Blessed Tragedy(12)

“Dude, you were in f*cking orchestra?” Colton joked. Little did he know that Travis's admission to being in the school orchestra meant Colton was the only one of us without any classical music training.

I backhanded Colton as I stood to reveal my own secret. Placing the violin case on the pool table, I looked over at him. “What's wrong with being in orchestra? Just because you're an uncultured buffoon doesn't mean the rest of us are.” I flailed my bow in his direction. I winked at him to make sure he knew I was giving him a hard time and not being serious.

The look on their faces was well worth it. It was like Mom was up there pulling strings to make everything go a certain way, including me shocking the hell out of my band mates. “What? Never seen a violin before?”

Travis shook his head. “Okay, so you're a violin playing cheerleader who somehow turned into this badass tattooed and pierced rock goddess? What the f*ck else are you hiding from us?”

Jon and Colton laughed. I narrowed my eyes. “If you value your damn kneecaps, that'll be enough to keep you from hunting for anything else. And you won't mention this again once we leave tomorrow night.”

Jon stepped in between me and Travis before I could say anything else. I wasn't seriously pissed off yet but Jon knew me well enough to know it wouldn't take much on a day like today. “Hey, you know anyone up at the school?” He asked, effectively changing the subject.

“Um, Mike's a teacher up there, why?”

“I was thinking that with you having that violin, Travis and Colt on guitar, it'd sound just about perfect if we can track down bongos. Think he could get us a set?” It amazed me how quickly the gears started grinding in Jon's head. He probably already had the full arrangement figured out, just waiting for us to quit bickering so we could get to work.

“Yeah, I'll run up and ask him. You guys start working out the harmonies.”

Mike couldn't grab his keys fast enough when I told him what was going on. He agreed with me that there wasn't a better song we could play. “Hey, you wanna come? Pretty sure we could make a couple of boys cry if you walk into the school.”

It was a bizarre statement from my typically reserved brother. “Um, sure?”

“Oh, come on. You have to know what you do to hormonal boys with those short skirts you wear. Plus, you're probably the only famous person to ever come out of this town. It'll be good.”

My brother, the same one who had spent five years avoiding the subject of my chosen career was now asking me to go to his workplace, a school filled with impressionable teens, to “make boys cry.” That's when I started feeling like I had no clue who these people were and what they'd done with my family.

“Yeah, sure. Let me tell the guys.” I ran back down to the basement to let them know where I was going. I let Colton know where my laptop was so they could print off some music while I was gone and ran back up the stairs. The nice thing about living on a tour bus? No stairs. I would not miss these flippin' stairs.

“Ready?” Mike asked, opening the door and ushering me through.

The next hour was spent at Lexington High School. It was amusing to watch people do a double-take as we walked through the halls together. If I didn't know better, I would have thought Mike timed it so we'd walk through the front door just as the bell rang between classes. Judging by the look on his face, either he was finally proud to be seen with me or he was absorbing as many cool teacher points as he could rack up. I was okay with either.

As anticipated, more than a few students had a hard time concentrating while I was there. It was strange because I didn't feel like I was coming across as Rain, I was just Madeline Neumann, in town for her mother's funeral. It's something that's hard for people to understand but I really feel like two completely different people sometimes and Maddie is no big deal. Honestly, I wished everyone else could understand that. It would make things less awkward. I have no problem with my status when I'm scheduled to be in the public eye but other than that, it's always been something I've struggled with.

“Mr. Neumann, how in the hell--” One of the football players all but ran down the hall to talk to Mike.

“Joshua, you will watch your language.” I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing at the authoritative tone in Mike's voice. He asked for this, not me. He's the one who wanted me to come down here; he couldn't exactly be upset with the boy for forgetting his manners.

“I'm sorry, sir. Is that Rain Maxwell?” He asked my brother, barely able to look in my direction. It was cute, kind of made me want to scruff his hair a little bit.

“Yes, but don't go telling everyone. We're just here to pick up something quick and then we have to get back home.” Did he ask me to come with him just so he could torture these poor kids? Mike grabbed my arm and hustled me towards the band room.

“Wait, you know Rain Maxwell?” The kid's eyes were about to bulge out of his boyishly handsome face. “I'm surprised you even know who she is, but damn, Mr. Neumann, you actually know her?”

This was the good thing, in my mind, about being so private. We were still a new enough band on the national scene that no one had dug deep enough in my life to figure out where I was from. After Mike's little stunt I was pretty sure that piece of my anonymity was gone.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Mike laughed. “She's my little sister.”

“No fu--”

“Joshua!” Mike barked. I was beginning to think it would be impossible for me to get out of the school without a bloody lip from biting it to stifle my laughter.

“It was, uh, it was nice to meet you, Rain.” The kid stuttered. “Sorry 'bout your mom. That's a crap deal.”

We walked into the nearly empty band room and I about fell over when I saw Garrett Dietrich sitting in the director's office sorting sheet music. He certainly had grown up in the few years since we graduated. As Mike talked to him, I started praying he wasn't the type to hold a grudge; if he was, I'd have to explain why we were bongo-less.

Mike came out of the office, walked to the practice rooms and returned with one set of bongos. “He said it's fine. Then he asked if you'd consider stopping by with the guys during eighth period band. Thinks it'd be good for the kids to see what can happen if they pay attention and put in the hard work.”

The thought of being put on display in front of students sitting in the same seats I once occupied was disconcerting. With everything I'd learned about how wrong I was about my family's opinion of me, I felt like the antithesis of a good role model. I'd shit on every one of them while trying to prove I wasn't a princess. But Garrett's dad, the former band director, was monumental in my own life so I felt like I owed it to him.

“I'll have to see how things are going at home, but we might be able to do that. You think we could sneak in through the gym? I really don't need to walk through hormone hell again today.”

If I still had a place with Blessed Tragedy by the time this ordeal was over, it would be a miracle. First, I turned our hard rock band into a funeral entertainment act and now I was going to go home and tell them we were coming back to talk to the high school band. We'd done things like that before but it was always a paid gig arranged by our manager.



“I come bearing bongos,” I called down the stairs when we got home. The guys broke out in what could only be described as a fit of giggles at the statement. When you spend as much time around them as I do, it's easy to forget that even they can turn into immature little boys sometimes.

“Look, she brought the drums too!” Jon laughed hysterically. He stopped immediately when the bongos hit him hard in the chest.

“There are your damn bongos.” I hopped onto the pool table and started fidgeting with my hair. I didn't do it often but when I did, it was a sure sign I was up to no good. “So, uh, how much do you guys love me?”

Travis laughed. “Well, Jon and I like you an awful lot, but I think Colton's the only one here that loves you.” My eyes shot up at Travis and then over to a blushing Colton. Shit. This is not the way anything is supposed to go.

“Anyway...what's up?” Colton glared at Travis as if he'd just shared some major secret.

“So...uh...we need to get through this and get changed. Mike might have told the band director we'd go up there for eighth period.”

“Okay, sounds cool to me.” Jon said, not lifting his eyes from the sheet music in front of him. If Jon said it was cool, it was cool and not open for discussion. I'm not sure why I doubted these guys. Even if they weren't willing to do just about anything I asked while we were here, they did have a soft spot for encouraging kids and the arts.

The four of sat on the sectional huddled around the papers Jon had printed out and made notes on. With such an iconic piece of music, it wasn't hard to pick up on what we needed to do to make it come together. By one-thirty, we were confident that it would be passable with one more practice tonight.