What Happened to Goodbye(47)
Author: Sarah Dessen

I just looked at her. “You were in a band?”

She nodded. “For a little while.”

The person in my ear was still going, their voice ragged and loud. “You,” I said slowly, “were in this band?”

“Yeah. I mean, it was a small school. Not a lot of options.” She adjusted her headband. “I’d been taking drum lessons forever, but I really wanted some collaborative experience. So when I saw the ad for a drummer, I applied, and got to sit in for some session work.”

“Deb,” I said, holding up my hand. “Hold on. Are you messing with me?”

“What?”

“You just . . .” I trailed off. “You don’t exacayed in, flook like a speed-metal drummer.”

“Because I’m not,” she said.

“You’re not.”

“I mean, I don’t quantify myself that way. I’m trained in all genres.” She reached into her bag, taking out a pack of gum, and offered me a piece. When I declined, she stuck it back in, zipping it shut, then looked up at me. “Although I do like the faster stuff, if only because it’s more fun to play.”

I opened my mouth, still shocked, but no words came. Before I could form any, Dave suddenly plopped down beside me. “Hey,” he said, shrugging off his backpack. “What’s going on here? ”

I turned to look at him. “Deb,” I said, “is a drummer.”

“Holy crap!” he said.

“I know!” I said. “Isn’t that crazy? I just—”

“What happened to your face?” he asked.

So much for it hardly being noticeable. “Riley punched me,” I told him.

“She what?”

“That’s the rumor,” I said, picking up my water. “At least according to Deb.”

“I heard it in the bathroom,” Deb explained.

Dave looked at her, then at me again. “Whoa,” he said, leaning in closer. “She really got a good hit in.”

I just looked at him. “Do you really believe she’d do that?”

“To you?” he asked. “No. But she does have a good arm on her. That, I know from experience. What was this fight supposedly about?”

I looked at Deb, who quickly busied herself looking for something in her purse. Finally, I said, “Apparently, it was a jealous rage spurred by seeing us together at the game.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Right. The jealous rage thing.” He carefully raised a hand, touching my cheek. In my peripheral vision, I saw Deb’s eyes widen. “What really happened?”

“My locker door attacked me.”

“They’ll do that.” He dropped his hand, then smiled. “You need some ice or something?”

“Already got it at the nurse’s office,” I told him. “But thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said. “Since I was the cause and everything.”

I smiled. “You joke, but the rest of the school totally believes it. Just look around us.”

Dave turned, scanning the courtyard. Since he’d joined us, we had even more of an audience. “Whoa,” he said, looking back at me. “You’re not kidding.”

“People can’t resist a love triangle,” Deb said.

“Is that what this is?” Dave asked. He was talking to her, but looking right at me, and I felt my face flush.

“No,” I said.

He shrugged. “Too bad. I’ve always wanted to be part of one of tse.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Deb told him, shaking her head. “It’s no picnic, let me tell you.”

I snorted, which made Dave laugh. Deb just looked at us, not getting the joke. “Deb,” I said, “is there anything you don’t have experience with?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“It’s just . . .” I looked at Dave for help, but of course he gave me none. “You’re an expert on tattoos. A drummer. And now, you’ve been in a love triangle.”

“Just once,” she replied. Then she sighed. “But once was more than enough.”

Dave laughed, then looked at me again, and I felt this little rush. Like a tiny flame flickering. No, I thought just as quickly. I’m not staying here long. He’s not my type.

“So, Deb,” Dave said. “You coming to Luna Blu this afternoon to work on our model project?”

“It’s not our anything,” I said. “I was just there that day to help Opal. It’s for delinquents only.”

“Not true,” he corrected me. “It’s a service project for anyone who has a hankering to serve their community.”

“A ‘hankering’ ?” I said.

“I love volunteering!” Deb exclaimed. “Is it really open to anyone? ”

“Yep,” Dave told her. “And don’t listen to Mclean. She’s practically spearheading the entire thing.”

“It sounds like so much fun! I love group projects,” Deb said.

“Then you should come by some afternoon. We work from four to six,” Dave said.

“Are you speaking for me?” I asked him. “Because I won’t be there.”

“No? ” he asked. We looked at each other for a moment. Then he said, “We’ll see.”

Deb looked at me, then at Dave, then back at me again, her expression a question. Before I could say anything, though, the bell rang, its sound ricocheting around the courtyard, making my ears ring. She jumped up, reaching for her bag, but still kept her eyes on Dave, intrigued, as he eased himself to his feet, then turned and looked down at me.

“You didn’t have to take a punch for me, you know,” he said. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“You’re a freak is what you are,” I said.

He stuck out his hand. “Come on, slugger. Walk with me. You know you want to.”

And the thing was, despite everything I knew—that it was a mistake, that he was different from the others—I did. How he knew that, I had no idea. But I got up and did it anyway.

That afternoon, when I got home, my dad’s keys were in the door. When I pulled them out and pushed it open, I heard voices.

“Stop it. Seriously. This isn’t funny.”

“You’re right.” A p="1em" ali“It’s pathetic.”

There was some giggling. Then, “Look, if we rank everyone on the staff with the point system, and incorporate the evaluations like we discussed, then go off of that, then . . .”