Destiny By Backpack

“Jovie! Wait up!”

I was walking in the hallway at school, in a rush as usual, when I heard my friend Cassie calling me. I was taking a shortcut through the school on the way to my bus, my backpack slung over one shoulder.

I halfway turned, looking over my shoulder for Cassie. I caught a glimpse of her just as I walked into someone heading in the opposite direction.

We both crashed to the floor with a collective - oof! My backpack fell off my shoulder and hit the floor with a thump next to me and the guy I smacked into.

The other students walked around us, some snickering, but all of them had the typical “whatever” look on their face.

“Whoa, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you-” said the guy I crashed into, his stuff also on the floor.

“No, it’s my fault, I wasn’t paying attention,” I interrupted, scrambling to get up off the floor. I quick looked over at the guy I’d knocked into, to see if he needed any help, but he was already standing up, looking down as he brushed himself off.

It’s well known that the school hallways weren’t the cleanest places around, so I did the same, blushing because I’d just walked into a complete stranger and knocked him down.

I still hadn’t seen his face, and at the moment didn’t particularly want to, feeling foolish and embarrassed. All I knew was that he had dark hair, and that I’d - to the extent of my knowledge - never seen him before.

Students still milling about, I saw Cassie hurrying to catch up to me. I quickly snatched my red backpack off the floor and said - still not looking at his face - “I’m really sorry about crashing into you,” then side-stepped him back into the flow of traffic as he began to say, “Don’t worry about it-”

My pack slung over my shoulder once more, I left a stranger and a potentially awkward and/or embarrassing situation in my wake of clumsiness. I waited for Cassie around the next corner of the hallway - out of sight of the unfortunate unknown guy.

I was impatient - it was Friday, and I wanted to get home. My brother had my car, so that day I was bus-bound.

Stupid senior brother, I thought as I waited for Cass to catch up. Just because he’s one year older he thinks he can borrow my car whenever he wants . . . He wasn’t even going home, so I couldn’t catch a ride with him.

Cassie finally caught up with me, and we began to walk to the buses.

“I saw that,” she said with a grin.

“Hey, if you hadn’t called my name, I wouldn’t have gotten distracted!” I protested, but smiled.

“If I hadn’t distracted you, you never would have met him!”

I shot her a look. “Who’s ‘him’?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea. And considering how you fled the scene, you’ll never know.”

“Cass,” I said with a sigh. “He could have been a class A jerk for all I know.”

Cassie defended the guys, saying, “Or he could have been a really nice guy. I didn’t hear any harsh words, did I?”

Cassie had some weird goal of finding me a guy. I didn’t know why she bothered - I wasn’t looking for anyone, so I didn’t really care.

There wasn’t anything hideous about me - I was just . . . well, average. You know, brown eyes, brown hair, that whole bit. Cassie, on the other hand, was, . . . well, anything but average.

She had crazy curly red hair, the bluest eyes of anyone I’d ever seen, and was super friendly. She also had went through more boyfriends then I had years on this earth (I was seventeen). But she was certain that her current boyfriend - Doug - was the right guy, and so she wanted to find someone for me.

She dropped the subject as we walked among the buses.

“See ya Cass,” I said as we reached my bus.

“Bye Jovie,” she said as she waved and headed toward Doug’s car.

I got on the bus and sat down in an empty seat, putting my backpack beside me. As the bus began to drive away from the school, I started to pat down my pockets for my iPod. I then remembered that I had put it in my backpack. I unzipped the front part of my pack and dug around for it.

It was my “tradition” that every Friday I’d listen to “T. G. I. F.” by Lonestar. As I moved my hand around, I frowned.

That’s odd . . . It wasn’t there.

I opened the pocket wider. Yeah. It definitely wasn’t there.

That’s weird . . .

I opened the largest compartment.

Maybe I put it in here . . . I was in a rush this morning . . .

So I opened my backpack and pulled out a Spanish textbook. My brow furrowed.

I didn’t have Spanish homework tonight . . .

I looked at the outside of my backpack, confused. That was definitely my red and black L. L. Bean backpack.

Unless . . . uh-oh.

Reaching back into the backpack, I pulled out a French horn music book, and I knew the backpack wasn’t mine. It belonged to the guy I walked into - it had to be.

I opened up the front cover of the music book, and written there in permanent marker was “J.J..”

I sighed and put everything back, zipping the bag closed.

Who was J.J.? How was I going to find this guy?

When I got home, I said hi to my mom, ignored my brother (apparently he could have given me a ride home), and grabbed the phone, taking J.J.’s stuff with me. I dialed Cass’s number, hoping she wasn’t at Doug’s house.

“Hello?”

“Hey Cass, it’s me.”

“Jovie! Miss me already?” she teased.

I sighed. “Cass, I need to know who that guy is that I walked into.”

“Changed your mind about him?”

Even over the phone I could tell she was grinning.

“No Cass. As it turns out, I have his backpack and presumably he has mine.”

Cass chuckled. “Well, do you remember what he looks like?”

“Er,” I began intelligently. I hadn’t really looked at his face. “Dark hair.”

“That’s it?” she asked, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know! His name has a “J” in it. I think.”

Cassie burst out laughing.

When she finally stopped, I asked, “Fine. What’s so funny?”

“I know who the guy was and everything. But seriously. Did you even look at his face?”

“No . . .” I said uncomfortably. I was sitting on my bed, and my gaze flicked to his backpack. “I was embarrassed. If I had looked him in the face I would have been blushing redder than a tomato!”

“Never become a detective.”

I sighed again. Cass was my best friend, and I loved her like a sister, but sometimes she took to long to spill the info. Like right now.

“Cass, just please tell me who he is.”

“Ok, ok. Because you said please I will. You see, I got curious about who that guy was because he looked awfully familiar-”

“You probably dated him,” I stuck in.

“Ha, ha. No. But I described him to Doug, and he knew who he was.”

That made sense. This “J.J.” guy played an instrument, and Doug was in band (he played trumpet).

“So this guy’s name is John Jones, but everyone calls him J.J., and he plays French horn. Apparently he’s also first chair. Doug says that even though he’s talked to J.J. twice - when he handed him a folder, and then about a music stand - he’s a really nice guy.”

I digested all of that, thinking, Great, I have a band geek’s backpack. Then I asked, “So why was he familiar to you?”

“I saw him at one of Doug’s band concerts.”

“Oh. When do you think I’ll get to return his stuff?”

“On Monday. And hope he’s there.”

--

I arrived to school on Monday morning early, but irritated. My stupid brother Nathan kept trying to steal my car keys so he could drive, and I kept reminding him why he had no car at the moment, until we were wrestling for the keys in the living room.

Then Mom came in and yelled at us, saying that Dad needed his sleep - he worked late - which was pointless because her yelling wasn’t helping him sleep either, that’s for sure.

Mom however, did take my side so I got to drive (it was my car anyway).

I walked toward the main entrance to the school, my brother nudging me as he walked past. I smacked him in the back of the head and scowled. I was in no mood for my brother’s antics - in addition to him being such a pain in the butt this morning, I hadn’t slept all that well last night, for some reason fretting over the Backpack Predicament.

J.J.’s backpack was slung over my shoulder, and I headed toward the main doors, my gaze on the ground. Fascinating dirt this time of year, you know.

“Hey,” someone said. I looked toward the direction the guy’s voice came from, my gaze still ground-ward. My eyes fell on a backpack that was the twin of the one I was carrying. The - most likely my - backpack was sitting near some guy’s - J.J.’s I would guess - feet.

Having made sure someone actually was talking to me and I wasn’t going nuts, I looked up at the guy’s face.

His dark hair was sort of long-ish, and he wore a pair of cool-looking sunglasses. When he saw me looking at him, he gave me a friendly smile then picked up my bag, and walked toward me.

Ok, I had to eat my words. I didn’t say them out loud, but I’d thought that J.J. would be kind of band-geeky. But that was wrong of me and completely superficial and stuff, so I apologize.

There is nothing wrong with band.

And J.J. was not band-geeky in the slightest.

“Er, hi,” I said as he came up to me. “You’re John Jones, . . . right?”

He nodded, taking off his sunglasses. “J.J.. But yeah. That’s me. And you’re Jovie . . .?”

I looked up into brown eyes the same color as mine and didn’t immediately grasp what he was saying.

“Oh,” I said, after a second, blushing as he smiled. “Er, Turner. Jovie Turner.”

For a second I wondered how he knew my name, but then I remembered that obviously my name would be on some of my stuff in my bag.

“Sorry about knocking into you the other day. I was in a hurry,” I apologized.

“It’s fine. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

“I guess it’s mutual,” I said, giving him a smile of my own.

So we exchanged backpacks, each of us about to turn and go our separate ways when he said, “Oh, I almost forgot - Jovie, wait!”

I turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

He closed the distance between us and took something out of his pocket.

He placed it in my hand as he said, “It was in the side pocket of your backpack, and I found it when I was trying to figure out who’s pack it was.”

He’d given me my iPod back.

“Thanks. I would’ve missed it.”

“Yeah. I hope you don’t mind, but I charged it for you - it was almost dead.”

“No, I don’t mind - thanks again, actually.”

He grinned, then together we walked into school.

“So Jovie, what kind of music do you like?”

“Brooks and Dunn, or Montgomery Gentry?” J.J. asked as we sat down at the lunch table.

“Hmm . . . tough call,” I said, opening my lunch box.

We’d talked that morning until the bell rang, united by our fondness for music.

Country music.

I’d been surprised that he liked country - it didn’t seem like many people like country. But come on. Only the old twang-y stuff was bad. However, our mutual like of country music opened the doors to conversation.

Even though I had never met him before, it turned out that J.J. was in the same grade as me, Cass, and Doug - and had lunch with me. Unexpectedly enough, J.J. and I got along surprisingly well, and were continuing our earlier discussion on which country music stars we preferred.

J.J. grinned as I tried to decide.

As he took out his sandwich, I thought aloud. “Well, Brooks and Dunn are pretty versatile, and can pair up with nearly everyone, even Keith Urban. Have you heard that song?”

He nodded, smiling. “Raise the Barn.”

“Yep. Now Montgomery Gentry, they have a little it of a rocker - edge . . .”

We each ate some of our lunch, and I finally declared - “Ok, it’s a draw.”

He smiled at me, and then we were joined by Cass and Doug.

I gave them a nod as they sat down, but other than that didn’t say anything.

“Carrie Underwood, or Taylor Swift?” I asked with an evil grin.

He sighed, acting wounded. “You got me. That has got to be the hardest question you could come up with.”

I laughed, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Cass and Doug exchange glances. But I didn’t care. I liked J.J.. And he wasn’t a class A jerk.

--

It was a few weeks later, and J.J. appeared at my locker.

We’d become good friends since the Backpack Incident, and I smiled when I saw him.

“Hey J.J.,” I said, shutting my locker.

“Hey Jovie. Guess what?” he seemed pretty excited.

“What?” I asked. “I got tickets to a certain show from my dad. You know how he works with a booking agency for concerts and stuff?”

I nodded, intrigued.

“Well, he got me tickets to go see Montgomery Gentry.”

My mouth dropped open. “That’s awesome!”

He grinned. “And if you’re available next week, I’m planning on taking you.”

“That rocks!” I exclaimed, ecstatic. I hugged him saying, “Thanks, J.J. You rule!”

He returned the hug with a laugh, saying, “No problem.”

This was going to be so cool - J.J. was so awesome!

--

“That was so cool - thanks for inviting me,” I said enthusiastically as we walked outside after the concert, in the middle of a giant mass of people.

He smiled. “It was fun Jove. I’m glad you could come.”

“Me too,” I said, returning his smile.

The concert had been rockin’, Montgomery Gentry singing some of their most well-known songs, me and the other thousand attendees singing along.

As we walked through - ok, fought our way through the crowd to J.J.’s car, a group of people pushed between us and we were separated.

I looked around for him but couldn’t see him, even though I knew he was taller than most of the people milling about. But I didn’t want to start yelling for him, and wasn’t that worried - I’d just stay put. I looked around as people shoved past me.

Still no J.J. . . .

As I turned, I accidentally caught the eye of a guy around my age. He was standing with a few other guys, and when he saw me, a look of interest crept over his face.

I hurriedly looked past them, hoping they’d forget about me, or that the guy wasn’t looking at me at all.

I walked forward a little way, to put more distance between me and those guys.

However, on my next rotation just as I caught a glimpse of someone tall, with dark hair, my gaze inadvertently fell on the group of guys from before. They were all staring at me.

I jumped and quickly turned when I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder.

“J.J.!” I gasped, my heart beating wildly.

A sheepish look came over his face, and he said, “Sorry to scare you - but I couldn’t find you. I didn’t want to lose you and have your dad shoot me or something.”

I smiled up at him. “It’s ok.”

I snuck a peek at those guys, and I could see scowls on some of their faces.

J.J. took my hand, and as if it was the most natural thing in the world for me to do, I leaned up and kissed his cheek.

He smiled at me, then said, “Come on Jove. Let’s go home.”

For some reason I was insanely happy, all thoughts of those weirdos looking at me fleeing my mind.

He squeezed my hand, and we walked to the car.

“Thanks for taking me home. And thanks for inviting me in the first place, and for . . . well, pretty much everything,” I concluded lamely.

He smiled, his brown gaze locked with mine.

My heartbeat was beating irrationally fast as I looked into his eyes.

This was not a date, I kept telling myself. Somehow on the ride home, I got the word “date” stuck in my head.

But it wasn’t a date.

Then why did it feel like I was missing something important? Something that was happening right at that moment?

We were sitting in his car, having just arrived at my house. My family had generously (a little sarcasm for ya) left the front porch light on for me, the rest of the house dark.

Which naturally meant they were all eager to pounce on me. Jeez. It wasn’t a date.

“Jove-” he began hesitantly.

He’d taken to calling me “Jove”, a shortening of my name and a nickname he created for me.

“Yeah J.J.?”

He dropped his gaze, then looked back at me. He seemed torn - and I wondered what was going on behind his eyes.

“Just . . . well . . . Jove-” he began again, and I unconsciously leaned toward him.

“It’s just-”

I was very intrigued by this point. “Yes?”

He took a deep breath, then looked me straight in the eye. With new resolve, he pulled me to him and kissed me.

And I loved it - he was just what I wanted - I knew that now.

So I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

--

“Sorry Jove - I gotta go,” J.J. said apologetically.

It was a week or so after the concert, and J.J. and I were officially “together”. We were in each other’s company as much as possible, and we’d go over to each others houses and do homework after school.

We were currently at my house, sitting in the living room. We had finished our homework and were just hanging out. My annoying brother kept poking his head in the living room where we were, enough times so that the last time he looked I threw a pillow at his head.

It hit him, but I was a little miffed - my parents obviously told him to check up on me.

Constantly.

“It’s ok J.J.,” I said, getting up as he grabbed his backpack.

“I’m really sorry - I have a French horn lesson tonight - I almost forgot all about it. I guess I can’t stay for dinner today,” he apologized again.

“It’s fine. Next time.”

I followed him out onto the front porch. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, then leaned down and gave me a kiss.

“Bye Jove.”

“See you tomorrow J.J.,” I said.

He was about to walk down the front steps to his car, but turned and asked me with a teasing grin, “How ‘bout one for the road?”

I playfully rolled my eyes at him, and then we shared another perfect kiss. I waved as he began to drive away, then went back inside, returning to the living room.

I noticed my backpack was half open, so I began to walk over to it.

Just as I went to do that, I heard gravel crunching in the driveway, a sign that someone was here. That was odd - J.J. just left, and we weren’t expecting anyone.

I wondered who it was, then grinned when I reached the backpack.

Because halfway sticking out of the bag was a French horn music book.