Drummer Girl by Karen Bass

body almost touching hers, his breath hot on her cheek.
    â€œThe point is...I’m watching you, Crowley. The whole band is. A lot of guys have been watching you this week, which just proves I’m right. You’ll be trouble if you drum for us.” He shifted so his lips were beside her ear. “Who dropped you at school this morning?”
    Sid got it. He was watching her very closely. But watching for what? She said, “My cousin.” She hated the way his nearness was starting to intimidate her.
    â€œNot your girlfriend? Too bad. I said it would be better for you if you were gay.”
    â€œWell I’m not. And I’m still a better drummer than Wes. Is it true he’s getting a shot?”
    Clem inclined his head.
    â€œWill I?”
    â€œNot if I have a say. And not if Wes works out.” He released her, stroking her thigh as she stepped past him. She shot him a dirty look. He grinned. “Want to hit me? Or do you want more?”
    What was his game? “The only thing I want from you is the chance to play drums.”
    Outside the counsellor’s office, Sid kept her mind from her run-in with Clem by considering how she could corner Taylor at his house. She was pretty sure he worked at the garage tonight so wouldn’t get home until nine o’clock. His mom didn’t like visitors dropping by after that because he needed homework time. She had tried sending some instant messages, regular email, posting on his Facebook. He didn’t respond to anything. Five minutes in his driveway was all she needed, just long enough to ask what was eating him. If Narain knew something, he wasn’t talking. Ask Tay, was all he ever said.
    Her fingers were tapping rapidly on the armrest when Mr. Brock opened the door and invited her in. Sid sprawled in her chair, then abruptly sat up and crossed her legs. Somehow sprawling didn’t suit her new look. Her foot began to twitch.
    Brock got comfortable and said nothing for a full two minutes. Sid could feel herself winding up, getting tighter. Twitchier.
    Finally, Brock said, “You’ve been dressing differently this week. More...”
    â€œFashionable?”
    Brock adjusted his glasses. “You don’t look very comfortable.”
    â€œI’m sitting in a shrink’s office.”
    â€œI’m a counsellor, not a shrink. So what brought on the change?”
    Sid looked away.
    â€œOkay. So let’s say it’s because of your run-in last week with Wes Remichuk. You’re trying to...what? Fit in?”
    â€œIs that a crime?”
    â€œNo, but you have to be true to yourself, Sidney. You look very nice but you also have to be comfortable. In your clothes, but more importantly, in your skin.” When Sid said nothing he continued, “I hear you had another clash with Wes.”
    Sid was tired of the combined lecture and inquisition. She leaned forward a bit. “A clash? Is that what you call it? He grabbed my ass so I spilled my lunch tray on him.” She sat back, expecting to be called on her language.
    Brock didn’t blink. “So Mr. Franklin tells me. Do you think you handled that in the best way?”
    â€œHave you ever had someone squeeze your ass?”
    One corner of his mouth raised. “Point taken. In case you’re wondering, Mr. Franklin did address the issue with Wes. I believe he received two noon-hour detentions.”
    Sid almost swore. That would explain why she hadn’t seen him in the cafeteria. Didn’t Franklin realize he had made things worse? Her face must have revealed some of her thoughts because Brock said, “Maybe I need to have a session with you and Wes together.”
    â€œNo.” Sid jumped up. “Look. I have everything under control.” Or she did, until Franklin interfered. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want anyone’s help.”
    â€œEveryone needs help once in a while.”
    â€œSure. And if I need