Travis Starnes
patreon
Playing by Ear (Country Roads #1) - Chapter 10
🕑 Added 2020-09-03 17:33:45 +0000 UTC
“Hellloo,” I said in a singsong voice as I slid my crutches into Hanna’s car the next afternoon.
I’d already annoyed mom in the morning before work with my mood, but nothing was going to stop how good I was feeling after last night's date. I wasn’t even annoyed by the boot on my foot at the moment.
“I take it the date went well,” she said, laughing at my behavior.
“Did it ever.”
“So, spill.”
“Well, she kicked my ass two games in a roll. Turns out, I suck at bowling. We had pretty good burgers and talked for a while about all kinds of stuff, then I got dropped off back home.”
“Is that all?”
“I might have kissed her while we waited for Jordan to pick us up,” I said, knowing what she was fishing for and weirdly a little embarrassed to say it out loud.
“From what I hear, you two were sucking face in front of the bowling alley.”
“Jordan called you?” I asked, turning, and glaring at her.
“Don’t be like that. We got you to ask her out and helped you pick where to go for your date. We’re invested now. You’re like a little puppy we found and nursed back to health. Plus, it’s good gossip.”
“Little puppy?”
“Take it as a compliment and think about the upside of having older girls look out for you.”
I gave her my best glare. Of course, I wasn’t actually mad. For another, nothing was getting through my good mood today. Plus, she was right. I might have asked Rhonda out without prompting, but I also might not have, and the bowling alley idea would have never occurred to me. Having them in my corner was a plus. Even if it did come with getting shit from time to time.
“Uh-huh. Well, don’t be mad if I pee on the carpet from time to time.”
“You’re a boy, it’s almost expected. You also haven’t thought through the flip side of Jordan calling me this morning about your date yet.”
“Huh?”
“Jordan. You know Rhonda’s sister. The person Rhonda would have talked to after her date, who would have then talked to me about it.”
“What did she say?” I said, turning suddenly, pushing myself up on the center console with both hands.
All I really needed was a tail to wag to perfect my imitation of an excited puppy.
“Haha, down boy. Rhonda is, if anything, in a better mood than you this morning. Jordan says she can’t remember the last time she saw Rhonda so happy. She went on and on about how great you were. Apparently, your kiss also got pretty good marks.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You did well. She’s looking forward to going out with you again. Make sure you don’t mention you’ve heard anything, though. For as bad as girls’ gossip, we hate to be gossiped about.”
“So she can give every detail of our date, but I can’t say anything?”
“Exactly. If I have anything to teach you about dating, this would be my number one piece of advice. Girls hate it when guys brag about what they did. If you do anything beyond holding hands, keep it to yourself. That one thing alone will make sure you get future dates, as long as you aren’t a jerk.”
I realized at that moment how dense I was. Here I was with older female friends, and it never occurred to me that they were a resource that most guys would kill for.
“Got it. So how was your date?”
“Apparently not as successful as yours.”
“You didn’t have a good time?”
“No, I did. It just didn’t put me in the kind of mood you’re in. Of course, I’ve been on a lot of dates, and you said that was your first actual date. You’re lucky, actually. Most people’s first dates are in middle school where one of your parents drive you to the mall or a movie, and you’re both too young to really know how to act. There might be some benefits to waiting till you’re a little older today.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that. I do think you dodged my question, though.”
“I wasn’t dodging this time, just thinking back to when I was twelve and awkward as hell. I understand you were the one who actually put the move on Rhonda, and it was smooth, just leaning in and kissing her. My first kiss, the guy closed his eyes, moved in too fast, and ended up headbutting me. I would have killed to have confidence when I started dating. Anyways, my date was fine. Marcus was a perfect gentleman, which is rare when it comes to high school sports stars.”
“They’re usually all hands?”
“And then some. He didn’t even try to cop a feel when we... anyways, that gets him extra points.”
“Look at you, all shy and modest.”
“Bite me. Look, my friends have always been girls, and the conversation there is... different. It’s weird to talk to a dude about this stuff.”
That was my second realization during this conversation. Not only did I have older female friends for advice, but currently, she was the person I was closest friends with. Not that we were BFF’s or anything, but between rides to school and work, sitting together at lunch when I wasn’t with Rhonda, and working together at the Blue Ridge, I spent more time with her than pretty much anyone else.
Thinking about what I knew about Hanna, that was probably true for her, too, since she didn’t hang out with the lunch group much outside of Jordan. My understanding was they only hung out once every couple of weeks.
“So, there’ll be another date?”
“If he asks, sure.”
“I bet he will. He seemed into you, so unless you sucked on the date, he’ll be back.”
“Please, I’m a catch.”
We pulled up to the Blue Ridge, which cut the conversation short, but Hanna did give me a hip bump on the way in, flashing me a smile before she broke off to put her stuff in the room behind the bar that servers used to keep their stuff safe since it stayed locked and only the bartender and chef had the key. I gave her a smile in return. When her mom volunteered her to help me out with getting to school and getting a job, I don’t think either of us imagined things would turn out this way.
My good mood came to a crashing halt Monday morning when I was called to the office before my first-period class even got started. The front office lady directed me to one of the chairs outside of the counselors' office to wait.
I kept watching the time tick down on the clock, waiting to be called. After more than thirty minutes, his door finally opened, and Mr. Packer stuck his head out, “Charlie, come on in.”
I got up and hobbled into his office, sitting in the same seat I had on the first day of school.
“So Charlie, we’re a couple of weeks into school, and I wanted to check in and see how things are going. I’ll say upfront you aren’t in any kind of trouble, I just thought that considering your unique situation, it was important to find out if you were adapting to the new environment already.”
“I’m fine,” I said.
He might have said I wasn’t in trouble, but every vibe I got off this guy screamed not to trust him.
“I see. First, how’s the foot? Is it healing, okay?”
“It’s fine.”
“Look, Charlie, I know kids your age don’t do well with adults and authority, and that’s okay. It really is. I’m not one of those twenty-something guidance counselors who try and be friends with all the students and wants to ‘rap’ with them.”
It took a tone of willpower to keep from rolling my eyes at that last comment. Even using it as a slam against other people, there was no way to say something like that without coming off like a tool.
“I’ve been checking in with your teachers, and they mostly say you’re very quiet in class. While that’s not necessarily a bad thing, since it means you aren’t disruptive, it also means you aren’t engaging all the way, which could be a problem down the road. Doing the classwork and readings is good, but it’s important to take part in class if you want to excel.”
“Except for Mrs. Rowe’s class, there hasn’t been a lot of chances to participate.”
“Yes, Mrs. Rowe did say you were active, which is good, but I’ve also talked to Coach Bryant, who says you refused to participate in the class and are sometimes disruptive in class. He said he even had to separate you by yourself to work on the group project you’re currently doing in class.”
“That’s not true,” I said, pissed but not surprised. “On the first day of school, I was late for his class since I was here meeting with you. He said I had to be in a group by myself because I missed the first day of school and was late to class, even though they hadn’t even picked groups yet.”
“Well, Coach Bryant has been teaching for many years, and I’m sure he has his reasons for making that decision. As he said, you did miss the first day of school and could have missed important information needed by the group. While it’s not your fault you missed class, it’s also not the fault of your classmates either. Perhaps he felt you being paired with other students who did attend the first class would unfairly hurt them. I’m certain he’ll give you every opportunity, even working in your own group.”
That was so much bullshit I almost couldn’t hold my tongue. My understanding was practically nothing happened the first day, beyond going over the syllabuses. From the sheets passed out later in the first week with grading requirements for the project and what was expected of us, I was positive he hadn’t even talked about the specifics of it yet.
Of course, it should have been a surprise one teacher would stick up for another. Kids came and went, and the staff had to keep working with each other. Plus, it wasn’t like I had any kind of actual complaint beyond the Coach being a jerk.
“That aside, I just want to make sure you know my door is open if you are having issues. I do think you need to make an effort to not be disruptive in Coach Bryant’s class. I don’t know if you have some kind of misplaced anger at him because of what happened with Aaron. Still, you mustn’t let that disagreement hurt your grades or relationships with one of your teachers.”
I tried, but I wasn't’ able to keep my mouth shut.
“That’s BS. I have never been disruptive in his class, and I didn’t even know he was Aaron’s coach until a couple of days into the week. He started making snarky comments at me the minute he saw my name on the tardy slip. When I answer a question in class, even when it’s right, he takes shots at me. He clearly has problems with me, not the other way around.”
“Look, Charlie, I know it’s been a tough transition, so I’ll let that pass this time. Coach Bryant has been teaching here at Carr for over ten years. He’s a good teacher, and there’s no reason he would inappropriately treat a student. Now, I know you’re still a teenager with all the hormones and anger that comes with that, and I know how easy it is for someone your age to take things out of proportion. All I can tell you is to think twice and consider what he’s really saying to you before you jump to any conclusions.”
I did manage to hold my tongue. I’d known as soon as the words had gone out of my mouth, I wasn’t doing myself any favors. There was no way a school counselor would take the word of a student over a teacher, not without a lot of history, witnesses, and documentation. I was new to the school and the town, meaning there was even less of a reason to listen to me.
Mr. Parker looked at his watch as the bell rang, interrupting anything else he was going to say.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you from missing any other classes, but I want you to think about what we talked about today. I really do want you to succeed here at Carr, and I promise you every other teacher here does as well. Remember that, as important as all the stuff that happens in high school can seem, none of that matters. What’s really important is to make sure you learn the skills here that can get you into a good college, which can make the difference in how you start off your career. We’re a stepping stone for young minds, but it’s up to you to get all the way to the top.”
I could just imagine the over-wordy, stupid motivational poster he got that off of.
“Now, I know with your injury it’s hard to hurry, and we’re already well into the passing period, so ask Mrs. Morgan to give you a tardy pass, just in case.”
“Sure,” I said, collecting my bag and crutches and swinging past him as he opened the door.
I almost skipped Mrs. Morgan’s desk, since I could almost make it to history if I hustled, but Mr. Parker hadn’t been wrong about how much slower I went with the boot on. With my History class being almost as far from the front office as it could be and still be in the main building, I didn’t want to risk it.
I had to wait for Mrs. Morgan to finish talking to a parent on the phone before I could get my pass, which guaranteed I’d need it since the bell rang again before I even made it out of the office.
I hobbled down the empty halls to my class and knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened, and I was forced to awkwardly pull myself backward on the crutches when Coach Bryant stepped all the way out and closed the door behind him.
“Mr. Nelson, what did I say about coming to class late?”
“I’m sorry, Coach, but I was called to the office to talk to Mr. Parker during first period. I have a tardy slip.”
“I don’t care if you have a note from the principal, I require students in my class to show the proper respect to their classmates and me. That includes showing up to class and being prepared to learn on time. If you can’t manage that, then you can expect to fail this class. Am I clear, Mr. Nelson?”
I knew talking back to him would do no good and only make things worse. For whatever reason, he seriously had it out for me.
“Yes, Sir,” was all I said instead.
“We had a worksheet today that you will receive a zero on. You have two zeroes you can drop at the end of the semester, so make sure to not show up late to my class again if you don’t want this to affect your grade.”
“Can I come in to class?”
“No, Mr. Nelson, you cannot. Show up on time, or don’t bother showing up at all. I will be marking you as absent for today.”
With that, he turned and went back into the classroom, closing the door behind him. I could see several of my classmates looking at me through the small window in the door as I watched his back walk away from me.
I stood there for several minutes, seething rage inside of me. Doing something stupid, like hitting the door or causing a scene, would just come back on me. All I could do was swallow my anger. I considered going back to Mr. Parker’s office but decided against it.
For one, going to tattle to the counselor wasn’t my style. More importantly, considering the conversation I’d just had with him, I couldn’t imagine he’d care or help much. Instead, I made my way to my math class and lowered myself to the floor next to the closed door to wait for the next class to start.
The bell rang, and students began spilling out of doors all along the hall. It took me a minute to push myself back up, using my crutches and the wall. When I finally got upright and retrieved my backpack, I turned to find Ms. Seidel, my math teacher, standing in the open doorway.
She was probably my youngest teacher. Most staff and teachers I’d seen so far were in the forties or older, and most of those were even older than that. I hadn’t been in public school long enough to know if that was weird, but it did seem unusual.
“It’s Charlie, right? Why were you out in the hall? Shouldn’t you have been in your second-period class?”
“I wasn’t allowed in that class.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was called to talk to the counselor during the first period, and it ran over. They gave me a tardy slip, but Coach Bryant wouldn’t take it, so I had to find somewhere to wait until this class started.”
“That doesn’t sound right. Did you want me to talk to Coach Bryant?”
By now, the hallway was starting to thin out, and most of the kids in my class had already gone inside, leaving Ms. Seidel and me standing off to one side of the door by ourselves. I thought about taking her up on her offer since it would be nice to have an ally when it came to Coach Bryant but decided against it. She almost certainly hadn’t been at the school very long, considering her age, and Coach Bryant had been teaching here for years. Considering his temper, all asking for her help would do would make her life harder and give Coach Bryant another reason to hate me.
“No, Ma’am. I’ll deal with it.”
“Okay, well, if you keep having issues, I want you to know you can come talk to me.”
She motioned for me to go find my seat. While I didn’t take her up on her offer, it was good to know there was at least one adult at Carr willing to help.
Math went better, although how hard I had to struggle through the explanations of how to do some of the problems didn’t do my mood any favors. While I could appreciate Ms. Seidel’s offer to go to bat for me, I didn’t appreciate the subject she taught much.
I was in my own head when I got to my next class and just sat at my desk, staring at my hands, listening to the teacher start the day's lecture. When I finally looked up, I found Rhonda staring at me from her desk. She had a concerned look on her face, raising her eyebrows when I finally made contact.
I tried to push past my bad mood and give her a smile, but it clearly wasn’t convincing. Finally, about halfway through, she passed me a small note that said, ‘what’s wrong?’ I was starting to write a reply when the class got quiet. I looked up to find the teacher staring at us from the front of the room.
“Ms. Hains and Mr. Nelson, I’m sure whatever it is you two are discussing is of the utmost importance, but I would appreciate it if you two could give your attention to me and not each other for the remainder of the class.”
We both mumbled apologies and stopped looking at each other, although I kept catching Rhonda trying to look over at me surreptitiously from the corner of my eye. Rhonda was practically vibrating with how much she wanted to talk as we collected our stuff at the end of class to head to lunch, only to be stopped by the teacher on the way out.
“Stop you two. I don’t want a repeat of today’s behavior. I know Ms. Haines moved seats the first week for you two to sit together, and that’s fine as long as you pay attention in class and don’t distract your fellow students. If we have a repeat of this, I will separate you two, is that clear?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” we said in unison.
“Okay, now I know you’re dying to get out of here so you can carry on whatever it was that was so important. Go.”
We both headed out the door, Rhonda slowing her pace to mine.
“What’s wrong?” she said as soon as we were in the hall. “When we talked last night, you were in such a good mood.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to ignore you. I promise. I had a run-in with Coach Bryant... again. Mr. Parker called me to his office in the first period to talk about how I was adjusting and about ‘bad reports’ he was getting from Coach Bryant about my behavior in his class, which is bullshit. We finished just as the second period was starting, so he handed me a pass and sent me to class, but when I got there, Coach Bryant wouldn’t take the pass. He gave me a zero on today's assignment and wouldn’t even let me in the room. So I was in a lousy mood still from that. I promise it has nothing to do with you. Actually, seeing you, I’m starting to feel a little better.”
“Only a little,” she said.
“Okay, a lot better.”
“Good. I’m sorry he’s such a pain. Why is he out to get you?”
“Probably because of my run-in with Aaron, who's apparently one of his pet football players. He’s been on my ass since the first day of school, and I can’t figure out what the hell to do about it. I know he’s going to flunk me if he can manage it.”
“Do you think you can go talk to the vice-principal or the counselor?”
“I don’t think talking to Mr. Parker is an option. I tried to bring up some of the problems today, but he wouldn’t listen. I don’t see any reason why the vice principal would be any different. Sorry, I don’t mean to dump this all on you. I promise I was in a great mood this morning before I came to school, and I’m really happy to see you. I’m feeling better already.”
“I don’t mind if you feel you need someone to talk to.”
“Thanks, that helps actually. I’m going to go get my lunch.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said, holding my hand.
So far, I’d managed to avoid having her see me get a bagged lunch from the poor kids' section, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen me eating it. Besides, after snubbing her in class, even unconsciously, I needed to mend some fences. We’d only been on one date so far, and I didn’t want to ruin something before it even really started.
We chatted as we waited in line, and I got my food. I was still amazed by how easy she was to talk to, at least when we were alone. As we walked up to the lunch table, she released my hand, and the smile she’d had as we talked faded into a passive non-expression. I could almost see her transition from the Rhonda I got to know on Saturday into the Rhonda, who was concerned about how her friends would see her.
“So, how was your date on Saturday?” Camille asked as we sat down.
“We had a really good time,” Rhonda said.
“What’d yall do?” Abigale asked.
“We just hung out, ate dinner, and talked. It was pretty great, actually. You wouldn’t know it when he’s here at lunch, but Charlie’s pretty smooth.”
I managed to keep my face passive as I listened to Rhonda speak. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she glossed over our going bowling since it was pretty obvious the reason she’d stopped playing was to protect her image, but I was still a little hurt. If they were really her friends, they would know what she liked and would be happy for her going on a date that targeted her specific interests.
It wasn’t that I wanted their approval on my date planning expertise, especially since bowling had been Jordan’s suggestion, but I didn’t like how they made Rhonda feel self-conscious about liking what she liked, or that she was so ready to give in to that pressure. I may not be the most confident person in the world, but I couldn’t imagine altering myself to become someone I wasn’t, just to be accepted.
“So you just ate dinner and talked? I mean, that’s okay, I guess. This weekend, Will took me down to Ashville, where his brother’s a sophomore at UNCA. He’s a Rho Kappa, and he got Will and me into their beginning of the year bash. It was wild.”
I could just imagine how that actually went down. I didn’t know a lot of frat guys, but I had been around plenty of early twenty-year-olds in the bars and clubs dad played at, and the idea of them being okay with fifteen and sixteen-year-olds hanging around their party seemed absurd to me. None of Rhonda’s friends seemed to think it was weird, which only said they had never imagined life past high school, except in an abstract sense. It got to Rhonda, though. She seemed to pull into herself a little bit as everyone turned their attention to Camille, who I was really beginning to hate.
She spent the rest of the lunch regaling us with stories of how college boys hit on her and how much they drank. If even ten percent of what she said was true, I’d be surprised, but again, the rest of them seemed to eat it up. I reached down to hold Rhonda’s hand and give it a squeeze, hoping she understood that I thought our date was great, and she had nothing to be concerned about. She squeezed it back, but then pushed my hand away. Again, I tried not to take it personally.
As lunch ended, we walked out of the cafeteria without saying much.
“Hey,” I said as we got to the point where we’d go different directions. “I’ll call you tonight if that’s okay.”
“Yeah, I’d like that. See ya,” she said before patting me on the arm and heading down the hall.
Now, I wasn’t expecting a kiss. We’d only had the one, so PDA’s would have been weird at this point, but I didn’t like the way she seemed embarrassed of me when our date didn’t compare to someone else's in her mind.
Once again, I started wondering if this was something I should be concerned about. I liked Rhonda, but I really didn’t like this side of her. I also didn’t like that I had this same thought so often. I’d have to figure out something soon.
