Free Butter by Erin Jade Lange Page A

will be a wall of lockers to break your fall.
    I held out my hand, and the Professor took it, using the support to set himself upright.
    â€œSorry,” we both said at once, then laughed.
    â€œLate for class. Wasn’t watching where I was going,” I said.
    The Professor shook his head. “No, I’m the one not paying attention. I jumped right out in front of you there.”
    â€œWhere did you come from?”
    He jerked his thumb at the door behind him. “Teacher’s lounge. You?”
    â€œComputer lab.”
    â€œHmm. Another elective?” He raised his eyebrows.
    â€œNah, nice try, Prof. Lab’s required. And I have to take it next semester too, so don’t be looking to rearrange my schedule.”
    The Professor laughed and started gathering up his fallen instruments and sheet music. “Tell you what—I’ll let you off the hook for next semester if you agree to take band senior year. What do you say?”
    What senior year?
    I sighed. What the hell.
    â€œOkay, Prof.”
    The Professor looked up from where he was crouched on the floor. “Really?”
    â€œReally.”
    He gathered his last few sheets and stood up, crumpling the papers in one hand as he made a fist and pointed at me. “That’s a promise?”
    â€œPromise.”
    â€œWell I’d shake on it, but my hands are a little full here.” He shrugged and displayed the crooked piles of paper tucked under his arms and between his fingers.
    Good. I didn’t want to shake on it anyway.
    â€œAnd Professor?”
    â€œDon’t take it back!”
    â€œNo, it’s not that. It’s just … I’m sorry about last night, about being rude and about telling my parents I was coming to Logan’s. That probably put you in an awkward spot.”
    â€œNo apology necessary. I was sixteen once too, believe it or not.”
    â€œOr not.” I grinned.
    â€œVery funny.” The Professor checked his watch as best as he could with his arms full of crap. “We’re both late for last period. You better run.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Prof, do I look like I run?”
    He took a few steps backward, moving down the hall. “Well, walk fast then.”
    I waved and headed in the opposite direction down the hall.
    â€œButter! One last thing.”
    I turned to listen.
    â€œThe Brass Boys are playing an early show at Logan’s tomorrow. Then we’ll be there after closing to rehearse if you want to come by.”
    I shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”
    â€œUp to you. But band next year—no second thoughts about that, okay? That’s a done deal.” He began walking backward again and pointed that paper-fist finger one more time. “Senior year. You promised.”
    I forced myself to smile and nod until he turned away. I felt awful lying to the Professor. It was even worse than lying to Anna.
    I decided I would go to Logan’s. It would make the Professorhappy, and I wanted to do something nice to make up for the letdown coming his way. Besides, one last jam with the Brass Boys sounded pretty good. I started making a mental list of other “one last” things to do as I shuffled off to class.
    â€¢ • •
    â€œYou’re late.”
    Man, was I blowing it with teachers that day.
    â€œHe’s not late. He was helping a teacher in the hallway.”
    â€œMr. Woods, when this school starts appointing hall monitors and you take up the post, then I will defer to your opinion about what constitutes permissible tardiness. In the meantime,” the teacher turned her attention back to me, “you
are late
.”
    I’m sure at that point she reached for a detention slip, but I wasn’t watching. I couldn’t look away from Trent Woods, the “mouth” that hung out with Jeremy, and as I stared, that mouth opened once again.
    â€œI’m serious. I saw him picking up a bunch of papers for