Of Love And Marching Band
Chapter Two

One of the finer joys in life is sleeping in on a Saturday. The bliss that exists in knowing you have no immediate goals to achieve, so why not take the time to sleep until 11 o’clock - just this once.

Then again, I wouldn’t know.

I cannot remember a Saturday that I was allowed to sleep in. While I’m sure that there were a few times before my younger siblings were brought into this world, but that was when I wanted to be up at 6 AM to watch morning cartoons. But, you see, most Saturdays I’m awoken by my father down in the kitchen, trying to prepare some gourmet breakfast for me and my siblings. Well, naturally, my father’s skills lie in the high school band department, not our kitchen. After he burns himself a few times, resulting in yelled obscenities that echo into the second floor where my bedroom happens to be and Lara will assist him. By this time, my brothers are usually rough housing, someone’s playing the piano or some other instrument, the dogs are barking, and my kitten wants to play.

But, not today.

Today, dad was up at school already preparing some things for full ensemble rehearsals that were starting the following Monday. Iris, Lara, and Phil were at friends’ houses for the weekend. Jason was at some weekend basketball/hockey/baseball/jock retreat and Luke appreciated a good sleeping in on the weekend as much as me. My mom, I was guessing, as at work already. She’s an ER doctor and she practically lives at that hospital.

So, I was glad to have the chance to sleep in for once. I was excited - no, ecstatic. I was, that is, until the phone rang.

“Damn it, Cali,” Luke grumbled, pushing my door open which had been barricaded in case a family member of mine saw fit to disturb me. “Advise your friends not to call before ten o’clock on Saturdays, honestly.” He threw the phone onto my stomach and stormed out of my room.

Believe it or not, Luke and I have always had the best relationship together out of all of our siblings. It might be a twin thing or it might just be that we’re a lot alike, but it worked out nicely. Even if we’re twins and he’s barely older than me (although he aptly reminds me whenever he can), he still puts into practice that “big brother” attitude when it comes to me. While it can be nice from time to time, it still bugs that crap out of me.

I glanced at my digital clock on my bedside table. It was 9:35. So much for sleeping in until noon.

“Hello?” I managed into the phone as I rubbed my eyes and sat up.

“Good morning, sunshine!” came Rachel’s overly cheery voice from the other end of the line. “How is everything?”

“Uuhhng,” I groaned, flopping back down into bed. “What do you want?”

“I told Jeremiah you aren’t a morning person and we should wait to call,” Rachel sighed heavily. “Are you going to be crabby or can I actually talk to you?”

“I’ll probably be crabby either way, so you might as well talk,” I replied. “Besides, Jeremiah knows perfectly well how much of a morning person I can be. He’s seen me at my worst.”

Rachel laughed. “Yeah, well, it takes some getting used to. Anyways, we’re heading to the mall. I want to do some damage with my recently acquired birthday money.”

“At 9:30?” I protested. “Do malls even open this early?”

“Yes, malls open this early,” Rachel shot back slowly, as though she was trying to explain the concept to a preschooler. “So, Jeremiah and I are thinking you can come pick us up around 10ish?”

“Fine - wait a tick,” I said, registering what Rachel just said. “Why am I driving if you guys are the ones that want to go?”

“Well, seeing as you just happen to love us so much,” Rachel pointed out. “Besides, we’re both on the way to the mall for you. So, it’s more convenient for all.”

“And you don’t have to use any of your gas,” I sighed.

“Now you got it,” Rachel laughed. “See you in a bit.”

“Fine,” I grumbled, hanging up the phone and flopping back into my bed. I decided that since I was going somewhere other than the living room to sit on my butt and vegetate in front of the television, I should probably let m father know just where I was going.

“Portland Band Department,” was the greeting I got when I called him at school. “Pete speaking.”

“Ah! Geja’soy, Petros!” I exclaimed, using my phone Greek accent and the only word I can pronounce correctly in the language. My family is predominately Greek and if you took a look at us you’d be able to tell. Take Luke and I for instance. We both have curly, dark brown hair, which we both wear longer, but mine much more so than Luke or my dad would throw a fit. We both have pale green eyes and glasses, but that isn’t so much a Greek thing as lack of carrots, as my mom would say. We all have that always tan Mediterranean skin that ensures that I never have to go to a tanning bed in winter. What can I say, we’re amazing.

“What do you want, Cali?”

“I’m going to the mall.”

“With?” “Rachel and Jeremiah.”

“When?”

“Ten until, well, I don’t know. I’ll take my cell phone.” I got out of bed and started to dig through my closet for something to wear.

“Do you have money?”

“Are you offering?”

“You wish.”

“Then, yes.”

“Sounds good. Call me when you get home, okay?”

“No problem. Thanks, Dad,” I finished, hanging up and tossing the phone onto my bed. I pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a tie-dye t-shirt I had made in Chemistry a few years back. I quickly gor dressed, brushed my unmanageable hair up into a ponytail, and ran down into the kitchen, where Luke was pouring himself a bowl of cereal.

“Can I borrow your car today?” Luke asked.

“Nope, I have plans,” I replied, grabbing an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter. “Jeremiah, Rachel, and I are going to the mall if you want to join us.”

“No thanks,” Luke declined, suddenly interested in his Lucky Charms.

“What,” I demanded.

“Nothing!” Luke said entirely too quickly.

“Way to suck at lying,” I scoffed, pulling up a chair next to him. “Come on, Lukey, you can tell me.”

“I was just wondering something, but I figured you’d get all big and green and scary and all, so I was going to just ponder it without you around,” Luke explained, stirring his cereal around his bowl.

“He’s straight,” I answered, knowing what he was going to ask. “Excuse me while I turn into the Hulk now.”

“How did you - ”

“Oh, please, Luke,” I rolled my eyes. “Don’t belittle me with that question. But, next time you’re wondering something like that, ask him yourself.”

“I’m not going to ask someone if they’re gay,” Luke replied in retort. “Besides, if he is - “ I put up a hand to silence him in mid-sentence.

“Stop, thanks,” I said, standing up. “I do not have time for your pointless blather. Anyways, if Miah was interested in you, don’t you think he would have made a move a while back, seeing as we’ve known him since he was an infant?”

“Are you sure, though?”

“Quite. I’m going to the mall,” I announced, putting an end to the conversation as I threw the core of my apple into the garbage can and slipped into a pair fo flip-flops that were sitting on the rug in the kitchen where we kept our shoes. “Either you can come with us or you can sit on your ass at home just like every other day.”

“I think we all know the answer to that.”

“Yes, we do,” I said, slinging my purse over my shoulder and heading out the door.

As I walked out to my car, I rubbed my eyes with my hand, still slightly annoyed with my brother. I had been combating questions of Jeremiah’s sexuality since we were at the age that people understood the difference between liking boys and liking girls. It didn’t help that he was in dance and he started doing guard, but I always gave Jeremiah the benefit of the doubt and figured that I, his best friend since diapers, would be the first to know if he was batting for a different team.

I picked up Jeremiah first, since he lived only a few blocks from my house and was closest. I honked my horn once I pulled into his driveway, which probably caused him to take his time more, seeing as he’s just that kind of guy.

“I hate you,” I stated as I watched him place a mug of coffee between his knees as he messed around with his seatbelt.

“I know, I’m a terrible person,” Jeremiah replied, rolling his eyes. “I was planning on sharing, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to anymore.”

“Ha-ha, that’s a good one.” I pulled out of his driveway, ever so carefully that he had to pick the mug up so as to not spill it on himself.

“Christ, Cali,” Jeremiah grimaced, holding up his cup and patting down his pant leg. “Honestly.”

We picked up Rachel and then booked it to the mall. I call this shopping center a mall, but, in truth, it was far from. Yes, it had an assortment of stores and all that, but it’s not very large at all. There’s a food court that contains a smoothie place, coffee shop, and a Subway. The most exclusive store in the mall was probably a Bath and Body Works.

“So, why exactly are we here again?” I asked, walking towards the entrance of the mall with Rachel and Jeremiah.

“I just got a bunch of my money for my birthday and I want to spend it,” Rachel explained.

“Why save when you can spend it all in one quick spree,” Jeremiah sighed.

“I seem to remember us doing the same with your birthday money, Miah, my dear” I pointed out.

“Besides, I want to get an outfit for my cousin’s wedding,” Rachel interjected. “I need something amazing so that all of my family will figure that I have a boyfriend, but he had plans with his parents at their summer home or yacht or something related to being rich to attend the wedding and not have to ask me about it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, putting my hands up in the air and pushing through the doors. “Oh, my God! I totally forgot that they have a music store in here. I need to find some new books for my recital because the music I’ve been playing is far too lame and - you guys are giving me the look.”

“Wow, at least she caught it before she went into the inner workings of the sixteenth measure of movement two of some piece we’ve never heard of,” Rachel joked with Jeremiah.

“No kidding. You can only nod and pretend you know what’s going on for so long,” Jeremiah joked back with a grin.

“Shut your mouths,” I smirked. “Let’s just find you the perfect outfit so I can pour over piano music for hours on end.”

“That’s the reward?” Jeremiah snorted. “Then I think we can take time to get a smoothie or something first.”

“ Normally I’d protest, but I could really use some Rockin’ Raspberry,” I nodded.

“Or Burstin’ Blueberry,” Rachel put in.

“I don’t know, I’m a bit partial to Swingin’ Strawberry,” Jeremiah added.

“Oh, crap, no, let’s just find you something to wear,” I interrupted, seeing who was sitting in the food court, right where we’d be walking by in order to get our amazin’ fruity smoothies.

“Why - oh,” Rachel started asking, then catching wind of who I was wanting to steer away from.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not one of those kids who skirts around the “mean” kids in school. In fact, there really weren’t any mean kids in my high school - we were too small. However, there was this band of girls (pardon the pun) in band with us that never seemed to know when to stop giving me grief. To be honest, it was really only Andrea Holland, the ring-leader, that caused any problems. I had been friends with the other girls until they realized they had boobs and thought that made them better than just about everyone else. They’re the girls that are in cheerleading and dance team and all those other stereotype ridden extracurricular activities, but are in band for an easy credit.

“Oh, come on, guys,” Jeremiah sighed, obviously wanting smoothies more than he cared about my mental wellbeing. “Just ignore them.” He pushed us forward to near where they were sitting before they noticed.

“Oh, hello, Calysta,” Andrea greeted, her voice full of fake sugary sweetness that would make a waffle gag. Then, almost as an afterthought, “You, too, Jeremiah and Rachel.”

“Hi, Andrea,” I said in response, trying to keep on toward the goal of Rockin’ Raspberry in a cup. It would be a just reward.

“So, we’re just beyond excited to start marching band on Monday, right girls?” Andrea continued with fake enthusiasm, either ignoring the obvious fact that I didn’t care or completely oblivious.

“Oh, yeah, it’s going to be great,” Whitney, one of Andrea’s groupies and color guard member, agreed. If she wasn’t so great with a rifle, I’m sure Jeremiah would have gone crazy. This girl didn’t have an original thought in her head.

“I’m sure you are,” I replied, folding my arms. Jeremiah and Rachel were each on one side of me, prepared to intervene if the situation arose.

“I am,” Andrea tried assuring me. “Oh, and just so you know, my parents are still very displeased about the whole choice of drum major this year.”

“Oh, honestly, Andrea, can’t you just drop the whole thing?” Rachel rolled her eyes.

Andrea looked at Rachel for a fleeting second, pursed her lips, but chose to ignore her outburst. “They are just waiting for you and your father to mess something up - anything at all. Oh, and believe me, they’ll be alerted if anything gets out of hand.”

“Well, thank you, Andrea, for that enlightening bit of information,” I replied. “The amazing thing is, I really don’t care what you or your parents think.”

“Maybe you would have gotten the position if you would have actually tried for it and would realize that you aren’t the only person in the band,” Jeremiah added.

Andrea gave Jeremiah an appraising look. “So, Jeremiah, I hear that there are a few new boys in the guard this year. But, I’m sure you’ve already scouted out the fresh meat, right?”

Jeremiah gave Andrea a confused look for a moment, then the realization flooded across his face. “Yeah, it helps being the captain of the guard. I tend to have to interact with the members. It’s a good thing they’re all okay with me being straight and all, though. That could have been a tough position for me, being in a leadership position and all.”

“Are you sure that’s how it goes, Miah, sweetie?” she asked, standing up and picking up her shopping bags. “I’ll be seeing you on Monday, lovelies. Ciao!” She turned on her heel and left, her cronies not far behind.

“That bitch used my nickname for you!” I exclaimed. “I do believe that’s grounds for me kicking her ass.”

“Oh, yeah, in Part 3, Section 4B of the Best Friend Act of 1804,” Jeremiah said. “It plainly states that anyone misusing nicknames gets an ass whooping.”

“Well, I better get on that then,” I shrugged, rolling up invisible sleeves on my arms.

“Why don’t we just get a smoothie instead?” Rachel suggested. “It seems like it would be a little less bloody.”

“I am wearing tie-dye, you know,” I pointed out. “You’d barely even see the blood stains.”

“The fact you have this thought out scares me a little bit,” Rachel replied, steering me towards the smoothie place. “I want a smoothie. If I don’t get one soon it’ll be your blood being camouflaged into your clothes, not Andrea’s.”

“The fact you have that all planned out scares me,” Jeremiah laughed.

“Scares you?” I asked. “It’d be my blood being shed.”

“Why do we talk about things like this?” Rachel asked, obviously noticing the stares we were getting from the random moms trying to do their shopping with kids and old people who just wanted a good cup of coffee.

“Because we’re effing awesome,” I shrugged.

“Duh,” Jeremiah agreed.