beneath the soil of all our breathy singing. Everyone twists to watch. He’s good. Really good. Buy it at the mall, listen to it in your car, good. And much, much better than molar-mouthed, oversinging with her feet planted, doing her best Valkyrie, Mrs. Sergeant. Red splotches appear on her jowls and everyone studies their music folders. Mrs. Beazley purses her lips, pushing back her pink glasses. Jake clears his throat and Laura takes the moment to make a huge “o” face. I snort.
“You think this is funny, Katie Hollis?” Mrs. Sergeant spins to me, seething.
I freeze. “No—”
“You think someone trying to steal the show from forty-eight of his classmates is worth laughing about?” Her shoulder pads lift above her earlobes.
“No, I—”
“You what? Or were you just trying to get his attention?”
I sit at the edge of my chair. “No, I just…remembered something…funny someone said at lunch.”
“What?” She raps her music stand. “What was the funny thing someone said? You think it’s worth being so rude about, you should let us all enjoy it.”
“Nothing.” I shrink. “I’m sorry.”
“It takes years of work, hard work, school and practice, years of practice, before you can just sing wherever and whenever you like.” She narrows her eyes. “I want you and Mr. Sharpe here to take your huge egos and put together a presentable duet with a descant of your own devising. The last section of the song, through ‘Marconi plays the mamba,’ to be performed for all of us, let’s see…a week from this Friday seems fair. That should be something two freshmen can handle if they think they’re prodigies.” A sneer forms her last s. “And Katie?”
“Yes?”
“Enough flirting.” A blast of heat explodes in my face. With a satisfied smile, Mrs. Sergeant nods and Mrs. Beazley begins again.
Benjy bounces a Hacky Sack from one hand to the other as he sits slouched against the locker next to Laura’s. “It’s ’cause Sergeant’s not doin’it.”
“Shut up,” Laura and I chime. “Neither are you,” she adds, to clarify her sexual status for anyone in earshot as she wriggles the Daisy Miller CliffsNotes out from a pile of textbooks wedged into her locker. He tugs at her bare calf and she collapses into his lap shrieking, “Ben-jy!”
“It’s not like we can just use the sheet music,” I say, starting to panic, “We have to devise a descant. I have no idea how to do that!”
Craig, slumped with me against the lockers across from them, doesn’t even look up from the car magazine he’s leafing through with his free hand. I pull mine from the other to ruffle his hair. “Hey, I need advice.”
“What? You have to do a song.” Craig flattens his bangs back the way he likes them.
“A duet,” Laura corrects as Benjy’s hand tries to push under her sweatshirt. Giggling, she grabs it through the fabric, holding it at bay below her under-wire. Craig drops his arm around me in an attempt to keep up, and I pull my legs in so I can curl against his sturdy frame. The tallest frame in the class. The frame that for the last four months I am proud to call my boyfriend’s. The frame that’s had a secret crush since the Middle School Graduation Dance when he was too shy to talk to me. The frame that thinks of me as KatieHollis, one word. A cute frame, a nice frame, an honest frame. The frame of someone who would never, ever, in a billion years, say they don’t want to go out with anyone and then, less than a week later, start going out with Annika Kaiser.
“You have a good voice, Katie.” Craig squeezes my shoulder as he flips another glossy page. “Just practice and do it. It won’t be such a big deal, you’ll see.”
Exasperated, I give him his arm back and stand up. “Thanks.”
“Katie, I’m sorry,” Laura responds, swatting Benjy away and standing in turn.
“It’s just…” I scan her eyes. Now that I’ve publicly clarified my lack of enthusiasm for this
“You think this is funny, Katie Hollis?” Mrs. Sergeant spins to me, seething.
I freeze. “No—”
“You think someone trying to steal the show from forty-eight of his classmates is worth laughing about?” Her shoulder pads lift above her earlobes.
“No, I—”
“You what? Or were you just trying to get his attention?”
I sit at the edge of my chair. “No, I just…remembered something…funny someone said at lunch.”
“What?” She raps her music stand. “What was the funny thing someone said? You think it’s worth being so rude about, you should let us all enjoy it.”
“Nothing.” I shrink. “I’m sorry.”
“It takes years of work, hard work, school and practice, years of practice, before you can just sing wherever and whenever you like.” She narrows her eyes. “I want you and Mr. Sharpe here to take your huge egos and put together a presentable duet with a descant of your own devising. The last section of the song, through ‘Marconi plays the mamba,’ to be performed for all of us, let’s see…a week from this Friday seems fair. That should be something two freshmen can handle if they think they’re prodigies.” A sneer forms her last s. “And Katie?”
“Yes?”
“Enough flirting.” A blast of heat explodes in my face. With a satisfied smile, Mrs. Sergeant nods and Mrs. Beazley begins again.
Benjy bounces a Hacky Sack from one hand to the other as he sits slouched against the locker next to Laura’s. “It’s ’cause Sergeant’s not doin’it.”
“Shut up,” Laura and I chime. “Neither are you,” she adds, to clarify her sexual status for anyone in earshot as she wriggles the Daisy Miller CliffsNotes out from a pile of textbooks wedged into her locker. He tugs at her bare calf and she collapses into his lap shrieking, “Ben-jy!”
“It’s not like we can just use the sheet music,” I say, starting to panic, “We have to devise a descant. I have no idea how to do that!”
Craig, slumped with me against the lockers across from them, doesn’t even look up from the car magazine he’s leafing through with his free hand. I pull mine from the other to ruffle his hair. “Hey, I need advice.”
“What? You have to do a song.” Craig flattens his bangs back the way he likes them.
“A duet,” Laura corrects as Benjy’s hand tries to push under her sweatshirt. Giggling, she grabs it through the fabric, holding it at bay below her under-wire. Craig drops his arm around me in an attempt to keep up, and I pull my legs in so I can curl against his sturdy frame. The tallest frame in the class. The frame that for the last four months I am proud to call my boyfriend’s. The frame that’s had a secret crush since the Middle School Graduation Dance when he was too shy to talk to me. The frame that thinks of me as KatieHollis, one word. A cute frame, a nice frame, an honest frame. The frame of someone who would never, ever, in a billion years, say they don’t want to go out with anyone and then, less than a week later, start going out with Annika Kaiser.
“You have a good voice, Katie.” Craig squeezes my shoulder as he flips another glossy page. “Just practice and do it. It won’t be such a big deal, you’ll see.”
Exasperated, I give him his arm back and stand up. “Thanks.”
“Katie, I’m sorry,” Laura responds, swatting Benjy away and standing in turn.
“It’s just…” I scan her eyes. Now that I’ve publicly clarified my lack of enthusiasm for this
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