"I hate you, you know that?" Molly slams her tray onto the table. "Because of your little make-out session with Tish, I got an 82% on my Civics assignment. An 82."

I do feel bad about that. I look up from the apple in my hand and grin sheepishly.

"Yeah, uh, sorry 'bout that-"

"You don't get to say sorry, Tag," Molly interrupts me. "That is the lowest grade I've gotten, all semester, since Dr. Jennis gave me that 96% A."

Have I mentioned that Molly is a huge nerd? A couple years ago, in eighth grade, she was doing a group project with a boy that she had a crush on. Poor guy, he wasn't as enthusiastic about the poster thing, so when they got a B- on the project, Molly practically hated him. When the guy tried to ask her out to the end-of-school dance, she almost beat him up. He still cowers when she walks by.

Then there was that time in elementary when the teacher messed up while grading, and Molly ended up getting the highest possible B on a writing project, meaning she didn't get on Banner Roll. She wrote an entire argumentative essay about how the school administrators should've gone back and fixed it.

"... and I cannot forgive you for that. Tag? Are you even listening?"

Next thing I know, Molly is stabbing her plastic fork into my apple, sending juice everywhere.

"Oh, no," Max raises his eyebrows and sits down across from me. "It looks like the Nerd with a 'Tude has striked again."

"Struck," Molly growls, seething, before going off to sit with someone who hasn't caused her a bad grade. Good luck with that, Molly.

"So, what did the poor apple do to deserve Einstein's wrath?" Max hands me his apple, which he always skips anyways. He hates the food here, even though it could be much worse. "And what even is a 'Salisbury steak,' anyways?"

"The Curse of Taggany. We messed up Molly's skit, and she got a C or something because of it."

"A C? Dude, I'm surprised she went for the apple and not your throat. You should watch your back."

As Max pulls out a baggy of random spices, because "these people need to learn how to season their food," I take a bite of the new apple and ask what time we have to be in the music wing to prepare for the pep rally this afternoon.

He's probably answering, but Tish just walked in, and-

"Dude," Max slaps my arm, "close your mouth. That's disgusting.

"Hey, do you think Tish is still mad at me for the thing in the park?"

Well, I suppose the way Tish kicks him in the shin as she sits down by me answers Max's question well enough. Max grabs his leg and groans.

"Nevermind."

|_/>-<\_|

"Please," Tish snorts, "it isn't like my dad would care anyways. If you're serious about asking my parents before we start dating, ask my aunt."

"The one who lives next door, right? Uh, Ms. Lorraine?"

"Loretta, but yeah."

"Okay, then. Can I come by after band practice tomorrow and talk to her?" Gosh, that'll be awkward. But Tish would be my first girlfriend, and I'd be her first boyfriend, so I want to do this right. Respect, chivalry, all that.

"That'll be fine; she gets home pretty early. But don't you still need to ask your mom and dad?"

"Yeah, I'll ask them; but considering how many times I've heard 'Tag, you really should ask Tiffany out to dinner' and the likes, I have a feeling I know what they'll say." Honestly, my parents have shipped Taggany since I met her, and they don't even know what "shipping" is. If they had their way, they probably would have had Tish betrothed to me.

At the sound of the bell (which, surprisingly, Max finds annoying), Tish awkwardly hugs me and wishes me luck with the pep rally. Very awkwardly. I respond in kind, and head off to the music wing and the band room.

|_/>-<\_|

Okay, concentration. Feel the beat of the music. Feel your fingers flying from valve to valve to produce the right note. Breathe deep. Tone. Pitch. Timing. Be one with the baritone, Tag.

Before I know it, the last song is done and most of the students have trudged out of the doors towards the buses. I try to catch my breath as I put my sheet music back in the folder and go through the usual routine to pick up after rallies. Max is having some trouble steering the marimba through the door out of the gym, so I guess I'll help him with that.

Four hours later, I'm marching onto the football field with instrument in hand. This is the first game of the year; that means, as this is my first year in band, that this is my first time playing on the field at an actual game. Concentrate. Just concentrate. Don't let your mind wander off. Feel the beat of the music, the rise and fall, the ups and downs.

That's like how in books, the heroes always have ups and downs. They'll be at their peak in one chapter, with their love interests and the villains defeated, and then by the next chapter, everyone will hate them and scorn them. Am I at my peak? It sure feels like it, especially when Tish is nearby.

Music starts to play all around me. What happened?

Oh, no. Football game; marching band; and I'm supposed to be moving! I barely get out of the way of a line of trumpets and rush to my next spot on the final downbeat of the allotted time. I try to pick up after a rest, but I'm startled into it, so it sounds flat and a tad bit late. And I'm supposed to be marching again.

Is this the set where we make the S, or the one where I march back to the left? Oh, it's the one where we all press in closer together for 16 beats-

As that thought finally clicks in my mind, I start stumbling to my spot, still playing out-of-tune. But because I'm so distracted, I manage to trip on my own feet and fall forward into the flute player in front of me, who then stumbles into the person in front of her. When my head stops pounding enough that I can open my eyes, the sight of half of the band on the ground greets me. Thank you, sight. To make it even better, a few of them look like they were hurt when they fell with their instruments. I'm pretty sure that neither the tuba nor the tuba player are supposed to bend that way.

Is it really, really quiet, or is that just the blood rushing through my head?

|_/>-<\_|

"You're a monster," Alaina spits.

Come on, guys. It's not that big of a deal. So maybe there were a few broken bones. Maybe thousands of dollars worth of instruments were majorly damaged. Maybe I cost us our first performance of the piece that the band director has been composing for the last 14 years, and maybe I ruined some chances for a few seniors because someone's cousin, who just so happened to be a recruiter for one of the biggest musical/performing arts colleges in the country, was in town. Is it really that important for you all to hate me?

Oh, right. I forgot.

It is.

Well, before I can really think about it too much, I should get a good night's sleep. Can't despise yourself to the fullest extent when you're tired! There are my parents. Maybe they won't hate me-

"Tag, you come right here, young man. I am very upset with you."

Nevermind.

"Did you really think you could hide it from us?" Mom demands.

"What? Hide what?"

"Don't you play dumb with me! You've been seeing that girl," she said it like girl was the strongest word she could possibly say, "behind our backs."

"That girl? Wait, you mean Tish? I was going to ask you tomorrow! And you both love Tish," I exclaim.

"Tag," she says, suddenly crying; wait, what? "I thought we agreed that whenever you decided that you wanted to start dating, you would come to us first. I knew this would happen, but I never knew you would betray us so coldly!"

Okay, this is not my mother. Where is my mother?

"Mom, calm down. I'm not dating Tish; I was going to talk to both of you tomorrow afternoon, then ask her aunt Loretta-"

"Oh, great," Mom throws her hands out. "So you were already planning to talk to her family before you even asked us. Does our input not matter to you, Tag? Does the fact that we sacrificed the last 16 years of our lives for you not mean anything?"

Woah, sacrificed? That's harsh. As Mom continues ranting, she leads me to the car, where Dad's waiting; probably for more lectures about how she can't trust me anymore, and how I've disappointed her. Tish waves at me worriedly from across the room, but I'm dragged away before I can do anything other than signal that I'll call her.

Well, today has been productive. Now my parents are disappointed in me, one of my best friends hates me, and the entirety of the band is disgusted with my existence. I'm great at life, aren't I?

Sadly, no amount of masochistic sarcasm will get me out of this. At least it can't get any worse. Wait, I probably shouldn't think that. I'm a character in a book, and when characters in books say that-

Yup, there's the rain.