Drummer Girl (18 page)

“What do the police think will happen if I do that?”

“They don't get involved in civil suits. Privately they suggested to me that you think very carefully before you take that route. It would be as ugly as a regular trial. And they know you have to walk these halls so they want you to be comfortable with the outcome.”

“That band is the centre of cool here, Brock. Even the few days suspension the guys already took could mean I'll be facing a first-class miserable time.”

“I don't know, Sidney, but I don't think so. You didn't stick around to see how subdued the students were after the assembly. That's usually a sign that the message got through. I think you'll find more supporters in this school than you know.”

“So is the suspension they served all the punishment they're getting?”

“Apart from the apologies? Pretty much. Since hearing the inconclusive results of the police investigation, VP Finning has fixed on the idea of this being a band stunt and she's said that she'll request the band be barred from performing at any school function in the city for so long as they're students in the system. If she goes ahead with it we won't know that decision for a month or so. It would be made at board level.”

Sid gripped the desk and pushed so the chair swivelled. She stared out the window for a long time, her thoughts circling and circling.

Brock finally said, “I'm sorry you had to go through this, Sid. Do you want me to call your father in?”

“Not yet.” Sid eyed a bee bouncing against the outside of the window screen – she'd been just like that, trying and trying to get into a place she wouldn't have liked in the end.

“Do you want to tell me how you're feeling? Saying it out loud can sometimes help your thoughts come together.”

Sid considered that. “It's like I have three voices inside.”

“What are they saying?”

“Well... One is quivering in the corner, wishing all this would just go away.”

“That's pretty normal.”

Sid turned the chair back to face Brock. “You like that word way too much.” He smiled and shrugged. She gave him an exaggerated look of exasperation, then became serious. “One voice, the loudest, is saying I should let them all rot. Preferably in a cold dark cell full of rats. Not that that's a real option.”

He nodded slowly and spoke the same way. “I'm not surprised, given how angry you've sounded this morning. So are you considering a civil suit?”

“Maybe. But...” She closed her eyes and tapped a swing rhythm on her shin.

“But what, Sid?”

“I have this friend, an old jazz musician from way back. He lived in New Orleans decades ago, and gradually migrated north, bit by bit, until he opened his club downtown. He's been trying to teach me to feel the beat. Last time I jammed with him I flipped it and to cover kicked into a drum solo. He doesn't think much of hard rock. Said I need to do more than just feel the beat. I need to ‘control the flow so I don't start flailing like a chicken with its head chopped off'.”

“A direct quote?”

Sid heard the amusement and nodded. “The thing is, this third voice is kind of quiet, but it feels like the beat. Like it's in my bones. I haven't heard it much these past few days because the loud voice has been wailing so loud. But the quiet voice is drumming along like a soft jazz riff.”

“What does it say?”

Sid frowned. “What happens if I don't do the civil suit thing?”

Brock leaned forward. “There's still the board meeting. Those boys will be choked if their band is, ah, banned.” He gave Sid an apologetic shrug for the bad pun.

“Clem was behind all this.”

“Without proof...”

Sid sighed. “Right. And what about Wes? He was Clem's stooge. He was worse than me when it came to doing anything to get into the band.”

“Normally I can't discuss other students with you. I think I can tell you that Wes discovered, the hard way, that his mother was a dedicated feminist lawyer before she cut back her number of clients to raise children. She deals mostly with businesses these days, but interestingly, they're mostly women-owned and operated.”

Sid thought for a moment. “So he might be more than knee-deep in trouble at home?” No wonder he had looked so pathetic as he was leaving. Maybe she'd offer a truce so long as he treated her decently.

“Neck deep, at least. Believe me. I've already heard part of her, ah, re-education plan, which starts with not being allowed to join
tfd
.”

It seemed only right to Sid that
tfd
came out of this without a drummer. She unfolded her legs off the chair and leaned forward. “That quiet voice, it kind of thinks life will run smoother if I just go with the flow.”

“So you think it's fair that they get off free and clear? Rock basically assaulted you. Then what they did with that video...” Brock shook his head, as if to clear the images from his mind.

“Whose side are you on?”

“Yours.”

Sid suppressed a smile. “Oh. Well, since you're so into honesty and that kind of crap, you should know I feel like I walked into that video mess when I knew better.”

Brock raised his eyebrows and waited.

“I had a bad feeling about it as soon as I saw the guys were drinking – which was probably the quiet voice if I'd bothered to listen – but I still went up to Rock when he called me. I should've run right then. I didn't.”

“That didn't give any of them the right to do what they did. Not the unwanted kiss and not that nasty innuendo at the end of the video.” He lowered his voice. “Lack of evidence aside, sexual assault is very serious, Sid. You need to understand that that's what happened here.”

“Yeah. I get it, Brock. I do. But they're being punished. Sort of. And I'm thinking that a civil suit would mean I'd have to testify in court and put Dad through even more days like this one. How's his ulcer supposed to get better if I keep this up? He won't go to a doctor no matter how much I nag. And I think the biggest thing to come from a law
suit is that I'd become a target in school. Yeah, they were nasty, but I wasn't hurt, just humiliated. Believe me, it won't happen again.”

Brock smiled. “You've got a smart quiet voice there, Sid. I hope you keep listening to it. What's it saying about not joining the band?”

“There are other bands. Maybe I'll even start my own. If I ask Sam at Downtown Music, I know she'd ask around for me, maybe help me find some interested musicians.”

“That sounds like a good plan. But how's the loud voice feeling right now?”

“Madder than hell. Wants to go home and pound drums 'til they shatter.”

“Will you?”

“No. I'm going to go home and practise a little jazz, and maybe ‘Workin' Them Angels.' Something that makes me control the flow.”

“So you're done with heavy metal?”

“No way.” Sid grinned. “A girl's gotta let loose once in a while.”

29 |
crescendo

Sid and Brad stopped in the hallway outside the gymnasium. The decorations from the prom spilled out of the gym all the way to the main entrance, a jungle of huge potted plants interspersed with golden bouquets of helium-filled balloons nodding in time to the music. It almost didn't look like a school.

She reached up and adjusted Brad's new glasses. He'd surprised her with them tonight. They were rimless on the bottom
and didn't hide his toe-curling blue eyes. She almost wished he'd kept the old glasses. Almost. “Tell me again how we ended up here.”

He rolled those amazing blue eyes. “You just like hearing me admit what an idiot I was.” She nodded and he laughed. “After you explained things and left, I couldn't stop thinking about you. I realized that the jerk who'd told me those lies about you and Taylor was the same jerk who'd hurt you other ways. I didn't want him to win so that's when I showed up on your doorstep grovelling like the undeserving peasant I am.”

“Got to love a guy who knows his place.”

“Yeah, well, you'll never know how much it costs a guy to face a dad who'd caught him in an awkward position with his daughter.”

“Would a kiss make up for your humiliation?”

A throat cleared. They turned to face Mr. Brock. He was wearing a black tux and his glasses were nowhere to be seen. Sid whistled. “Brock! You look hot!”

“Yes, he does, doesn't he?” A woman snaked her arm through his and smiled at Sid, who felt heat stain her cheeks.

“Ah. Hi. You must be Mrs. Brock.”

Still smiling, the woman nodded. Brock said, “I just wanted to tell you how nice
you
look, Sidney. And to shamelessly seek an introduction. Your date doesn't look familiar.”

“Imported,” Sid said. “Brad, this is Brock. I've told you about him. Though I don't think I've ever mentioned that he's the coolest teacher in school.”

Brock raised his eyebrows. “Not a teacher, Sid.”

Sid copied his expression. “That could explain the cool part, Brock.”

He laughed, shook hands with Brad and led his wife into the darkened gym. Brad tugged on her arm and they followed. He whispered, “I'm glad you wore the blue dress again, Sid. You really do look great in it.”

“Thanks, but I'm done following Heather's fashion advice.”

“You're going back to baggy?”

“No, but from now on I'm going to listen to the quiet voice, even when it comes to fashion.”

He didn't ask for an explanation, just took her hand and led her onto the dance floor where they spent the next hour. A slow dance started. Brad gathered her into his arms and said, “About time.”

A moment later another couple interrupted. Narain and –
Sid blinked – Joanne. Narain asked if they could switch partners. Brad sighed but relented. Before they could react, Narain grabbed Brad and twirled him away. Joanne stepped close and assumed lead in a traditional waltz position.

Slightly stunned by the speed of it all, Sid let herself be swept away. After a moment she said, “This feels...really awkward.”

“It does,” Joanne replied. “But it seemed like the only way I could get your attention to ask you something.”

“Okay...” Sid trailed off, bemused. Joanne was a decent dancer but she could feel eyes following their progress and it was hard not to bolt.

Joanne said, “Is the boyfriend for real?”

Sid hesitated. They weren't officially a couple, but she knew Brad liked her as much as she liked him. “Yeah.
He's real.”

“Good.” Joanne seemed to be guiding them toward the edge of the dance floor. “I want you to know that I'm really sorry about what happened at that party. Wes's girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, told me you were interested. I thought she was a friend. I'd never have...”

“It's okay, Joanne. Everybody made their share of bad choices in that mess. Even me.” Sid caught a glimpse of Brad, standing beside Narain and scowling as he watched her. “But the boyfriend wasn't one of them. Could we...?”

Joanne released her. “The offer I made in the library to be friends? It still stands.”

“I think I'd like that.” Sid tilted her head. “You don't play an instrument, do you?”

Joanne heaved a long-suffering sigh. “My mom made me take piano lessons.”

“What level?”

“I have my Grade Eight.”

“That's decent. Ever considered joining a band?”

“You're in a band that needs a keyboard player?”

“I'm starting a band. All-girl, I hope. Show those guys how rock is meant to be played.”

Joanne smiled. “Sounds like it could be fun. I'll let you know.” She walked away.

Sid headed toward Narain. She gave him a soft punch in the stomach and he exaggerated doubling over. Then he straightened and said, “Are you coming with me when I visit Taylor tomorrow?”

“You know I am, jerk.” She gave him a smile and turned to Brad. “Could we get some fresh air?”

He nodded and took her hand. “Should I say you made a nice couple?”

“No.”

They slipped out a side door, past Mr. Franklin who was bobbing out of time to the music. He nodded and waved them through.

They walked far enough to get away from the light spilling out of the doorway.

“So what did she want?” Brad asked, his voice a little tight.

“To be my friend. And to know if you were real.”

“Huh?”

“You know, a real boyfriend.”

A smile entered his voice. “Am I?”

“I don't know. Kiss me and help me make up my mind.”

Long moments later, they came up for air. Sid laughed. “I think my knees are wobbly.”

“Let's sit.”

They ended up lying down, ear to ear, heads snugged against shoulders, staring up at the stars. “Wow,” Sid said, “They're just as bright as the night of the wedding.”

“Make a wish.”

“That only counts with the first star. This sky has more stars than my dress has polka dots.”

“Make a wish anyway.”

Sid's hand reached up to find Brad's waiting for her. She interwove her fingers with his, enjoying the warmth. She could almost hear a heartbeat. And she was sure she could feel the rhythm of the earth rising in a soft insistent pulse that thrummed in her bones. “I wish, hope, that you'll be better at remembering my birthday than my dad is.”

“When is it?”

“Ten days.”

“Crap. You need to give a guy more warning.”

She squeezed his hand. “What are you going to get me?”

“Oh sure, put me on the spot.”

Sid watched the stars and let the rhythm flow through her. She didn't really expect Brad to answer. She was just enjoying the moment.

After a long pause he said, “I'm going to use my little sister's tye-dying kit and make you a tye-dyed
t
-shirt. And then I'll use her fabric markers to plaster it with words.”

Sid shifted and raised up on her elbow so she was looking down into Brad's face. “Words? What kind of words?”

“Ones that tell what's special about you. A big one over your heart will read
Drummer Girl.
Smaller ones will say things like
Sister, Daughter, Friend, Carpenter,
maybe
Jazz Lover, Metalhead, Rocker Chick.
And in legal-sized print, on the bottom at the back, it will read...” He cleared his throat and licked his lips.
“Math Geek's Girlfriend?”

Sid's heart picked up the tempo, just a little. “Sounds cool. There's only one problem.”

“What's that.”

“That last one? Way too small. It needs to be in larger print and right in the middle of a blue splotch that matches the geek's eyes.”

“That can be arranged.”

“Good. Do it.”

He did.