t act like it was being chased by cheetahs. Janice pulled up front to drop me off, and I stared at the entrance of the building. Wasn’t it supposed to seem smaller now?
I hadn’t had anxiety like this since backstage before a show. This clammy, fuzzy-headed terror made every obstacle seem insurmountable. This was why leaving the house was extremely overrated.
“Come on, now.” Janice rubbed a circle on my back. Absolutely absurd that the small gesture had my throat tightening. “I haven’t seen you like this in a while. Are you okay?”
I glanced over at her, and worry creased her brow. I could almost see her berating herself for encouraging me to get out of the house. If nothing else, I needed to be strong for her. She’d been my rock year after year; I wouldn’t let my issues become hers. I forced a smile. “I’m okay. Just weird being back here.”
Janice squeezed my shoulder. “Focus on all that you’ve accomplished. It’s just a building. You’re in control. And you’re doing a really great thing.”
I nodded, and she hugged me with one arm.
“Call me when you want me to come get you, okay?”
Hearing her say that in this place was like being thrown back in time. I was sixteen and being driven to school after sleeping in because my anxiety was so bad I couldn’t get out of bed.
I nodded and jumped out of the car with a final goodbye, sprinting to the doors to avoid being soaked. Once inside, the sinking dread of these familiar hallways made my feet heavy as I made my way to the front office.
Once I was checked in, I was about to be escorted to the band room when Mari came wogging past—her words, not mine. I would never say wogging in real life.
“Mari,” I called after her. She came to a halt, and I expected her shoes to make that squeal of tires braking too fast. To the office aide, I said, “Can she take me from here?”
“Of course, dear,” she said with a smile.
“Where’s the fire?” I asked Mari. Some of the tension I’d been feeling relaxed away at the sight of her.
“Leo? Oh. Hey.” She glanced at her watch. “Lord, is it time already?”
“Yep.” Wasn’t I a chump for watching the clock the entire day when she barely remembered that we were supposed to meet?
This Mari was a far cry from the breezy, relaxed version I’d glimpsed after a boatload of appetizers and a glass of red wine. Her hair was tossed up in a knot on her head with a pencil holding it in place. Her eyes wouldn’t sit still as they flicked through the mass of students exiting for the day. She shrugged out of a cardigan worn over a sleeveless silk top, fanning herself.
“Everything okay?” I asked, hands deep in the pockets of my jeans. My skin itched all over. Even though she was just a couple of years older than me, I had the same uncomfortable feeling I would have had being stopped by a teacher fifteen years ago.
Several passing students watched our exchange, and I pretended not to notice their curious glances.
“No. I’ve been running around like a greased-up pig all day. And now the flipping cherry on top is that Principal Pi—” She paused, remembering her surroundings. “Mr. Pindich told the football team they could use the rehearsal space to set up their free weights.”
“Can they do that?”
“They do sometimes. And normally, it’s—well, it’s not great because they leave puddles of sweat and little cups of water everywhere, and it’ll smell like feet for the next couple of days, but at least it doesn’t impact our rehearsals. But I specifically booked the room for you and Cath to practice.”
“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 of Guys 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.” She waved 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.
I wished I had a better comeback than that. For the next week, this would be a future shower conversation where I’d spit the perfectly caustic response to my body wash. He’d managed to cut me down with one barb. Too bad he couldn’t use that precision on his overgrown pine out front.
Dammit, that would have been a good comeback.
“Well, let’s hope you picked the right person, Mary,” Pin Dick said with a final disapproving scowl at me. “Sorry about the practice. Maybe next time.” He turned to Cath. “Michael, hope you understand.”
Cath stared at the floor just in front of her feet and nodded once.
Pin Dick left without another word.
“What a dick,” I said. I didn’t even bother trying to be quiet because he scuttled out of there as fast as he could anyway.
“Hence the name,” Mari mumbled, but her worried gaze was set on Cath. I was so taken aback by the outdated sexism and passive-aggressive bullying that it took me long after he walked away to process what he’d said.
“What’s that guy’s deal with names?” I asked, turning back to them both.
The ladies exchanged a glance.
“He never remembers my name. Or at least, he pretends not to. I’ve worked here for years now, but I guess he can’t be bothered. Shows just how important he is,” Mari said, oddly defeated. I’d expect her to She-Hulk rage out and chase after him, leaving potholes where she stepped. I was looking forward to it, honestly.
This morose acceptance was much worse.
“He’s deadnaming me,” Cath said stonily.
My mouth snapped shut. I already decided I hated the guy since my mother complained about his tree, and then even more the first night Mari talked about him. Witnessing him firsthand was rage-inducing. This was more than a small-dick, insecure man pulling his power around. This was absolute bullshit.
I had a taste of the anger that motivated Mari. The red-out of my brain, short-circuited decision-making.
I felt protective of Cath and Mari and the whole systematic injustice of assholes like this who crushed programs they never deemed worthy. I might not have much to offer, but I had some experience.
That settled it. I was a lot of things, probably most of them weren’t great. But I had been bullied my whole childhood, and I couldn’t stand a bully. Mari and Cath seemed to inherently understand that giving him a reaction was exactly what he fed off. So then be it. I had an idea, and he could fuck all the way off.
I didn’t want to be here, and I sure as hell did not want to have to see that guy again. He reminded me of every mediocre loser who wielded whatever power they had on those they knew were powerless against them. By using the name that Cath was born with and had not chosen, he was purposely hurting her. I would help Cath because I had the ability to, but then I would go back to my life of solitude.
“There is one other option.” I heaved a sigh. And I was probably going to regret it.