Hometown Play

1.
Seventeen year old Abigail Kincaid hurried from the band room towards
the gym in Canterville High School. She was performing the first
movement in Mozart's Concerto for Clarinet in "A" tonight at the Fall
Social Concert.
Nervously, she tossed her long dark hair behind her shoulder. Her
stomach was hitching again. Her hands trembled slightly as she arranged
the music she was carrying. It hadn't helped to calm down when she
realized she left it in her book bag. It took her ten minutes just to
find it. Now she was running late and she hated to be late for
anything. Especially for solo performances that would be the judge of
her admission to Juilliard.
At this point she just wished that her director and mentor, Mr.
Duncan, had kept his mouth shut about her in front of his professor
colleagues. It would have saved her a lot of grief. Normally she didn't
get stage fright this bad, but she was feeling physically sick, and
prayed she didn't vomit.
Almost as if her stomach was rebelling against her brain, the flutters
sprang into a sharp clenching pain. She knew it was no use, lunch was
coming up. Her plain black pumps clicked briskly on the cheap
commercial grade tile floor. She lifted her long blue skirt a few
inches so she could pick up her pace. The length was a little long for
her five eight frame. She guessed they grew the girls tall in the
seventies, which is probably when the stupid things were made.
She turned a corner in corridor and could hear the band already
warming up. Amid the chaos of sound, some wise cracking saxophone
playing "In the Mood" floated above the rest, taunting her. The tune
seemed to laugh at her, like an ironic sick kind of joke. She was
definitely not in the mood.
She felt the bile rising in the back of her throat. Oh hell. She broke
into a trot, dropped her hand to her skirt to wipe the dampness off and
hoped the dizziness would subside before she reached the restrooms. Old
man Duncan and the professor from Juilliard would have to wait until
she ralphed and rid herself of the awful clenching in her belly. She
rounded the last corner and had enough time to raise her head before
she ran into what felt like a brick wall.

Jordan Case, linebacker for the varsity football team, stepped from
the weight room next to the gym, where he had been working out. Feeling
relaxed from his short shower, his stomach grumbled in response to the
smell of pizza and baked goods wafting down the hall. The band was
putting on some sort of fundraiser concert tonight, and he could hear
the toots and blatting of the band coming from the gym. It sure didn't
sound like music to him.
Smoothing his hand over his cropped sandy hair, he headed in the
direction of his locker and contemplated stopping at the concession
counter on his way home for a slice of pizza. Suddenly, something
smacked him square in the chest and bounced off. He took a step back to
keep his balance. A tall brunette, dressed in the blue skirt and white
blouse uniform of the band, went sprawling across the hard floor. Her
hair formed a dark cloud around her head and papers went flying like
confetti to scatter haphazardly around her.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Afraid she hurt herself; he set down his duffel bag and placed a hand
on her shoulder. Nothing seemed to be out of order. In fact, as his
eyes scanned her form, everything was in perfect order.
"Why don't you watch where you're going, you big?" Abby's outburst
died in her throat, as she blew hair out of her face.
Jordan Case knelt next to her, dressed in varsity shorts and t-shirt.
Great, just what she needed before a major performance. She felt the
heat flush to her face in embarrassment.
She tried not to ogle at the golden down that covered his muscular
legs. Un-nerved, as his direct blue gray eyes looked her over, then
settled on her own eyes, she pushed her hair out of her face.
"Um?Sorry?I'm just?I need?,"she stammered as she tried to gather the
papers spread over her skirt and on the floor. God, she sounded like an
idiot.
Jordan started to help her, not quite ready to admit how startled he
was by her face. She reminded him of that Shakespeare play they were
reading in English Lit. Something about fairies having parties and
turning people into asses. Her eyes, light brown with specks of green,
made him think of a forest floor. Her cheekbones were high, giving her
a regal look, but she had a dusting of freckles over her straight nose
that stood out boldly, in contrast to her skin. Suddenly, he realized
how pale she really was. Then, before his very eyes, she started to
turn sheet white.
With one hand covering her mouth, and the other wrapping around her
waist, she scrambled to her feet, "Got to reach?going to be?"
She ran the ten feet to the girls' restroom, leaving Jordan still
kneeling among the scattered papers. He could hear the clicking of her
heels abruptly stop, a low miserable groan, and the unmistakable
retching noise that could only mean a lunch lost to the porcelain
gods.
Amused, despite himself, Jordan reached over to collect the papers she
dropped on the floor. "Mozart's Concerto for Clarinet in "A" - Solo for
Clarinet". He grinned, so this explained her behavior. She was
performing a solo tonight. He felt a pang of sympathy as the retching
reached a peak. Maybe he shouldn't tease her too much.
Jordan studied the cascading line of notes as they smoothly glided up
and down the page. He couldn't imagine being in front of all those
people and having to play this with their eyes on every move he made.
It was one thing to be part of a team, but to be the star, was too much
pressure for him. That's why he was linebacker. To be quarterback or
receiver took a lot of responsibility, and when he was on the field,
all he wanted to do was play football. He figured it took a lot of guts
to stand in front of a crowd and be spotlighted.
The retching stopped. She probably needed a moment to collect herself
before he checked on her.
He arranged the music by page number. Again, he thought the piece
looked difficult and he wondered how it would sound once played. He
would have to ask her about it on their date. Strange, he made up his
mind that he was going to go out with this girl and he didn't even know
her name yet. That little fact made him uneasy, but he pushed the
feeling aside.
He heard the commode flush, and confident that the worse was over, he
strode into the girls bathroom. He found the brunette sitting on the
dingy floor of the first stall, her forehead resting on her drawn up
knees. The part in her skirt revealed a white slender leg and made his
stomach flinch when he saw how shapely it was. In her hand, she
clutched a handful of pitiful toilet paper.
Abby didn't hear him come in, and jumped when he turned on the faucet
to run some paper towels under the cold water. Resting her cheek on her
knee, she tried to slow her breathing back down to normal.
Talk about humiliation. She closed her eyes. She couldn't believe that
she puked right in front of one of the most popular guys in school. She
was sure his buddies would get a good laugh. Well, she won't make a big
deal out of it, she decided. She had more important things to worry
about.
"You know," he said as he squatted next to her, his thigh muscles
bunching impressively, "I normally don't get this kind of reaction when
I meet a girl."
"I bet," Abby muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing," she said, as she looked purposely away from his hulking
form. She gratefully took the damp paper towels, and pressed them to
the back of her neck.
"Thanks. I'm sorry I yelled at you before. I'm just under a lot of
pressure right now."
"Because of the music, right?" he gestured to the counter where he
left it.
"Yes. Old ma-, I mean, Mr. Duncan, has a friend of his from Juilliard
here tonight to hear me play" a small sigh escaped her, when she
pressed the towel to her forehead. It felt cool and refreshing and she
wished she could just go home and take a dip in the pool.
"Juilliard, that's pretty big. You must be good."
"The best," she smiled wickedly, then saw Jordan's raised brow.
"I mean-it's a hard school to get into. You have to be invited," she
stammered, embarrassed, as two red patches stained her cheeks.
When I get nervous before a game," he said, hoping to help her relax,
"I just think of my most humiliating experience and think that anything
I do can't be as bad as that."
"Well, puking in front of a guy rates right up there in the humiliation
category."
"Don't worry; everyone gets some kind of stage fright."
"It's not stage fright," her head snapped up and her eyes flashed, "I
don't get stage fright."
"Then why are we having a conversation in front of a toilet in the
girls' restroom?"
She sighed, "Okay. Point taken."
"Do you think you can stand now?" he asked, gently gripping her
elbow.
She nodded, as he helped her to her feet. She was surprised at how
soft his touch was. She went to the sink and splashed some water on her
face.
"I know how it is", he said sympathetically, "I had a scout from Notre
Dame come last week, and I was a nervous wreck. Of course, I didn't
lose my lunch, but the fifty laps around the track didn't stop my hands
from shaking during pre-game."
"How relieved were you when it was over?"
"I was just relieved that we won that game. It wouldn't look good if we
lost."
She wiped her face, causing her fair skin to flush to a rosy color.
Jordan remembered her blush earlier and wanted to see if he could make
her do it again.
"Hmm?I know. It's a lot of pressure, especially if you want it bad
enough."
"What's your name?" he asked as he tucked a strand of her hair behind
her shoulders. He could smell her perfume. It was slightly dark and
mysterious, again reminding him of a forest.
She froze at the gesture, not sure what to think about it.
"Abigail Kincaid," she said softly. She stopped wiping her chin and
faced him.
He was standing close, almost intimately, with his hand casually
resting on the counter. His gray eyes seemed calm on the surface, but
she could see a glint of interest. She wasn't all too sure what to do
about it. She didn't have a lot of experience with boys, or the ritual
of flirting with a boy. He extended his other hand.
"It's nice to meet you. I'm?"
"Jordan Case, I know," she smiled as she shook his hand, "I go to the
games, I'm in the marching band."
Could she be any more pathetic, she thought, disgusted with
herself.
"Tell me, Abby, do you like football?"
Something about his tone made her think she was getting in over her
head. It was an uneasy feeling, but very exciting. You only live once,
she thought.
"I think it's an exciting game," she answered warily, "I don't know all
the rules, but I get the gist."
"It's more than rules and points, Abby. It's about facing unbeatable
odds. About getting that ball into the end zone, no matter what stands
in your way."
"Are we still talking about football?"
He grinned again. She felt her knees weakening, and thought she might
have to vomit again. Damn, if she was going to puke again right on his
shoes. She managed to keep it down by sheer willpower.
He was still holding her hand, hers gently swallowed in his. Her hand
was so small and white compared to his. She could feel the rough
calluses on his palm, and when he rubbed his thumb gently over the top
of her hand, small tingles skipped along her arm up to her
shoulder.
"What do you think?"
"I think you're way too confident," she tried to pull her hand away,
but he held it fast.
"Okay, then I'll ask you straight out. Will you go out with me?"
"Why?"
He brought her hand to his lips, "I'd like to get to know you, Abby.
Any girl that's not afraid of puking in front of a guy, must be
interesting."
Damn it, he was good. It seemed the warmth of his lips traveled down
her hand and up her arm to leave her spine a towering, wobbling, column
of Jell-O. Color flooded her face. Softly, he released her hand. He had
felt her pulse leap, and was positive he would get the answer he
wanted.
"Okay," she said shakily. That's it. The tally was in. She was
pathetic. To hide her embarrassment she faced the mirror and starting
wiping her chin.
"Good."
He took a step closer and his eyes met hers in the mirror. She was
wrong. There was nothing calm about them despite his light tone. They
darkened to a stormy gray as he took the paper towel from her hand and
dabbed at her cheek.
"Because, Abigail Kincaid, I would like to know when my next chance to
kiss you would be," he said. She could feel his breath next to her ear,
causing her own to hitch a little.
He tossed the towel in the garbage and turned towards the door.
"Meet me by the spirit rock after the game Friday."
He turned back, grinned cockily, his eyes twinkling now, "Without the
barf breath."
Stunned, Abby listened to him whistle as he strode down the hall. She
realized it was Jimmy Eats World's chorus to "Middle". She laughed to
herself and listened as he faded away and all she could hear was
Duncan's bellowing over the din of instruments across the hall.