Free Revenge Of A Band Geek Gone Bad by Naomi Rabinowitz Page B

me a headache.  I slumped down in my seat.  "Okay," I went on, "what if she made copies of the note, you know, for her resume?"
    He shrugged.  "Not like our fingerprints are on it.  I trashed the original and erased it from my drive."
    "Well, what if she told her parents and they come to the school and complain and then we get expelled and I can't get into college and oh my God, my parents would kill me....!"  Yeah, I was still rambling, but the coffee had apparently short-circuited my brain.  I made a mental note to stay away from that stuff.
    "Look, Mel, nothing's gonna happen to us, okay?"  Josh interrupted.  "I have it all under control."  He smiled at me.  "Don't you trust me?"
    "We're so dead," I moaned.
    "Hey," he said, squeezing my shoulder.  Despite myself, I relished the touch —- his hand felt so warm!  "Everything will be fine.  They'll never suspect you .  And if by some million-in-one chance we are caught," he said.  "I'll take all the blame.  I promise.  I won't let anything bad happen to you."
    I wanted to believe him.  I wanted to be sure that this would work out.  But then a more urgent matter came up, one which at that moment took precedence over our project.
    "Oh my God, Josh, can you pull over someplace quickly?"  I asked, wriggling around in my seat.  "After all that coffee, I really have to pee!'
    ###
    Josh and I arrived early for band that day.  We eagerly waited for Kathy and Mr. Francis to show up.
    "You just lay low, do your usual warm-up thing," he instructed.  "Meanwhile, I'll create a diversion and hold off Francis.  We only need to give her a few minutes, anyway."
    Soon Mr. Francis strolled down the hall standing out amidst the crowd in a red velvet blazer and green pants.  From a distance, he looked like a very fat, disgruntled Christmas elf.  "Hey, Mr. Francis, Mr. Francis!" Josh called out.  "I need to talk to you."
    Our conductor's lips curved into a frown, a.k.a. the standard expression he wore whenever he had to deal with Josh.  "This better be good, Kowalski," he growled.  "You already waste enough of my time as it is."
    I expected to see Josh curse out Mr. Francis ... or launch into a tap-dance, but he simply told our conductor,
    "Oh, I was thinking of getting a new trumpet because this one's getting all beat up.  Can you recommend one?"
    At the mention of something music-related, Mr. Francis's unhappy expression disappeared and he actually seemed to be well, pleased, that Josh had asked for his advice.  "Well, there are many good brands," he began, his voice booming in the hallway.  "I'll tell you which ones I prefer..."
    Their voices trailed off as I went back into the band room and took my seat next to Maya.  So far, everything seemed the same as always.  As everyone warmed up their instruments, there was that familiar roar of notes and murmuring.
    And then Kathy arrived.  She always wears the latest fashions and is put-together, but this outfit was positively traffic stopping.  She wore a tight-fitting, but not too revealing, copper suit that went well with her red hair, and her long locks were tied back in a loose, low bun. She finished off the look with a pair of matching gold sandals and a bunch of long necklaces.  She was just like one of those teachers who young boys dream about, the ones who look like they're all business, but then let down their hair and are stunning.
    Of course when she entered, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared.  The room was dead silent, which if you think about it, is pretty freaky for a band room.  Kathy didn't care that she was being gawked at; she smiled broadly, obviously loving the attention.
    "Hi, guys!"  she called out, giving a little wave as if she were Miss America.  A couple of the guys in the sax section whistled.  She looked around for a moment, possibly for Mr. Francis, then shrugged and stood up on his podium.  "Um, guys?" she called out.  She took a pencil out of her bag and rapped