Major Crush

Chapter 8

Except Drew, who stared at me.

Mr. Rush wiped his eyes. Which seemed kind of pointless, since he was standing in a downpour. "Oh, Sauter," he said. "You're not a troubled teen. I know 'em when I see 'em. I was a troubled teen myself not too long ago." He turned and walked toward the other buses again. Then he tossed over his shoulder at me, "I spent some time in juvy."

Allison and I were sitting in my car the next morning, watching the first bus park outside the band room for the trip to the contest in Montgomery, when my cell phone rang.

We looked at each other.

"Drew?" she asked.

I handed her my phone and the keys and got out of the car. When Luther came over to her house the night before, she told him that Drew had spilled the beans to the twins. Luther said it didn't sound like Drew, and he planned to call Drew and ask. That's probably why Drew was calling me now.

But if Drew wanted to be forgiven, I still didn't want to hear it. And even if I eventually forgave him, I wasn't sure I could ever take him up on his offer to make out on a hay baler.

I chose a sunny spot on the wall near the band room door and watched the second bus pull up. After Luther had left the night before, Allison had come over to my house. We had stayed up late, blotting our soaked boots and band outfits and very carefully blowing them with hairdryers so they wouldn't shrink. My jacket and skirt and knee-high boots were warm and dry. And the storm front had blown through, taking the cold rain with it, and leaving behind the warm morning sun.

But I couldn't shake the chill.

The saddest thing was that despite everything, I wanted to sit in this sunny spot and watch Drew drive up in the farm truck and climb onto the senior bus. Just because.

It was actually kind of strange that he wasn't there yet. He usually was way early because he was so responsible.

Except with other people's secrets.

Allison got out of my car and walked across the grass toward me with her bag slung over her shoulder, still talking on the phone. "Here she is," she said. She held the phone out to me.

I shook my head.

"Walter," she said. "I told him about the rumors."

I grabbed the phone. "Thank you so much for last night," I exclaimed. "Football is so hard!"

He laughed. "You did a good job. You would be good no matter what. And at half-time the band sounded even better than at homecoming, technically. Did you work on that weird mellophone part in the middle song?"

I knew Walter. I knew there was a but coming. "But?"

"But at homecoming, the show had more ... I don't know."

"Life."

"Yes! A nd I think it's Drew. I think the band sounds best when you and Drew direct together."

The third bus parked in front of the band room.

"I didn't make him quit," I reminded Walter. "And I'm not inclined to beg him to come back, after what he did to me. To my family." I did my best Tony Soprano. "Blood is thicker than water. The family sticks together. Capisce?"

"I'm glad you still have enough of a sense of humor to do horrible imitations."

"Hey!"

"But listen, Don Corleone. I'm not convinced Drew told the Evil Twins. It doesn't sound like something he'd do."