Wow, I can’t believe another year has (almost) passed! It seems like just yesterday I was congratulating goldnote on her high school graduation, and now it’s time for me to wish the best to the members of the Class of 2008 – most especially Somewei and The Pterodactyl. I’m so proud!!

In case you missed it, there’s a new chapter of Art of Music up, and, in case you didn’t get your Rigby and Jude fix in this story, they make cameos in singin’s Flip Flop.

AN: I do own the characters…

Chapter 11: Atonal

“If I told you once, I told you twice,
You can see it in my eyes.
I'm all cried out,
With nothing to say.
You're everything I wanted to be,
If you could only see,
Your heart belongs to me.
I love you so much, I'm yearning for your touch.
Come and set me free,
Forever yours I'll be,
Baby won't you come and take this pain away.

Last night,
I couldn't even get an answer.
Tried to call,
But my pride wouldn't let me dial.
And I'm sitting here,
With this blank expression.”

- Last Night, Diddy

There was a good energy as I entered the band room on Friday afternoon. For once, I wasn’t the first person there, but that was mostly because I had forced myself to leave later so that I would avoid North. I know, not my proudest moment. However, I swear my heart actually yearned when I saw his motorcycle in the parking lot… Of course, my yearning quickly turned to something a lot less healthy as I looked and saw Elisabeth’s perfect little coupe parked next to it.

I shook my head to clear the image, and threw myself into greeting all my band members. In my past seasons, I usually just hung out with the Line in the percussion room and pretty much ignored everyone else. Now, I was like a member of student government or something, getting out and greeting my constituents. There were nerves, for sure, and I would be lying if I didn’t group myself in the nervous category, but overall, I think the nerves were outweighed by anticipation. Everyone was eager to see if we could bounce back from Tuesday’s terrible performance. After checking in with as many people as I could, I brought my band leadership together for a short pre-trip meeting in Mr. Jenkins’ office.

“Okay, I hope you’ve all been helping with uniform and instrument checks. We don’t want to get to HB and be missing a sousaphone or something.”

The group nodded, so I continued, “So guys, I think the usual thing is that during the third quarter we go over and make nice with the kids from the other band. Isn’t that how it goes?”

I got a lot of blank looks, mostly because, well, none of us really knew what we were doing – we were all brand new to our positions, and previously, it wouldn’t have really mattered. We probably would’ve just headed straight for the concession stand and loaded up on sugary treats. Tonight, I was determined that the change I wanted would start at the games. I wanted the rest of the band to see that we were taking things seriously, and if this was what serious band members did, then gosh darnit, we were going to do the same.

I closed my comments by saying, “Anyway, let’s be respectful and polite and see what they have to say. Maybe they’ll have some good advice for our band!”

These would be my famous last words.

What happened during the third quarter was nothing short of total and utter embarrassment.

Everything had been going well. We performed excellently. The crowd had really gotten into our show, and from that, the band members responded until we finished to a very loud round of applause. Now, for 100 people or so, I was really proud of where we had come from and what we had done. We marched off onto the track, so that we could see the home band’s performance. For the first time since Tuesday, I found myself actively seeking North out. His was the opinion I needed to hear, because I knew he wouldn’t lie to me. While I felt good about things, he would tell me if I had just imagined our great show.

While Harrison-Benavidez High, all two hundred or whatever of them got set, I asked, “How was it?”

“Rigby, we need to talk—”

“We can talk about that later, what I need to know is was it as good as I thought it was?”

Even though I was standing next to him, I risked a look to meet his face, and saw his insanely blue eyes twinkling back at me, “Yes, Rigby, it was good. You weren’t imagining things. But—”

“Thank you.”

That was all I needed to hear. Now, I could go with my head held high to our third quarter conversation. I wanted to move away from North, but it was like I had been snared in his devastating good looks tractor beam and found myself unable to walk away. Together, we watched Harrison-Benavidez perform in companionable silence. It was the kind of closeness that once upon a time I had felt with Everett. I wondered if North felt it to. Abruptly, I brought my deceitful thoughts back around and concentrated on the marching band in front of us. Interestingly, I saw a band that was definitely good, but not unbeatable. In fact, while I noticed the band, the thing that really struck me were the Drum Majors.

They weren’t really…together.

Well, two of them were in (mostly) perfect sync, and one of them appeared to be a beat or two behind. It wasn’t completely obvious, but to me, it really stuck out. The side of the band she was helping with was also a bit behind, which convinced me that I was hearing what I was seeing. Somehow this little moment made me feel better. It made me realize that everyone can have an off day. I wanted to ask North if he saw it to, but Elisabeth had already leeched herself onto his other side, and I didn’t want to get involved.

As their show came to a triumphant end, I quickly gathered up Emma, Adelaide, Everett, and Todd, and together we walked over to the home side of the field. Stepping into enemy territory, my Spidey senses started to tingle, and for some reason, at that exact moment, I realized how fiercely protective and proud of my band. I would do basically anything for them...

It wasn’t difficult to find the Harrison-Benavidez members – the large mass of polyester definitely stuck out. I had noted what the drum majors were wearing during their performance, and made my way through the maroon and white group to where I thought I glimpsed their leadership.

As we walked, I could tell that most of their band members were totally judgmental against out little party, which, after the week I had, I really did not need. Especially, given the fact that I knew we had done a good show. Sure, our previous reputation and our terrible performance on Tuesday weren’t helping our image, but whatever happened to band geek solidarity? Weren’t we all on the same team? Why weren’t people coming up and saying ‘good job’ or ‘way to improve’?

When we finally got through, I managed to make eye contact with one of the drum majors – the snarky auburn haired one – and then she did the unthinkable – she flat out ignored me. Like, pretended I wasn’t even there. It was so quick, I don’t think anyone noticed. If I had been a cartoon character, this would’ve been the point where steam would’ve been coming out of my ears. So, my group, outcasts in a sea of maroon were left just standing there. Then Everett put a hand on my shoulder, and shook his head slightly. It took a lot to get me mad, but this was ridiculous. No one was going to treat me and my band that way. I marched up and tapped one of the drum majors on the shoulder, “Excuse me?”

She turned around, saw who it was, and asked in an annoyed tone, “Yes?”

I immediately blurted out, “If you can’t get your little wonder trio together, how do you expect to get your band together?”

My voice was raised. I didn’t care. She looked shocked, which, to be sure, the rest of my little group did as well. I was even a bit unsure of where my rage had came from. When no one said anything, I continued, “We may not be as loud as you, or as big as you, but guess what we do have? Manners…and heart. So, you can take your crap conducting and formulaic show, and we’ll see you on the field in a few weeks!”

Oh snap.

When everyone failed to do anything, I literally snapped my fingers ala Ferris Bueller (and was pleased to see my leadership follow my lead) and got the hell out of there, but not before I already heard the whispers ripple through their band, “Did she just say what I think she said?”

Fabulous, this was to be my legacy – not of bringing back Parktown from the depths of the judges low scores, but instead, for being a genuine bully.

Back on our side of the field, I waited for the inevitable shame-fest that was coming, and when it didn’t, I was surprised. Maybe my little group was scared of me – not that I could blame them, I think maybe I was just a little bit scared of myself. More than anything, I wanted to march straight back to the buses and start working on a Universal Remote so I could start the week over again (and maybe just stay paused on Tuesday night forever), but I didn’t get that far. Instead, what happened was Everett marched me right over to the Line, and bragged (!) to them what had I done.

While I was surprised at the interaction – if yelling at a complete stranger was all it took to get Everett to talk to me again – I should’ve done this a long time ago! Out of nowhere, a big weight lifted from my shoulders and I interacted with my old section. I guess I had completely underrated normalcy. Settling in to relive my comments, I felt that this was how my senior year was supposed to be.

When the whistle blew to mark the end of the fourth quarter, the rumors ranged from I had actually nun chucked one of the drum majors (with what, I don’t know), to other possibilities of us being involved in some sort of Sharks vs. the Jets ala West Side Story (which, incidentally, was the show that HB performed). The true story was I had gone way outta line and there was no way to undo what I had so foolishly done. Everett’s acceptance of me notwithstanding, there were definitely more intelligent things I could’ve chosen.

I kept outside the buses long enough to see everyone loaded, and got on at the last minute taking a front seat, where I hoped I could ignore further comments and questions.

It turned out I was not to be so lucky.

“So, anything you want to talk about?” A cocky grinned North asked me, sliding in next to me and trapping me in the seat with him.

Maybe he hadn’t heard…

“Not particularly…” I said breezily.

“Nothing at all?”

The bus sputtered and pulled away from Harrison-Benavidez high school. I was glad that I was never going to see the place again, and hoped everyone could leave my comments and actions behind at the school like I planned on doing. Settling in to my seat, I decided there was no time like the present to actually commit to a conversation with North. If anything, it would help take my mind off of whatever imagined retribution the HB DM’s were going to come up with.

“I take it you heard about my ‘comments.’”

“Well, yes, but that’s not what I was referring to.”

“Oh…”

He looked around, but there was no one paying attention to us. The band was lost in all the things that happen on the way back from an Away game.

“About the other night,” he took a deep breath and continued, “I think there are a few things you should know about first…”

I was torn, I desperately wanted North to open up to me and to learn all about what the heck Elisabeth had been talking about, but I knew that once I invited him in on that level, then there wasn’t going to be any room left for the band.

It was with very great reluctance that I held up my hand to interrupt him and said, “Look, North, I think we should just leave things at that one night, and our relationship as it is – you’re the band’s instructor, and I’m their drum major. We’re not friends, or anything more.”

North was caught off guard. He asked, “Is that how you really feel?”

I looked away, unable to meet his stare, “It is.”

“Okay, Rigby. If that’s how you want it.”

I wasn’t surprised when he got up to leave the seat.

I sighed and slumped down. I had just blown my one and only chance to start anything. It was not how I wanted things at all. I wanted to tell him that riding on the back of the bike was one of the coolest things I had ever done in my eighteen years. I wanted to tell him that I had total respect for him for staying out of Elisabeth’s clutches. I wanted to tell him he was quite possibly one of the greatest people I had ever met. I wanted to tell him that wasn’t how I really felt at all…but I didn’t say anything.

AN: Reviews make this author happy!

The Ferris Bueller reference is when they are leaving the restaurant – all three main characters snap their fingers and leave…it’s classic.