Damn right I was. Ben with the perfect singing voice and bright green eyes. Who wouldn’t have been crazy about Ben? Too bad Ben was straighter than a curtain rod. “So?”
“So, even though you told me all about Ben, you didn’t tell everyone.”
Of course I hadn’t. Barely anyone even knew I was gay back then. I hadn’t come out properly until tenth grade. “Yeah, I wasn’t out yet. I get your point, but it’s different. I could never have had Ben anyway. If he’d told me he liked me, I would’ve done anything.”
“Well, maybe you were ready a little earlier than some. You also had a supportive family, and great friends. Not everyone has it so easy.”
I was unmoved. “If Will liked me the way I liked Ben, he’d at least speak to me in public.”
“Is music class not public?”
“Sure, but he ignored me for weeks up until just recently. In the halls, and in the cafeteria, and in English …”
“But not music class anymore. Seems like progress to me. It’s small, but it’s something. Sounds like he’s trying.”
Eurgh. I hated it when adults made sense.
“Try not to take it personally if he’s not going as quickly as you’d like him to,” Aunt Linda said. “If friendship is all he’s able to give you right now, don’t knock it because you were hoping for more. Maybe, if you’re lucky, he’ll be ready for something else one day. If not, at worst you’ll have yourself a good friend in a new school.”
I thought about it, trying to find the holes in her argument. It didn’t appeal to me, the idea that Will might only ever be a friend. Was that because deep down, I was hoping he’d magically turn back into the old Will overnight?
Aunt Linda might be right. Maybe I’d been unfair to pin that kind of expectation on Will. Now that I thought about it, he had been trying. Sure, he hadn’t done the thing I wanted him to do most of all—declare his love for me publicly on the bleachers in a grand musical number—but that didn’t mean I had to knock the baby steps, did it?
I bit my lip, then sent him a text back.
You’re definitely not dumb. We can sit together if you want. I’ll even give you a distraction hall pass or two, if you’re lucky.
Aunt Linda gave me a tired, but genuine, smile.
11
“Stop, stop, stop. That sucked.”
I stopped the recording dutifully, but shook my head. “That was fine. What’s the problem?”
Juliette lowered her clarinet and stared at me like she was doubting the legitimacy of my ears. “Um. All of it. All of it was the problem. One more time, okay?”
We were holed up in her bedroom, taking advantage of the natural late-October light to film her audition for the Conservatory. A task that was taking longer than I’d expected. Like, a lot longer. She’d played the piece so many times I knew it inside and out. I’d had to stop myself from humming along the last five or so takes.
“Sure, but seriously, we need to wrap it up soon. I have to be at the Lost and Found by five-thirty for sound check.” It was my first gig with Absolution of the Chained that night. Sure, it was in a bar that was usually emptier than a college student’s refrigerator, but it was still important. I didn’t want to mess anything up, and that included being late. Also, I had good reason to expect there would be at least a handful of people in our audience that night. Juliette and the girls had a few connections around the school they were dragging along, and Will had even promised to bring the basketball guys. Sure, he’d said it was so Darnell could get a shot to speak to Niamh alone, but I appreciated it either way.
“Okay, one more time,” Juliette said, waving to get my attention. “Count me in.”
I did, and she took it again from the top. Her fingers flew over the holes and keys, her gaze distant as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. She was somewhere else. Which was promising. The last few takes, she’d been stealing glances at the camera, until I’d promised her it wasn’t likely to explode without notice.
I sang along in my head until I realized I didn’t know this part. She’d gotten further than before. I held my breath, willing her to keep it going, to hold on to the streak. She made it another second. Then another. Surely the piece was almost over now. Surely.
Then she played a final note, and breathed out. I waited for her confirmation, hopeful.
“Switch it off, Ollie.” She laughed. “Okay. That was okay. I got through it all, anyway.”
“We are victorious,” I said, switching off the camera with a flourish. “That is a wrap. Well done, Valentina Lisitsa.” Valentina Lisitsa was a piano player Juliette showed me on YouTube a couple weeks earlier, whose fingers moved so fast it looked like her videos were sped up to double time. Juliette had brought the channel up somewhat defiantly, telling me it was proof that someone from North Carolina could become a famous musician. Let the record show that I’d actually never implied otherwise. Something told me a little voice inside Juliette’s head might have once or twice, though.
“Valentina’s a pianist.”
“All right, be pedantic then. Well done, Valentina Lisitsa’s clarinet equivalent. You’re halfway to college!”
Juliette came over to grab the camera. “Not so fast. I’ll have to make sure it’s okay before I send it off. I need it to be perfect.”
“Have a look at it tomorrow. If you don’t like it, shoot me a text and I’ll come for round two. I don’t have plans.”
Juliette climbed onto the bed beside me, standing up on the unmade covers. “You’re the best, Ollie-oop. Thank you, so much.”
I got up and jumped on the spot, grabbing her hands. “You’ve got this. You did awesome.”
She jumped a few times, too, bursting into nervous laughter. “I hope so. God, I hope so.” She let out a small scream, then threw her hands up. “Now let’s get you to sound check, Bon Jovi.”
“Bon Jovi, really?”
“Closer comparison than Valentina. Come on, Ollie-oop, go, go, go. The night’s all about you, starting from … right … now.”
I took a dramatic leap from her bed and bowed to her as I landed. “I’m happy to share the spotlight. But only with you.”
Juliette applauded me, then grabbed my arm to swing it back and forth. “Will’s coming tonight. Are you nervous?”
“About Will coming?” I asked. “No.”
Yes.
“He’s been talking about you at lunch a lot.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yeah. Just casual stuff. Like, ‘Oh, Ollie thinks this,’ or, ‘Ollie told me a story about that once.’ Well, he was, anyway. Then Matt asked when the wedding date is. He hasn’t really brought you up since, now that I think about it.”
The unhappy pang that accompanied the gay joke was, for once, outshined by a warmer feeling. Will was talking about me. When I wasn’t even there.
We’d been sitting next to each other in Music Appreciation since his message two weeks before. Five lessons in total. It was easy to get along with him in class, but a part of me figured that was because his friends weren’t around. I’d been low-key terrified all day that he might give me the cold shoulder tonight. Even with Aunt Linda’s pep talk, there was no way I could overlook it if he completely ignored me. But if he was acknowledging me in front of the basketball guys, that was different.