Falling (Bits and Pieces, Book 1) (21 page)

“What? I said you didn’t have to talk. I didn’t say I wouldn’t.” He acted innocent, but he knew what he was doing. He was trying to give me something else to think about, to distract me.

“Thanks for the reminder.” I did remember he had a game. Actually, I was looking forward to it. I knew it would help me escape for a little while. And maybe that would knock me out of my downward spiral.

I didn’t want to slide anymore. I knew Patrick couldn’t help with my mom. But his words echoed in my head ‘Remember, you’re not alone.’ I wasn’t. I took a deep breath and sighed. That caught his attention because out of the corner of my eye, I could see him turn to look at me.

I started picking at the grass underneath me. “My folks found out about the solo. We ran into Mrs. Marshall at the store. She told my mom.”

He put his hand on my back. “What did she say?”

“Mrs. Marshall? Something like… ‘You should be proud…’” I whispered.

“Well, that’s good. Right? What did your mom say?”

“Huh. She ripped me a new one.” I stopped picking at the grass. I turned to look at him and shrugged. “So, that’s it. That’s what’s been bugging me.”

“I’m sorry.”

I simply shrugged my shoulders again. There wasn’t anything else I could say or do. We just sat there until the bell rang.

I was able to focus a little better in math. Or at least, I welcomed the idea of something that would require my concentration. Math usually was a good distraction.

When the bell rang, Patrick felt the need to remind me again about his game this afternoon. It brought back memories of the first game I went to and his frequent, gentle pestering of me to go attend the game.

History class wasn’t nearly as concentration consuming as math. It always passed much more slowly to me. It wasn’t because it was my last class of the day, I know it would feel the same no matter what period it was. History just wasn’t my subject. I got good grades, it just wasn’t interesting to me. I was able to take notes, listen to the lecture, dwell on last night and clock watch all at the same time.

There was only five minutes left before the school day was officially over when Mrs. Marshall walked in. What the heck would she be doing in here? She walked over to Mr. Galang and quietly spoke to him. He nodded and pointed at me. Great, and here I thought I had successfully avoided her. I should have known better.

She motioned me to come with her. I picked up my stuff and followed her out the door.

“Sorry to bother you in Mr. Galang’s class. You left so quickly from class today.” We walked to her room.

“That’s okay.” I wanted to try to shift the topic. I didn’t want her to ask why I left so suddenly and pretended not to hear her. “So, is sixth period your prep?”

“Yes, it is. It gives me a chance to get the auditorium ready for concerts or rehearsal, if needed. So, I like it. It’s perfect for me.”

“That’s good. I guess, you wouldn’t be one of those teachers that would leave early just ‘cause you didn’t have a last class.”

“Nope. They don’t have to worry about that from me.” She laughed.

We got to her classroom and she unlocked the door. She went to her desk and handed me sheet music.

“This is what I wanted to give you earlier. Take a look at it. I’d like to include this piece in the concert.” She told me. I guess she didn’t want to talk about last night. Good.

I looked over the music. I knew the song and had even thought about using it for my audition piece. Well, it was one of my backup songs, but I hadn’t sung it in a while.

“I’ve been wanting to include the song in a concert for a while, but was waiting for a student whose voice could handle it. I think you can.” She gave me such a nice compliment, but I didn’t know how to respond.

“Thanks. That’s a nice thought, but I don’t know…” Part of me was still torn about what to do – would I quit the solo or ignore my parents and do it anyway? Agreeing to do the song would mean I wasn’t giving it up.

“Why don’t you just try it? See how it feels.” She suggested and started to play the song on the piano.

The music filled the empty choir room. It was like it echoed off the walls, making it sound like a concert hall. I followed along with the sheet music and started singing. It didn’t feel good.

At the end of the song, she asked, “Are you okay? It’s like something is holding you back. Do you know the song?”

“Yeah, I know it.” Please don’t ask what is holding me back.

“So don’t read the words. Just feel them and sing. I know you can do it. You did it at the audition, and every day in class. That was one of the things that set you apart from the others.”

That was nice to know. It wasn’t just dumb luck that I got the part.

“It was nice to see your mom again last night.” She politely commented. “She didn’t know about you getting the solo, did she?”

I felt like a little kid getting caught stealing a cookie. I stared at the floor and my voice was suddenly a whisper, “No. She didn’t.”

“Why not? You’re great.” Her smile was warm.

I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s not really something they’re into.”

“Your mom seemed excited to tell your dad.” She had no idea what I was going through. My mom was good at not letting strangers know what she was really thinking, when she wanted to.

“Yeah, we rushed right home and she told him.” I stated devoid of emotion. I felt myself disconnecting from everything again to survive. I think from that she started to get the idea that she stirred up trouble for me. I turned around and was about to walk away.

“Liz, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” She got up from the piano and walked up to me. “I can see how much you enjoy singing. How about this… Forget about today, yesterday, last week. Just focus on the song, just sing. Do you want to try it again?”

I nodded and we walked back to the piano. I tried to clear my mind of everything else. I didn’t want to let her or the choir down. She had faith in me and I didn’t want to lose that. I had already made a commitment and decided I had to stick to it. No matter what.

I tried the song again. This time I didn’t look at the sheet music. I closed my eyes and pretended I was home, in my room trying to escape the world through singing. When it was over, I opened my eyes and looked at Mrs. Marshall.

“Much better. Much, much better.” She smiled. “What do you think? Do you want to do the song? I think it would showcase your voice beautifully.”

“Sure.” It felt good to make a decision and to know that at least one adult thought it was a good one.

She had me practice a few more times, each time giving something else to think about. It was nice to get feedback that wasn’t in front of others. It made me feel less insecure about it all.

Before I knew it, an hour had passed. I looked at the clock and realized that I was missing the game. “Thank you, Mrs. Marshall, for the song and the help. But, I’m supposed to be somewhere right now. I’ll practice the song.”

I ran over to the gym as fast as I could. Patrick was probably thinking that I forgot or worse. I never wanted him to feel bad and even if he just thought I forgot, I’d feel horrible. It wasn’t that I forgot
exactly
. I just kind of got side-tracked by a teacher. I’d definitely need to talk to him after the game and apologize.

When I entered the gym, it was its usual warm and humid self. What was unusual was that Patrick wasn’t on the floor. He was sitting on the bench and he didn’t look good. His head was down and he had a towel over his head. His hands were balled up in fists.

I quickly made my way to Emily and Cassie and sat down. “Sorry I’m late. What’s going on?”

Emily filled me in. “Hey, Liz. Patrick’s having a bad game. He’s missed some easy shots, made some bad passes. Coach pulled him out after the first quarter.”

Cassie added, “Yeah. It’s like his head isn’t in the game.”

Emily leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I think he was worried about you. He kept looking at us, expecting you to be here.”

I felt horrible. “Aww, man. I didn’t mean to drag him down with me. How the heck do I let him know I’m okay without the coach knowing? I don’t want him to get in any more trouble. But he needs to stop worrying.”

Emily smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get the message to him.”

Somehow, that made me worry a little.

She glanced at me and saw my anxiety. “Look, I know you were having a bad day. And I couldn’t do anything to help you. Only Patrick could. It’s okay. I totally understand. But this… I can help with. So let me. Besides, it’s no big deal. Only Bobby will know.”

The game played on. Apparently, I needed to work on my powers of mental telepathy because Patrick never took the towel off his head or looked in our direction. Bobby jumped up and grabbed a defensive rebound.

When he came down with the ball, Emily screamed, “Blueberry sprinkle toes!”

What the heck?!

Bobby passed the ball to Jason, who dribbled up the court. Bobby quickly glanced at Emily and shot her a smile. She hugged me and he nodded. He ran down the court while Jason called a play. It didn’t look like they were getting the look at the basket that they wanted because the coach was screaming for a time-out. The whistle blew to acknowledge the time-out.

I watched the team walk from the court to the bench. Patrick got up from the bench and stood in his usual spot in the huddle, next to Bobby. He pulled his right foot behind him and stretched his leg. He quickly did the same with his left side. He then grabbed the towel on his head and draped it around his neck. He gripped the towel with both hands. It was like he had a nervous energy consuming him. Bobby elbowed him in the side and nodded his head in our direction.

Patrick looked over and saw Emily hugging me. I waved, sheepishly smiled and mouthed, “Hi.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. He turned his attention back to the huddle.

“Message delivered.” Emily nudged me in the side.

“Thanks.” I gave her a little hug. Leave it to Emily to deliver messages in the weirdest way.

“Anytime.” She grinned.

As the team returned to the court, Patrick said something to the coach. He sat back down on the bench and watched the game intently. A few minutes later, at the next dead ball, Coach put Patrick back in the game. He seemed to have his head back in the game, because he was playing like the Patrick I knew.

As usual, we waited for the guys to change before heading to the parking lot. We walked to our cars together. We got to my car first. The others went ahead to Bobby and Jason’s car, while Patrick hung back with me at mine.

“I’m so sorry I was late. I didn’t mean to be.” I was repentant.

“It’s okay. I’m just really glad that you’re okay.” He sighed with relief. “But, what happened?”

“I…” I was unexpectedly interrupted.

“Hi, Paddy!” Becca wrapped her arms around his neck and her mouth was suctioned onto his.

After five long uncomfortable seconds, I cleared my throat. “Hi, Becca.”

She turned, saw me and smiled. “Oh, Liz, sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

Yeah, right. I’m only standing right in front of Patrick.

“Becks, we were talking.”

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt. Go ahead and finish.” She turned to face me, stood right in front of Patrick and leaned back into him.

I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. There was no way I was telling Patrick what happened with her there, she’d probably go off on me again. I bit the inside of my cheek.