Standing By

Lessons

(Kevin)

"What do they got up there?" I asked, trying to crane my neck around Scott. I swear, he stands in front of you and you're never going to see anything. All I wanted was to see what kind of sandwiches they had, and of course, I wound up directly behind the tallest one of us. And no matter which way I moved to see around him, Mr. Happy Legs bounced directly into my line of vision. I put a hand on his shoulder to hold him still.

"Wha-at?" he complained.

"Quit moving for five seconds. What do they got up there?"

"Sandwiches and chips and fruit!" he snapped.

"They got things labeled up here," Kirstie said from in front of him. "Turkey, ham, roast beef. What?"

"I didn't say anything," I said, grabbing a bunch of napkins and a plate. I could pretty much guarantee somebody would drop something. Probably me. I helped myself to a nice fat turkey sandwich and grabbed some extra tomatoes and lettuce and cucumbers. I selected a bag of Fritos and an apple—was that sweet tea? Oh my gosh, really? I about knocked Kirstie over trying to get to that tea. Yep, sure was! Squealing excitedly, I grabbed a bottle—then two. Heck, never know when I'm going to run into it again in New York! My little Southern heart was so happy. Juggling my plate and my ample drinks, I called out to the others. "Usual spots, guys, we can go over O-ohhh!" I ended up shrieking as one bottle rolled off my plate, and in my haste to catch it, I dropped the other bottle. Both bottles exploded at my feet, spraying both me and Adam. "Oh, shoot," I grumbled, barely saving my sandwich from imminent doom. Scott and Mitch and Kirstie cackled at me; Avi had that little grin he so often had. Chance, Tim, and Rob, at least, seemed to be laughing at Adam instead of me.

"Thank you, Kevin," Adam said loudly, trying to mop at his face.

"I am so sorry!" I apologized profusely, handing him a fistful of napkins (see, I told you I'd be one of the ones to make a mess).

"Mmhmm," he murmured, starting to dab at his shirt. I leaned over to try to clean up my mess and promptly sliced my finger open on one of the glass pieces.

"Ouch!" I grunted, instinctively sticking my index finger in my mouth.

"Just—let us," a janitor with a broom and a mop told me.

"I weawy showwy," I apologized around my finger. Adam grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me away.

"Wet me get a bubber," I mumbled, scooting over to grab another bottle. I wrapped half dozen napkins around my finger. At least everyone was moving out of my way now. I thought I heard Selena Gomez call me butterfingers. Sadly, that was not untrue. I got me just one bottle of sweet tea this time and made my way back to the others. "OK, O Come All Ye Faithful," I announced.

Mitch took one look at me and squealed.

"What?" When he didn't say anything, I started performing sandwich surgery, still talking. "So we've made a few changes. Obviously, Austin's part is gone."

Rob whimpered. "Completely gone?"

"For now. If necessary, we can revert to the original version." I rearranged my haphazard lettuce and removed the turkey, pushing it to the edge of my plate. "Tim, we bumped you down half octave."

"I noticed that," he remarked, a hand in his chip bag. "You could have asked."

I looked at him mildly. "Adam said you could do it."

"Of course I can. It just would have been nice to have been asked my opinion," he grumbled.

"Tim, we're not going to ask your opinion about every key change," Adam told him dryly. Tim just rolled his eyes and buried his nose in the music.