Déjà vu

Just like any other Tuesday, Harper, Sunny and I assembled after school for a beverage and to discuss happenings. I was expecting the two of them to bombard me with more questions about my fight with the teacher, but they didn’t. They had asked casually, in passing, what had happened, and I gave them the shortened version, void of George, and that was it. All we talked about was the weather, a movie called Backbones and the picnic on Saturday. When we left the café, relief flooded my system. I went the whole day without anyone asking me anything about George or the principal’s office. There had to be some kind of catch?

When I finally got home, I dove straight into my room and emptied my school bag onto my bed. I had a damaging amount of homework which had grown through procrastination and I was determined to power through before the weekend came along. I was not in a good place with the teachers to be falling behind with work.

After what seemed like eternity, I was contemplating an indefinite break when Mom called out from the hallway announcing the arrival of one of my friends. There was a polite knock on my door shortly after and I sat up, welcoming the distraction.

“Come in,” I sang, shifting some on my books aside and making a space for whoever it was.

“Hey,” Rachel slipped past the door and closed it behind her. Her bright fuchsia dress lit up my pastel colored room. “I brought this back.”

She floated over and dropped a brown leather jacket on the egg chair in the corner of the room. I’d forgotten she’d borrowed that a couple of weekends ago, she probably could have gotten away with keeping it.

“Thanks,” I chirped.

“Is this history?” She dropped down on the bed beside me and my work, then twisted until she could read a portion of my text book.

“Yep.”

She wrinkled her nose then looked up at me, “Got time for a catch up? I really wish I was your age sometimes, then I wouldn’t have to go around pestering everyone.”

“Something interesting did happen today, actually. Funny you should ask…”

“Well yeah,” she laughed lightly, ignorance foiled, “Harper called me. She said you got into some trouble at school and I thought, well that’s odd? You’re a reasonably good student, apart from the occasional skipping of class.”

“That was only once!”

“Or twice, or thrice…but who’s counting, really?”

She was over exaggerating, but I decided it wasn’t worth the argument and shrugged.

“Okay, so,” I changed the subject, “I got into a minor fight with my sociology teacher.”

Rachel lifted her legs and folded them on my bed, eager for the details, “Aren’t you, like, a sociology nerd?”

“Yes! I am. Well I try to be, but it didn’t have anything to do with the class, it was that stupid teacher Mr.Hines.”

“Agh Mr. Hines!”

“He got this poor girl to stand up in front of us and he wanted her to tell everyone about life as a lower class citizen! Isn’t it just—it makes my blood boil thinking about it!”

“And then Anna got riled up and teacher got slammed?”

“At first,” I nodded and looked down at my hands, “Then Anna got sent out.”

“Ouch. Not fun…. Tom would say it was a good deal. Better than being in there right?” She laughed as she imagined Tom ‘class clown’ Moretti in the same situation, “so what’s happening now? Are you out of the class for good? You’re not expelled or anything are you!?”

“I didn’t get in any serious trouble,” I assured her, “but I came close. I got called into the principal’s office pretty much straight after everyone in the class walked out.”

“Everyone walked out?!”

“Ah, did I not mention that?”

She shook her head but beamed with excitement, “Wow, so much respect!”

“Actually…I wasn’t the reason they walked out.”

She tilted her head, confused, and waited for an explanation, as it was plain to see she couldn’t think of another reason.

That was the moment I decided Rachel, not Harper for once, was going to my confidante in the battle against George Holley. I wouldn’t have to worry about her spilling anything to Harper or Sunny, due to the fact she wasn’t in our school year. Tom might be a big problem, he was well known for his snooping abilities, and she did spend every available minute of her day with him…. but we’d work around that.

“George walked out after I left. The rest of the class just followed him.”

Her eyebrows rose abruptly, then lowered again as she mulled it over, “George….?”

“Holley. George ‘woopdie freakin doo’ Holley.”

Rachel’s eyebrows remained furrowed, like this story wasn’t quite adding up, “Sorry if I’m way out of line here but…don’t you two hate each other?”

I sat on that one for a minute. Hate was a strong word, but I did dislike him with a passion. I really didn’t want to tell her that George, out of nowhere, suddenly didn’t feel the same way… it would be stupid saying it out loud. Even thinking it was inappropriate. There was no way around it though.

“Anna…?”

I set my mouth in a grim line, “It’s a bit one-sided now.”

Rachel’s eyebrows hit the roof again, but this time they stayed there and were accompanied by her mouth gaping open so wide I could see her tonsils. Her voice came out in a high pitched tone, completely soaked in disbelief, “You mean, you actually have the hots for him now?!? Even after he’s been such a douche to you?!? Wow that’s huge—”

“No!!” I had to interrupt her there, “Oh good gracious no! I still despise the man!! How could you even suggest…argh….”

“Well then….” Her face neutralized again and she slumped in her seat as she thought about it. I could almost hear the click in her head. Her mouth dropped open again “Nooo…”

I sighed, embarrassed, “he got called into the principal’s office with me and since the principal has a great big man crush on him, we both managed to escape unscathed.”

“So, then what?” she egged me on, almost bouncing in her seat as if she’d just discovered oil, “He told you he likes you? Like, likes you likes you??”

Rachel, we weren’t 7 anymore. We needed to drop that annoying terminology.

“No, not like that…. He just wanted to hang out with me I think. It was weird. I have absolutely no idea why. I flat out told him to leave me alone, but he pretty much said no. Actually, he threatened me with his no!”

Rachel was stunned, she looked like a shocked wax model for a minute. “Wow….” She murmured.

“I don’t want anything to do with him!”

She gazed out the window, thinking, taking her time to come up with an appropriate response to all of this. After a long ten seconds or so of contemplating, she looked back at me, grinning, “Anna …you’ve gotta admit—”

“—Yes, he’s good looking,” I cut her off, rolling my eyes, “but that’s all he is. There are plenty of good looking guys at our school, it’s everything else about him that I can’t handle.”

She nodded in understanding. It was a lot easier to get my point across with Rachel, I couldn’t imagine Harper letting me off the hook with that explanation.

“…have you told the other girls? Harper couldn’t keep something like this to herself…..she would have told me on the phone.”

“No, I haven’t. I’m confiding in you Rach, so please don’t tell anyone?”

She bounced with joy again, ecstatic to be in the loop for once, “No problem! My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks. I just want to deal with this problem on the sly, you know? Get rid of it then pretend it never happened….you can’t even tell Tom, okay?”

She zipped her fingers across her lips, “Secret is safe!”

I felt relief getting that off my chest, and I was even more relieved that it was Rachel who knew. She was Miss reliable.

“Phew…” Rachel rose from her seat and smiled, “well, I don’t know about you, but I’m keen for some ice cream.”

“Umm…I haven’t even eaten my dinner yet…”

“Let’s have desert first. It’s customary in some cultures,” she insisted, ushering me away from my homework.

“Really? Which ones?”

“Ah… I don’t know. Come on.”

-----------

I made it through school the next day unscathed. No sociology on Wednesdays meant no run in with Mr. Hines, and I thoroughly checked every one of my other classes to make sure George wasn’t in them. He wasn’t, but I was not about to make that mistake again. Most of the days banter was about the new girl starting tomorrow and what she would be like; my run in with the teacher seemed to have been lost in the masses. It wasn’t as exciting now that nobody was getting punished.

Music was my last class for the day, thankfully. Our teacher let us use a lot of time in class however we wanted. Most of the time it was just a relax class for me, but music and I had a strange relationship.

When I mentioned before that I liked playing the piano poorly…that was only kind of true. I never liked to talk about it, but I was a trained classical pianist; I had been going to lessons twice a week since the tender age of four. Sure, I enjoyed it to a certain degree, but it wasn’t something I saw myself doing in 20 years time. When I turned ten and was finally old enough to discover I wasn’t into it, I couldn’t really stop then could I? What a waste of six years…

So now, after no less than 12 years of constant training and exams, I only did music because I was good at it, not because I wanted too. Inspirational. I wasn’t a musical mastermind like Amy Wheeler and her Bassoon, Zach Mason with his guitar or Luis French on his violin, but I knew all the slang. I would most definitely pass with good grades.

It was just motivation I lacked.

“Alright class,” Our teacher, Mr. Shea the trombone man, addressed us merrily, “I’m giving you another free period to work on your midyear compositions. Hop to it. Oh, Kevin, it’s your turn to use the band room.”

The rest of the students dispersed into their respective corners and Mr. Shea scampered off into his office. We were the ideal class to be left alone, there were no troublemakers. You needed to audition and get high grades to get into senior music. Tom and I were probably the misfits, but honestly, that wasn’t saying anything at all. Some of the kids in there were such drones.

Tom made it his job to keep me from falling off my rocker with boredom. We would sit on a table near the drum sets and pretend we were using them so nobody would play them. I know it was a music class, but it was so annoying when people smashed away while you were trying to concentrate.

“I’ve got a new idea for ‘nameless’,” Tom announced, pulling a sparkling blue ukulele out of its case and adjusting it on his lap. ‘Nameless’ was the ever-changing, yet to be named composition he’d been working on for the last couple of weeks.

He started strumming some bright plinky chords on his instrument and swaying along to himself while I ate an apple left over from lunch. I wouldn’t be doing any composing today, I’d decided.

Tom was great though. He wasn’t a boring classical nut like me or the other theory students, he was unique. He knew little to no theory, but that didn’t stop him from acing every performance and composition task we were given. He was like one of the Beatles; if he heard it in his head, he could turn it into music. Just like magic… the Beatles were magical…

“And then there’s a quick change from A flat major to B minor and presto – An ingenious chord progression! I’ve done the licks and the beats, and I’m on the hunt for a sweet pianist to hit some keys…?”

I downed a hunk or apple then leaned against the wall, “Alright, my place tonight. Dad’s away on business so he won’t bother us.”

“Cool bananas,” Tom nodded and played a very happy sounding chord, then parked up against the wall beside me, “Luis has agreed to add some strings next time he gets the band room, which is tomorrow. That boy is some kind of phenomenon I tell ya. Him and that violin…. I’m scared I’ll cry when he plays. That’s not manly at all.”

I chuckled, “yeah he’s talented. Too talented…”

“Him and George Holley are good friends aren’t they? That’s intimidating. People who are crazy good at everything flocking together….”

Were they? Huh…

I found myself unintentionally searching the room for said violinist, and spotted him opposite us talking with a gathering of girls I didn’t know. Luis was unnaturally good-looking like George, but in a more classical way. His hair was blond and cut tidily, unlike Georges messy bed headed locks. There was something very gentlemanly about him, which made it hard for me to believe him and George were friends at all.

“I don’t get how those two could be friends. Luis is actually a decent person.”

“Hey, opposites attract.…?”

Was he implying they were together? I looked over at him and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. I let out a short sharp laugh, “Doubt it. With the amount of girls George pulls?”

Tom shrugged, concurring, “I don’t think Luis has any problems in that department either. They would be a mean woman pulling team. Look at that girl there, the one with the triangle, she’s all over him.”

I squinted, “Oh, you’re right. She’s trying to make a move! Music class romance.”

We both snickered like perverts in the corner. Tom was right though, I’m sure if the two of them pooled together they could get every girl in the school at least once. Well almost, with a few exceptions here and there. Rachel was already madly in love with the fool next to me, but Harper and Sunny would go running like pigeons to bread crumbs. I did exclude myself, of course. Like I said, even the thought of me and George…

Although….maybe I could warm up to Luis? Interesting thought…

“No I don’t think I would.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, “Huh?”

“Oh, what? Umm, I was just thinking that Luis isn’t really my type.”

Tom was surprised at my statement from nowhere, and he looked inquisitively over at Luis, “You sure? You two could make some sweet sweet music together.”

Tom laughed wickedly at his pun. I shook my head and flicked him on the shoulder.

“And you’d have some little attractive musical babies,” he added thoughtfully.

I thwacked him harder on the shoulder this time and he winced, still laughing to himself, “Sorry Anna. I forgot, you like your men a little more rugged.”

“Do I?”

“Actually… I don’t know. Do you?”

“I don’t know either.”

“Luis looks too boring. George is a bit more rugged. More, rockstary. Yeah, you’re a George girl.”

“What are you implying?” I grumbled.

“That if you had to choose between the two of them, you would pick Georgie.”

I frowned, not liking where this conversation was going, “Where the heck did this come from?”

“My imagination.”

“What are you, my sassy gay friend?”

He shrugged, “Something like that. I know you’d never go there, but this is a fun game. Could swing either way with Harper, but Sunny is definitely a Luis girl. Could you imagine that? Perfect couple.”

Glad that the grill was taken off me, I looked over at Luis again; undoubtedly an ideal match for Sunny. He was the kind of guy who would get red roses delivered to your classroom once a day. The kind of guy that comes with a guaranteed stamp of approval from the parents, which was a must have for any boyfriend of little Sunny's.

“Maybe we should set them up?” I pondered.

“I think Sunny’s got her eye on George to be honest.”

I shook my head vehemently, “Her parents would never approve!”

“I think they would. That boy could charm the pants off the president. Metaphorically, of course….although….”

Oh brother. What the heck did Rachel see in this loon? I guess you gotta love ‘em.