Being Henry David - By Cal Armistead Page 0,47

again. And again.

“Okay, it’s almost time for the next group to come in.” Ms. Coleman comes up and joins us on the stage. “That’s… really coming along.” Which is probably the nicest thing she can think of to say. “So let’s talk staging and some really basic special effects. What did you have in mind?”

I shrug. All my focus was just on the music, but clearly Hailey has been thinking about the rest. She and Ms. Coleman sit on the edge of the stage, and Ms. Coleman makes notes on a yellow legal pad.

“Sounds great, Sam,” I tell the drummer. “Ryan, well, dude, you’re getting there.”

Ryan’s face burns as he puts his bass in its case. “I’ll work on it at home. I’ll get it,” he says again.

“I know you will,” I say, hoping like hell.

“One more thing,” Ms. Coleman says. “What’s the name of your band?”

The four of us look at each other. We hadn’t given that detail any thought at all.

“Can we get back to you on that?” Hailey asks.

“All right, just let me know as soon as possible so we can put it in the program,” says Ms. Coleman. “Good work today. Be here at seven on Saturday, ready to play.”

“We will,” Hailey says. She turns to the rest of us. “Can you all practice at my house Wednesday afternoon? Like three o’clock?” Everybody says yes.

Her cheeks are pink and she looks excited, but there’s this wild thing lurking behind her green eyes and I know she’s also terrified that this year will be a replay of what happened last time. I want to tell her to relax, it’s going to be great, that she’s going to be amazing.

But I never get the chance, because just then the back door of the auditorium crashes shut like a gunshot. This time, thank God, I don’t collapse onto the floor. But then I see who came in, letting the door slam like he did it on purpose: Cameron. And he looks pissed.

“Uh-oh,” I hear Hailey breathe beside me.

“Cameron, you know the rules,” says Ms. Coleman. “You’re supposed to wait in the hall until someone from the crew comes to get you.”

Cameron’s eyes are locked onto Hailey’s, but he responds to Ms. Coleman. “I’m sorry. Guess I forgot.”

“That’s okay, I think these folks are done.” She shoots Hailey a questioning glance, and Hailey nods. “You can bring your group in now, Cameron.”

“Cameron has a group?” I whisper to Hailey.

“Yep,” she says, biting her lip. “It used to be my group.”

While Sam, Ryan, and I gather our gear together, Cameron pulls Hailey over to the side of the stage and I try to eavesdrop. They talk in hushed tones so it’s hard to hear, until the voices rise in argument. Coiling a cable, I draw closer to listen.

“Why the hell should you care? You have another lead singer now,” Hailey says.

“That’s only because you said you wouldn’t do it,” Cameron argues, yanking his cap off, as if his anger makes it too tight on his head. Their voices lower again and I can’t hear the rest.

“Hank.”

Someone calls my name from the auditorium doorway. Sophie the janitor stands in the hallway, waving me over with a blue rag in her hand. What does she want? Am I in trouble? Did she or the dread-lock janitor decide to turn me in? Pushing aside my nervousness, I hop off the stage to join her.

“Hey, Sophie,” I say, all casual. “What’s up?”

Sophie’s kind brown eyes scan my face like she’s trying to absorb that part of me that reminds her of her son.

“Did your friends ever find you?” she asks. Her gray-black hair is wild today, full of static electricity. Like if I touch it, I might get a shock.

“What friends?”

“They came into the school asking after some new kid, and from their description, I knew immediately it was you.” She wipes her hands on the blue cloth and stuffs it into the back pocket of her overalls.

Ice-cold fear trumps the nervousness in my gut.

“What did these people look like, Sophie?” I fight an urge to shake her.

“They were two young men, like you,” she says. “But of course, most people look young to me these days.” Her smile creates a web of wrinkles around her eyes, but my face is frozen and I can’t smile back.

Could she mean Magpie? Was it naïve of me to think Magpie would just give up and let me go? After all, we know too much about each other.