One Night Can Change It All

I stare at him from my place against the wall. He has so much energy on stage. There is a confidence there that never existed when we were in high school together. He's not that same shy nerd anymore. He belts lyrics with soul and jumps around when he's not singing. It's apparent his guitar playing skills have gotten better over the years.

The song stops. I get a better look at him now that he's not flailing around. He doesn't wear his glasses and his suit fits him quite snuggly. His hair is still relatively long. It's not mussed back though, not like in high school. It flows freely from his baseball cap and gives him the boyish charm that can make any girl's heart melt. I know he still makes my heart ache.

His fellow band mate, the bass player, steps up to the microphone. He shies to the back, near the drummer, and takes a sip of water.

"How is everyone tonight?" the bass player says.

The groups of teenage students yell in excitement.

And why wouldn't they be excited. One of the most popular bands in Chicago is playing at Glenbrook South High School. Sure, it’s a benefit dance but it means a lot to the students.

"I'm feeling fucking great too," he laughs.

The students yell again.

"Well, we're going to take a short break so Patty can rest his angel voice but, never fear, we will be back on this stage soon."

A mumble of "Don't call me Patty" is picked up by the mics. The bass player laughs and says his goodbye to the crowd. The band leaves through the curtains attached to the stage.

The principal of the school had us set up a room in the back for them to relax. He also wants one of the teachers to check on the band in the middle of sets. Guess which teacher got picked

Me.

It makes me a little nervous to be seeing the object of my teenage desire again. Especially after so many years. But he probably won't recognize me. I never talked to him when we went to school together. I highly doubt he noticed me. Not many people did back then.

"That's your cue to go back there," one of my fellow teachers says.

I nod, pushing myself off the wall and walking into the hallway leading to the backstage area. The music blaring from the speakers is muffled here; my ears don't hurt as bad.

I remember a time when I loved loud music. I used to drown myself in it.

I don't do that anymore.

My shoes click against the floor as I walk through the backstage area, resonating off the walls. I stop at my destination, a door with a cardboard star on it.

It’s the best we could come up with on short notice.

I tap on the door.

"Come in," his voice calls.

I almost swoon but I catch myself in time.

My shaking hand pushes the door open. The band looks up as I enter.

"Hi, I was just sent back here to make sure you had everything you needed," I say, trying to sound confident.

I hope it worked.

He stares at me, thoughtful. His lips are pursed slightly, his eyebrows bunched together.

"I think we're okay. I didn't catch your name," the bassist smiles.

"Kat," the object of my fascination answers for me.

My heart leaps. He remembers me.

"How do you know that? Are you stalking her?" the bassist asks.

"We went to school together."

"Any friend of Patrick's is a friend of ours. Come sit down," the drummer says.

I oblige, taking a seat in one of the random chairs. My stomach does back flips.

"I'm Pete Wentz," the bassist says.

"Andy," the drummer states.

"I'm the magnificent Joe," the other guitarist says.

I'm pretty sure none of them went to this school.

"And you should know I'm Patrick," he says.

Of course I do.

"I'm Kathrynne, or Kat," I say.

"So what are you doing here? I didn't peg you as someone who would want to return to this school," Patrick says.

"I could say the same for you. You weren't exactly Mr. Popularity," I reply.

The music gets louder but the songs are still indistinguishable.

"I thought a benefit dance would be a good idea."

"It was. This sold more tickets than homecoming," I reply.

"How do you know that?"

"I teach here."

Patrick stares for a moment; then lets out a loud laugh.

"You're kidding," he says through laughs.

"Nope."

"You seem like the type who would want to stay away from this place at all costs."

"I guess it just drew me back in."

There is a silence amongst us. Only the music playing in the gym can be heard, rumbling low in the room.

"Can we go out there and dance?" asks Pete.

"If you can handle being mauled by a crowd of teenagers, go for it," I answer.

"Sweet," Pete stands, "Who's coming with me?"

Joe and Andy stand.

"We'll see you in a bit, Patrick," Andy says.

They walk from the room, leaving Patrick and I alone.

"So teaching, do you like it?" Patrick asks.

"It's okay. I get to help students who are like I was."

Shy, confused, depressed, in need of a friend, and helplessly crushing on a guy I would never get.

He nods. "Its good you're doing something to help."

There is another silence. It's comfortable. Probably because we're both relatively quiet.

"This is going to sound so random but do you remember those secret admirer notes that you got?" Patrick asks.

"During junior year? Yeah. The guy asked me to prom through those and never showed up. I guess they were all just a joke. How did you know about those? I don't remember telling anyone."

He smiles.

That’s the same smile he would give when he was nervous.

"See, I'm the one who gave you the notes," he says, rubbing the back of his head.

He what?

Of all the people in the school, he was the one to play such a cruel joke on me?

"How could you?" I ask.

"It wasn't a joke," he says quickly, "I really did want to go to prom with you and I really did like you."

"Then why didn't you show up?"

"I was nervous."

"Why would you be nervous?" I ask.

"I didn't know if you would like me."

Really? He must not have caught a glimpse of my notebooks covered in doodles of his name and hearts.

"Patrick, I had a crush on you back then."

And I still do.

He stares at his shoes.

"You think you could have a crush on me again so that I can ask you to get coffee with me tomorrow?" he asks, not looking up.

I smile involuntarily.

"Definitely."

He looks up at me. There is a faint blush on his cheeks.

The music changes outside to a slow song. I can still hear it in the room.

Those children are going to go deaf.

"So, uh, it's a dance, you know, and, uh, I wanted to know if you wanted to dance," Patrick says, his awkwardness shining through.

He's still the same nerd I couldn't get enough of.

"Of course," I answer, standing.

He does the same, closing the distance between us with his short strides. His hands wrap around my waist; my arms wrap around his shoulders. We sway to the beat of a song neither of us can hear the words to.

I guess it's true; one night can change it all.