Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 241(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Those had been some of my favorite nights.
Until we meet again.
I sighed. The fall semester couldn’t come soon enough.
1
EMIL
We were all moved into the dorms. Classes would officially start on Monday, but first came a grueling week of band practices in the blistering sun. At least we didn’t have to get all geared up like the football players. I didn’t know how they could stand the heat.
“Glad the coach gives them water breaks,” Jonah said, following my line of sight to the other end of the football field. This was our second year in marching band together. Jonah also played the trumpet, and he had orchestra dreams, but I split my time between dance and music for now. I hadn’t figured out a direction yet.
“Right? I’d die in all that gear and then running on top of it?”
“Tell me about it,” Jonah mumbled. “I’m half dying as it is.”
When Bones looked our way, I averted my eyes. No way I’d give him more ammunition to brag about us checking him out or some other ridiculous thing. He certainly wasn’t hurting in the confidence department.
“After what happened last year with Henry,” I added, “they’re probably extra careful about the players’ needs.”
Henry “Henners” Albrecht was the quarterback and team captain, and he was also a cancer survivor. So when he fainted on the field last year, everyone was concerned his leukemia had returned. Turned out it was a severe panic attack, and he was now receiving treatment.
“Listen to us acting like they don’t practice in the heat every summer,” I said. “I’m sure the coaching staff knows what they’re doing.”
Jonah nodded. “Think they’ll make it to the championship this year?”
“Hope so. That would be awesome.”
The Sentinels had been close last year, making it all the way to the playoffs with Henry as quarterback. He looked stronger than ever now. Maybe it had everything to do with coming out of the closet and having the sweetest boyfriend ever.
His boyfriend, Lark, and I were in the dance program together. He lived off-campus, but we still hung out whenever we could. And since Lark and Henry had made it official, our friends from football and dance intermingled regularly. We were an odd bunch, but it was fun.
“Okay, break’s over,” Mr. Roberts, the band director, called. “Let’s get back in formation.”
I picked up my trumpet and lined up behind Jonah on the field. I positioned my fingers on the valves and, when given the cue, blew into the mouthpiece. We played the Roosevelt fight song, which would be in rotation our first game. We were a bit rusty but would get better with each practice. Believe it or not, it was hard to move and play at the same time. In my opinion, marching band was a sport all its own, just like dance, and I’d argue that point to death if given the chance. Besides, the fans might be coming to games to watch football, but they seemed to love our performances and configurations during the popular halftime show too.
The football team was let go first, so Mr. Roberts used the opportunity to have us practice at the fifty-yard line. The lines and markers helped us find our place better than the cones he’d set up at the opposite end of the field.
After another half-hour, we were let go for the afternoon. We headed off the field just as the football players were leaving the locker room.
“We ordered pizzas,” Bones said, approaching us, “so you’re welcome to join us in the common room.”
“Only if I can whip your ass in Ping-Pong afterward.”
A-Train and Flash groaned. By now, they were used to my competitive streak—which, for some reason, went into overdrive around Bones. I just…needed to beat him any chance I got.
“Feel like getting spanked, huh?” Bones countered.
“Oh, I enjoy spanking, though not usually during Ping-Pong.”
Henry cleared his throat and looked away while Bones turned beet-red and the other players guffawed.
“I love it when you make him blush,” Jonah said with a laugh. “Mr. Meathead Linebacker.”
I did too. A little too much. I knew he was straight, but I couldn’t resist.
By the time I stored my instrument, freshened up, and made my way back to the dorm, the pizza was half gone, likely helped along by a twelve-pack of beer. No way there was plain water in those bottles they were passing around—as if the RA wouldn’t figure it out—and my roommate’s eyes always had this glazed expression when he’d been drinking.
I grabbed a slice of pizza before it disappeared. “Already partying hard, I see.”
A-Train shrugged. “Classes don’t start for a few more days, so why not?”
He offered me the water bottle, but I turned him down. “No thanks, backwash isn’t my thing.”
“Gummies are his thing,” Bones said.
I hitched a shoulder. “Easier to hide.”
“Can’t have that stuff in my system,” Bones pointed out.