Chapter 1
On August 27, Adam Madison learned that freshman year was terrifying. To him, the school quickly gave the impression that it had no room for slightly-chubby, brace-faced, freckle-spotted, blond band kids. He had already attended band camp to prepare for the upcoming marching season, yet his first-period gym class proved that participating in marching band did not make him an athlete.
The purpose of the first day of gym class was to make sure every student fit in a uniform: a white tee with the school logo printed large enough to nearly cover the front, navy blue shorts that the tee had to be tucked into for the sake of decency, and God-damn-don’t-forget-a-pair-of-sneakers. Adam made sure to receive his uniform first, and dashed to the locker room to change in a toilet stall. He was almost disappointed in himself for shying away from the confident composure he usually possessed, yet he decided that the first day was not the day to be courageous. Through the door he could hear some more guys choosing lockers and attaching padlocks to them, then a long pause before an awkward ruffle of clothes from around the room. Slowly, more guys with more volume began to enter the locker room, until Adam could barely hear himself think. Amongst the noises he could hear numerous immature laughs and phrases such as fuck it, I’m stripping and what are you, gay? He quickly changed into the uniform to make sure it wasn’t loose or tight, then changed back. With great caution and suspicion, he exited the stall and began to search the room for a locker that was not only unclaimed, but the farthest possible from anyone else’s. Once he found an adequately located locker (in the corner of the room, on the top row to prevent the need to bend down) he shoved his uniform in it and searched his pockets for the combination lock he meant to bring, yet quickly realized he forgot.
“Dude, where did you go?” A voice sounded behind him, making him jump. It was his best friend, Nate Sawyer. He was one of the few freshmen Adam had to look up to, as Nate stood two inches taller than he, while most other freshmen still looked like sixth graders. A fair amount of the young women were interested in Nate, only because he looked like a sophomore or junior. To Adam’s dismay, the two couldn’t look any more different. It was clear that Nate had tanned over the summer, and his fawn-brown hair was styled considerably better than it had been in middle school. Adam prayed that Nate’s one flaw would stick around for awhile: his braces, along with their gross blue rubber bands that matched Adam’s.
“I was changing,” Adam said, shutting his locker.
Nate’s eyes glanced toward the bathroom. “In the toilets?”
“Maybe.”
“C’mon, Adam. We’re in high school now. You gotta be confident; put yourself out there.” Nate grinned and play-flirtatiously winked, then removed his shirt and whirled it in the air. Adam snickered and rolled his eyes.
“At some point.”
“You gotta…” Nate opened the locker next to Adam’s and threw his shirt into it. “Stick it to the upperclassmen. Show them that you’re a badass freshie.”
“You do realize there aren’t any upperclassmen in gym, right? It’s a ninth grade requirement.”
“What?” Nate looked around frustratedly. “Huge disappointment. You’re sure that guy over there…”
“Yeah, I remember him from seventh grade math. He’s just an early bloomer.”
“Wow, that’s so not fair. I wish I was an early bloomer.” Nate removed his jeans and stuffed them into his locker. Adam watched him dress into the uniform with irritation. He wanted to say: dammit, Nate, you are an early bloomer! Don’t you see me? I look like an adult-sized child! He bit his tongue and waited for Nate to finish observing himself in the wall mirror next to their lockers. As Nate twisted and turned as if he was modeling, Adam wished that it was a girl that he was observing; more specifically, one that he loved, so he could come up behind her and throw his arms around her and steal a kiss. It wasn’t a highly prevalent dream of his, but one he certainly began having with a meager hope that he could escape from the disappointing females in his class and perhaps catch an older girl. The odds were slim, though; the band nerds never seemed to be desired.
“Looks delicioso,” Nate said, turning back to Adam. He changed out of the uniform and back into his blandly-colored daily outfit.
“Me gusta. Do we just go back to the gym?”
Nate rolled his eyes back pensively. “I know there’s something else we’re doing, but I can’t remember what.” Adam stared at him, waiting for an answer. Nate grinned and tapped his forehead. “We’re selecting seats.”
“In the gym? What for?”
“For attendance. Coach Bentley wants to keep us organized.”
“I thought it was Coach Bailey.”
Nate raised his eyebrows. “Pretty sure he said Bentley.”
“His accent is too thick to tell,” Adam sighed. “We’re gonna have to just guess.”
The two left the locker room and wandered across the hall and back into the gym. They spotted their dark-bearded, intimidating-looking coach from across the room, and Nate offered to get his attention, meanwhile butchering his name.
“Hey, Coach Baenly…” Nate mumbled, feigning a weak Southern accent. The coach turned around and smiled.
“Y’all’re done? Remind me of y’r names,” he said, looking at the clipboard in his hands.
“Nathan Sawyer,” Nate said.
“Franklin Madison,” Adam said. “I go by my middle name, Adam.”
Coach nodded and checked them both on his attendance sheet. “Go on ’n find a seat in rows A through F on this side of the gym,” he said, motioning towards the far left side of the seats.
The boys nodded and scanned the seats. “Row B is good,” Nate said, “because it’s in the front, but you still won’t get caught on your phone.”
“Sounds alright.” Adam entered the row and sat in chair B4, and Nate sat next to him in B5. They both checked their phones, and Nate’s screen was a whole collage of notifications and messages. Adam’s was a fine picture of his lock screen: Pamlico Sound at sundown, from a beach on Ocracoke Island.
Adam peeked at Nate’s phone. “Who texted you?”
“Claire. She wants to know if we have band next period.” Claire used to be the talk of the school, back in middle school. She was generally considered the prettiest that the eighth grade had to offer, and, though Adam didn’t quite see the charm, he expressed pride in being her acquaintance. Nate, on the other hand, did see the charm once upon a time, and “dated” her for a grueling six days.
“Yeah, duh. Symphonic Band is second only.”
“I guess she didn’t know if we got admitted into Symphonic Band or not,” Nate said. “It should be obvious, though. We’re the best the freshman class has to offer, right, Adam?”
“I sure do believe I am; not so sure about you,” Adam said, and he received a punch on the arm. Coach glanced up at Nate, raising his eyebrows, and Nate saluted apologetically.
“I beat out every other freshman clarinet besides you. So, if nothing else, I claim second-best,” he said
“Cute,” Adam said. “What girl doesn’t want a man who is second-best?”
“I don’t need girls. They can’t satisfy my hunger for someone better than me.”
“Would men do the trick, is that what you’re saying?”
Nate side-eyed him. “You know what I meant.”
“I really don’t. Women are amazing beings, as are men who like women and men who like men.” Adam grinned playfully.
“And you know I’m a man who likes women,” Nate said. “I said I don’t need girls. I need a mature lady.”
“You couldn’t get a mature lady.” Adam laughed. “They’ll think you’re a child.”
“I look older than you, metal-mouth,” Nate responded, before realizing his mistake and closing his mouth. “Besides, band has all grade levels in it. I could totally catch a sophomore or junior there. Probably not older, but, if I work for it, maybe I could lure in a senior.”
“An elusive senior girl? That’s not freshman territory, I’m telling you now. They could probably satisfy their own lust before a freshman could even think about doing it.”
“I said probably not.”
The seats around them began to fill with more freshman boys; some were talking deafeningly loud to their friends next to them, and some were sitting alone with their glasses and acne. The two ends of the social spectrum coexisted in that gym, and Nate and Adam were reigning the middle ground.
“I think I already hate this class,” Adam said. Nate looked around at the chaotic souls surrounding them and nodded.
“I heard that in two weeks we’ll be having a health class during this period, and that’s why the course is called Health and Physical Education. There’s some bookwork involved.”
Adam smirked. “A health class? Doesn’t that just mean…”
Nate interrupted. “There’s only two days dedicated to reproductive health, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Adam exhaled loudly. “It’s not like I’ll be using that information, anyway.”
“My brother said that they don’t really preach abstinence anymore, though. Like, remember how in eighth grade the whole presentation was don’t have sex or you’re doomed to chlamydia sorts of things?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Now it’s more like use birth control or you’re doomed to a baby.”
“Clearly, a baby is more terrifying than chlamydia.”
“It’s a more realistic teenage fear. There aren’t a ton of people here with an STI, but I’d venture to say there’s a few babies, both as living beings and aborted ghosts, lurking in this school.”
“You think so?”
“You don’t really see the babies. The girls come in early in the morning and drop them off at the daycare, and no one really understands that they made a mistake.”
“Oh.”
“I got here early this morning and saw some of them. It’s always the crustiest-looking women with the toddlers.”
“Your brother really had this down to a science.”
“He was a pretty judgmental person.”
A loud few claps rang through the gym, and the room went silent. Every freshman boy’s eyes wandered around the room before settling on Coach.
“Welcome to y’all’s first day a’ school! Y’all excited to be n’ high school now?”
A handful of cheers broke out, the most half-assed ones belonging to Nate and Adam. Theirs were simply a fist in the air and a monotone yeeeeeaaaaaahhhh…
“So, y’all should’ve figured out y’r uniform sitcheeations, so next step is forms. We’re gonna pass out to y’all a couple forms that ya need to give t’y’r parents. They’re pretty much just about medical stuff, as well’s a permission slip for the health class y’all’ll be takin’ in a couple a’ weeks. Try to get ’em in to-morrow, but if ya gotta take a couple days, no stress. They ain’t gonna be due ’till next Monday.”
A few thank goodnesses breathed through the class, which seemed silly to Adam. “Damn, guys, it’s not like there’s gonna be any other homework, anyway.”
“You dare insinuate they stop playing video games for one night?” Nate scoffed. “Unheard of!”
“Ah do dare, Saw-yare,” Adam said with an overbite.
“Franklin! Pay atten-shun!” Coach said. “Ah ain’t here to lec-shur boys who arn’t listening!”
Adam’s tomato face sank below the head in front of him, leaving only a wide-eyed Nate.
Coach grinned subtly and continued. “Anyways, class’ll dismiss anytime now, so please, repeat for me, what’re y’all taking home?”
A jumbled response of forms, permission slips and medical stuff came from the class.
“And when is it due?”
“Monday!”
Coach gave a thumbs-up. “Beau-ty-ful. Now just sit tight ’till the bell rings.”
As predicted, the bell rang about ten seconds later, and the crowd of boys scuttled out into the hallway. The floor was already littered with some Chick-Fil-A and Bojangles wrappers, marking a hallway of the South. Upperclassmen coming from the math hall were already surrounding the timid boys, much like vultures and dragons, and Adam subconsciously scooted in closer to Nate. Both of the boys held a clarinet case, and they held them in both hands, slightly raised like a shield. At about the time they made it past the cafeteria, which was a very short distance from the gym, they were approached by a girl who stood about nine inches shorter than Adam. She looked up at the two nervous boys above her.
“Are you two on your way to band?” she asked. They looked down and noticed a clarinet case in her hand.
“Symphonic Band, yes,” Nate answered.
“Right. Do you know where the band room is?”
“Vaguely.” Nate smiled confidently, but Adam was too flustered to react as coolly. This girl’s bluish eyes were like sapphires, and they kept Adam fixated on them, admiring their value like one would a pair of earrings.
“Awesome. I’m Flora, and it looks like I’ll be in your section, assuming those aren’t oboes.”
Nate shook his head. “Nope. They’re clarinets. I’m Nate, and this is Adam.”
Adam’s mouth trembled into a smile. “H-h-hi.”
“Nice to meet you. You strike me as freshmen.”
“Yeah, it’s probably super obvious. What year are you?”
She laughed. “Take a guess.”
Nate tapped his fingers on his chin. “You look like a sophomore. Am I right?”
She laughed louder. “I’m flattered.”
“So you’re not.”
“I wish this was only my second year at this trash can. Class of 2019, boy!” She gave a sarcastic two thumbs-up.
Nate leaned over to Adam. “What class are we? ’22, right?”
Adam didn’t hear him, only the melodic sound of a woman’s voice.
“Dammit, Nate, you should know for sure what class you are. You’re right, though,” Flora said.
“So you’re a senior!” Nate said proudly.
“Good job, boy. Mind if I walk with you two?”
“Not at all. Do you have friends in band?”
“Sort of. Are you doing marching band?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. I feel like I saw you at band camp.”
“Really? I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Maybe if you branched out from the other freshman, you would meet some cool upperclassmen.”
“You’re probably right about that.”
The conversation slowly garbled and faded as Adam observed Flora. His eyes scanned over her sincere smile, onto her straight nose, across her freckled cheeks and acne-dotted forehead, revisited her sparkling eyes, and combed through her wavy chestnut hair. Her eyes kept meeting his, and his face would glow redder. It seemed as though she had a watch on him, as if she expected him to be staring.
“So, is clarinet the only thing you guys play?” Flora caught his eyes again.
“No, I play bass clarinet, too,” he said.
Nate chuckled. “Not me. I don’t think I’m capable.”
Flora shrugged. “It would be an easy senior project someday. Learn a new instrument.”
“Is that what you’re doing?”
“I’m writing a story.”
“What about?”
Flora shrugged. “Not sure yet. I’d like to do realistic fiction, but I need to think of an interesting story. Maybe something dealing with bullying or…” She paused. “I want to do something serious.”
“Sounds interesting. I’ll read it when you write it, if you want,” Nate said, winking.
“We’ll see about that.”
The trio arrived at the band room with a conversation between Flora and Nate and a silent Adam following them. They quickly realized the amount of nervous freshmen who were roaming around the room, helplessly looking for their friends. Not long after Nate and Adam stepped into the room, they were bombarded with their equally anxious friend group. Their male friends were in two groups: the ones they did like, which were Andy and Riley, and the ones they didn’t like, which were Owen and Jason. Their female friends were also in two groups: the ones that didn’t have a crush on Adam, which were Claire and Jessa, and the one that did have a crush on Adam, which was Danna. Adam tried his hardest to scoot behind the men and avoid Danna’s attention, yet it was clear that she was willing to mine through the group to get to him. So, he did the second-best thing he could think of: he turned to talk to Flora instead. However, Flora wasn’t there next to him. She had already left for the storage room to drop off the clarinet she was tired of holding. Adam had no escape.
“Hey, Adam!” Danna said, not-so-subtly playing with her hair.
“What’s up, Danna? Anything new?” Adam asked, glancing rapidly between her and the storage room.
“Not really. Kind of nervous about this band.”
“How so?”
“It’s just so intimidating.”
“It’s not so bad.” Adam watched Flora exit the storage room.
“The upperclassmen don’t seem very friendly, though. I feel like bait here.”
“They’re actually pretty nice,” Adam said. Flora approached a boy standing in the clarinet section, smiling, and the boy looked equally as happy to see her.
“Who are you looking at?” Danna asked, visibly irritated. She turned around and glanced at Flora, then looked at Adam in denial.
“No one. I met a senior girl on the way here; she was really nice.”
“I see. Is that her?” Danna pointed at Flora.
“Yeah. Her name’s Flora.”
Danna grumbled softly. “Great.”
Flora talked with the boy, and occasionally she laughed as though she had just heard the funniest thing to ever grace her ears. Adam observed him. He had hair colored similarly to Adam’s, yet slightly redder, and it sat atop his head like a small pot, the edges flaring out like handles. He was stick-thin, though he seemed to stand at the same height, and his feet were noticeably too big for the rest of his body. Though Adam didn’t see the charm, it was quite possible that Flora did.
“I’m gonna go find a seat,” Adam said, and he left Danna with the rest of his babbling friends. He waited for Flora to separate from the boy and sit down, then sat next to her. She glanced at him and grinned.
“Hello again, Adam. Is that right?”
“Yeah. Mind if I sit here?”
“No, you’re good.”
Adam set his clarinet case on the ground. “Who’s that guy you were just talking to?”
The corners of Flora’s mouth twitched. “Wyatt Boutel. He’s a sophomore.”
“Is he cool?”
“He’s great, yeah.” Flora pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened up a game.
“How do you know him? I mean, I just assumed that seniors don’t really talk to this many underclassmen.”
“Um…” Flora sighed, almost sadly. “I met him through band, of course. We, uh, dated a little while back.”
“Oh. And you’re still friends?”
Flora smiled. “Yeah. I’d take that over nothing.”
Adam immediately didn’t like that smile. The smile was that of defeat, like it was doing nothing but masking residual pain. The smile said enough; now was not Adam’s time.
“I’m guessing you’d take love over that, though.”
Flora shifted in her seat. “You freshmen and your questions.” She put her phone back in her pocket and got up and left. Adam watched her walk back out into the hallway, slow-paced, hands in her pockets.
“I saw you trying to flirt there.” Adam felt a punch on his arm and looked up to see Nate.
Adam shook his head. “It’s not worth it. She obviously still likes her ex.”
“Who’s her ex?”
“Wyatt. He’s a sophomore clarinet.”
“Well, at least she goes after younger guys. You’re not totally out of luck,” Nate said, sitting next to Adam.
“I guess, but I don’t think I should get involved in that. I mean, what if he wants her back, too? He might hate me.”
“What if he doesn’t? What if he stalls and one day she just gives up and moves on? He can’t hate you for that.”
“Look,” Adam said, “there’s no situation right now where it’s a good idea for me to go after her. I’m not about to start drama first thing upon entering high school.”
Nate shrugged. “That’s fair. You know I’m just trying to keep your hopes up, buddy.”
“I know, but right now neither of them should matter to me. This year, what matters is my own self.”
