The Cow Ate My Homework

13. The Sing-Off Resolution

A resolution, already? Then what are the rest of these pages for, you ask? (Even while you're sighing in relief that this poor dude's woes are about to wrap up neatly for him).

Let me tell you. Not that kind of resolution.

And when I say sing-off, I'm also not hinting that all these horrific problems are about to explode into a rousing musical number like a Broadway play, though I don't doubt that that could potentially be kind of cool, in a ridiculous way.

No, this is a different kind of sing-off entirely. One of an even more awkward variety.

After Mrs. M's science class, I keep my avoidance-game strong by heading straight for the bathroom in our four-minute break, careful to keep an eye out for Rodney to avoid further problems in that fun area of my school life, since I'm no closer to making the fake video than I was yesterday.

Four minutes fly past all too quickly, and Sarah and I have choir together next. In the choir room, our places aren't next to each other, so I'm hoping that Sarah won't try to force a conversation with me about the events of the morning.

But as we take our places, even though I'm not looking in her direction, I can tell she's staring at me and waiting expectantly for me to say something to her, offer some kind of explanation or defense, anything.

I look anywhere but at her, and I can see in my peripherals as she leans around the girl in the row between us and tries to get my attention. She hisses, "Caleb. Why did you bug out? Didn't you hear what Missy is saying you said?"

Oh I heard, alright. But I definitely can't admit this to Sarah. I give her my best thinking (aka stalling) face, knowing that our choir director is about to start.

The choir director is this incredibly old dude with a bitching voice that doesn't sound like it belongs to him at all. Even when he's only talking, you can't help but take notice. How he ended up merely teaching high school choir in Dermont, Iowa is beyond me. He should be singing or announcing in the limelight somewhere. But instead, he is standing up to address our class right now.

Even though it's obvious he's about to start, Sarah tries to get in super quickly to me, "She's telling everyone that you told whoever took that picture that you felt sorry for me and—"

The same instant she says it, our choir director begins, "Hello class. Let's..." And he trails off, realizing immediately that Sarah is still talking. He stares at her, and at me.

As I realize what's happening, I frantically shake my head at her. Shut up shut up shut up. But it's too late. He booms, "Sarah."

"Sorry! I'm done." She adds a signature Sarah apology smile (though, let's be honest, it's kind of a phoned-in version of her typical Sarah apology smile, what with the miserable morning she's had).

He ignores her apology and says, "You know my rules. Who were you talking to?" Even though it must have been obvious.

She tries, "Myself?"

"It looked like Caleb. Let's hear it, Sarah and Caleb."

No, no no no. I want to die. Like full on die for real.

I look at Sarah, and her cringe-face mimics my feelings. She mouths, "Sorry," to me and takes a deep breath.

Then, she dives in to what our choir director feels is a just consequence for talking during class time. To the tune of "Handel's Messiah," she sings, "We were talking, we were talking, we were talking about some crap..." She stumbles, corrects, "Er, it's not pleasant, a stupid rumor, but he wasn't there to refute it."