The Circle, Page 2

  Then he noticed that band was an option. Charlie was an accomplished musician, and the Earthan instrument called the trumpet was very similar to the instrument he played on Sentria. With some self-tutoring on reading Earthan music and some practice, he was sure he could do it. The fall semester was marching band, so he would have to learn to march as well. Sentria had wonderful orchestras, but no marching bands. At least it would be something different, Charlie thought.

  Charlie did very well on his audition—maybe too well. The assistant director, Mr. Newsome, wanted to make him first chair, but because he had no experience in marching, the director decided he should be third chair instead. Charlie was relieved. He didn’t want to cause any problems with the other band members. It was bad enough he was knocking the third chair player out of his spot.

  At least the now fifth chair trumpet player seemed to take the seating shake-up well enough. He actually came over and congratulated him. “Way to go, man,” he said, holding out his right hand. Charlie hesitated before he realized the boy wanted to shake hands, a strange Earthan custom.

  “Thanks,” Charlie said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “It’s Matt.”

  “Charlie.”

  “That was a great audition,” Matt said, looking over at the rest of the trumpet players. Most were either stunned or sulking. “And don’t worry about these guys. They just weren’t expecting such stiff competition from the new guy.”

  Charlie glanced over his shoulder at them. The one named Dan was fuming. He kicked a chair, knocking it over. Charlie couldn’t understand Dan’s reaction because, as first chair, his seat had been unaffected by the audition. Charlie decided it would be a good idea to get out of there.

  “Thanks, Matt. I’ll see you later.”

  “OK, Charlie. And don’t worry about marching. It’ll be a cakewalk for you.”

  Charlie didn’t understand the expression but nodded at Matt and walked out to the parking lot. When he was sure no one was looking, he pulled out his PCD and looked it up.

  CAKEWALK: SOMETHING THAT IS REALLY EASY TO DO.

  That was a relief. Charlie made a mental note to brush up on Earthan idioms. He had become rather good at them when he was in New Mexico, but that was several years ago, and he had forgotten a lot of them. Also, these Earthans were always coming up with new expressions. At least he wouldn’t have to return until next week. Maybe by then, Dan would have cooled off.

  Charlie put his trumpet in the trunk of his 1960 light-blue Mustang, the car he fell in love with when he had been to Earth the first time. He looked up to see the freshmen arriving for their marching practice. It was ninety-five degrees, and they were all wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves.

  Perspiration. Charlie wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was only August, and he would have to spend the entire marching season side by side with these sweaty Earthans. Perhaps he should have researched his choice of extracurricular activities a little better.

  His mother was sitting at the kitchen table when he got home. Helen Gray had decided to join the Clear Lake Garden Club as part of the social club requirement. She was reading up on the care of various varieties of roses when Charlie walked in.

  “How was the audition?” she asked.

  “Fine,” Charlie said simply.

  “Did you make the team?”

  “Yes, Mom. I made the band.”

  “Oh,” she said. She closed her gardening magazine. “I’m brewing some coffee. Could I get you a cup?”

  “That would be great, thanks,” Charlie said.

  Coffee was one of the things the Sentrians liked best about Earth. The first Sentrian explorers who came to Earth brought coffee plants back to their home planet, eager to share this wonderful drink with their people. Unfortunately, Sentrian soil was utterly unsuitable for coffee plants. They also tried importing coffee beans, but Sentrian water did not brew well. Their scientists invented a synthetic substitute for coffee, but it had a bad aftertaste and was completely inferior to Earthan coffee.

  Mrs. Gray poured Charlie a large mug, the size of a soup bowl, full of strong black coffee and refilled her own mug. It was only eleven, but the Grays had already consumed three pots of coffee this morning.

  “What plans do you have for today?” Mrs. Gray asked.

  “I was going to study up on marching maneuvers.”

  “That’s nice, dear. Your father will be home early tonight, and I know he’ll want to hear about your day. I’m making your favorite for dinner: stuffed bell peppers and pancakes.”

  “OK, Mom,” Charlie said and excused himself. His mother still sounded like a fifties housewife on a TV sitcom. It was going to be hard for all of them to make the adjustment from the fifties to the eighties. He had already decided that he wouldn’t mention upsetting the seating arrangement in the trumpet section. That would be an unnecessary thing for his mother to worry about, and it wouldn’t please his father, either.

  Charlie went upstairs and turned on his Sentrian computer. He reviewed videos of championship-winning marching bands and drum-and-bugle corps. He was surprised that he actually enjoyed watching them.

  He was a little concerned about returning to practice on Monday, but Matt was right. The other trumpet players were as friendly as he could expect, considering he was the new guy. Only the first chair, Dan, was still hostile. Charlie just kept to himself and tried not to bother anyone.

  After the warm-up, they broke into sections to practice “Rodeo.” Dan walked down the trumpet line handing out the marching diagrams, while the drum major told them to start learning the moves. “If you can’t get it, you can always come up tomorrow morning and practice with the fish,” Dan said to Charlie and motioned to the freshmen struggling to learn the basic marching maneuvers.

  “If he marches half as well as he plays the trumpet, he’s gonna make you look like the fish, Dan,” Matt said.

  Some of the other trumpet players touched their index fingers to their tongues and made a sizzling sound. Dan turned red and scowled at Matt. Charlie wasn’t sure what the fingers on the tongue meant, but he gathered that Matt had taken a shot at Dan.

  “Just make sure you know your stuff,” Dan said, shoving the diagrams into Charlie’s hands.

  Charlie went home and practiced the marching moves until he had them down cold. He didn’t need to give Dan any reason to bother him. It wasn’t until the next day at practice that he realized his diligence had backfired.

  “Hey, Chuck, where are your diagrams?” Dan asked.

  “It’s Charlie, and they’re at my house,” Charlie replied. By the look on Dan’s face, he knew he should not have left them there.

  “Well, Charles, having them at home isn’t going to do you much good. What are you going to do when we start the marching sequences?”

  “I have them memorized,” Charlie said. All the other trumpet players snapped their heads back to look in his direction.

  “Oh really,” Dan said sarcastically. He called over to the drum major. “Hey, Mike.”

  “What’s going on?” Michael asked. He started walking over to where the trumpet players were standing.

  “It seems Charlie doesn’t need to bring his marching diagrams, because he’s got the whole thing memorized.”

  Charlie looked at the ground. These darn Earthans. He took it literally when they said start memorizing the maneuvers and the music, and he was still in trouble. Why didn’t they say what they mean and mean what they say?

  “I think he needs to prove it,” Dan said.

  Michael took Dan aside and whispered into his ear. “He’s not a fish; he’s a senior. I don’t see any reason to humiliate him.” No one else could hear, but Charlie could. He was a supersonos. A small number of his people had superhearing, and he was one of them.

  “Aw, c’mon,” Dan said. “This dude needs to be taken down a few notches. He’s never even marched before.”

  “All right,” Michael agreed. “But get it over w
ith and don’t embarrass him in front of the whole band.”

  Dan nodded. He could live with that. He called the trumpets to attention. “All right, listen up. Charlie’s got this first section memorized. He’s going to show us how it’s done.”

  Charlie knew he should just let Dan be right. He should say, “You were right. I don’t know this at all,” but he just couldn’t do it. Maybe he was just sick of putting up with stuff. It was bad enough the rulers on his planet tried to run his life; now he had to deal with this insufferable Earthan punk. Or maybe it was because he did know it, and he wanted to prove it.

  Whatever the reason, Charlie took his trumpet and walked over to the hash mark on the football field to mark off his position. Dan counted Charlie off, and he played and marched the entire section flawlessly. When he finished, there was a mixture of cheering, clapping, and laughing. Matt especially whooped it up. Now Charlie realized why Matt had been so nice to him after the audition last week. Matt had wanted Charlie to unseat Dan.

  Dan’s face turned red again, and his scowl reappeared. Michael called the band to attention then, and Charlie was glad for the interruption. The rest of the practice, Charlie just tried to keep out of Dan’s way. If there was one thing Charlie understood from life on his planet, it was pecking order. You had to know your place in the world, or in his case, the universe.

  As soon as Michael dismissed the band, Charlie headed straight for his car. He glanced up and for just a second caught the gaze of a pretty Earthan girl. She smiled at him, and he found himself wanting to smile back. Instead, he frowned and turned away. She was lugging a French horn case, and it was almost as big as she was. She was tiny, maybe five feet tall, but probably less. She could easily have passed for a Sentrian female. He suddenly felt homesick. He wished he didn’t have to be here. Charlie started the car and drove home.

  Helen and Louis were sitting in the living room drinking coffee when he arrived. “How was practice?” Helen asked cheerfully.

  “It was fine,” Charlie said glumly.

  “Let me get you a mug of coffee, and you can tell us all about it.”

  “Not tonight, Mom. I’m really tired.” His parents looked disappointed. He was an only child, so his parents focused a lot of attention on him. Ordinarily he loved to talk to his father, but tonight he just wanted to be alone.

  Charlie changed clothes and crawled into bed. He tossed and turned for a while. He hated Earth. Why did his father have to be so valuable to the Sentrian government? Why couldn’t he have been a janitor or something? If he had, then Charlie would never have had to go on these Earthan missions to begin with. When he finally did fall asleep, he dreamed about Sentria.

  Chapter 3

  Fall Semester: August–September

  The sound of Duran Duran’s “Planet Earth” blaring from her clock radio woke Lilly up. She wanted so badly to hit the snooze button on her alarm clock, but she resisted. It was only the first day of school, and she could not get motivated. This did not bode well for the rest of the year.

  After ten minutes in a hot shower, she finally started to wake up. On her way out the door, she grabbed a cereal bar and a Diet Coke, her preferred method of caffeine ingestion. She was already regretting letting Ian and Beth sucker her into taking them to school this year. By picking them up, she was sacrificing an extra fifteen minutes of sleep.

  First period was band, so at least she could ease into the school year. They went through “Rodeo” a few times and then practiced the songs for the drill team. Next was English: a real class with real homework. Lilly loved to read, but she could do without the research papers. She met up with Claire and walked with her toward their second-period classes.

  “Homecoming will be here before we know it, and I have no idea what kind of dress to wear,” Claire fretted. Lilly thought she must have spent hours choosing her first day of school ensemble. Her teal shirt and blouse were color coordinated with her hair clip, purse, and nails. She might as well have tattooed “high maintenance” on her forehead. “Matt better not go cheap on the mum like last year,” Claire grumbled. “I had the smallest, cheesiest mum in the school. What do you think that says about a guy’s level of commitment when he gets you such a small mum?”

  Lilly didn’t really want to get involved. She liked Matt and Claire both, but she thought they could fight about the most juvenile things. “I don’t know, Claire. I’ve never been invited to a homecoming dance.”

  “That’s true, but still, you are a girl. I’m sure you have an opinion,” Claire said.

  “I don’t know. It would depend on other factors,” Lilly said.

  “Other factors? What does that mean?”

  The girls realized they had company. The new trumpet player was walking behind them. Suddenly he stopped, tilted his head to one side, and looked up at the ceiling. A moment later he started moving again and headed into Mrs. Hartman’s class.

  “That is so not normal,” Claire said. Lilly had to agree. Claire looked back to Lilly. “You were saying?”

  “Uh, yeah. It’s like how he treats you. Is he thoughtful and considerate, or selfish and self-centered? Maybe he’s a wonderful guy who just doesn’t have a lot of money.”

  “I still think if he cared enough, he could find a way to get a decent mum,” Claire said.

  “Maybe so.”

  “I gotta go.” Claire was frowning, and Lilly got the feeling Claire was mad at her for not agreeing wholeheartedly with her.

  “See you at lunch,” Lilly called out, but Claire was gone.

  Lilly was the last one to enter the classroom, and Mrs. Hartman gave her a dirty look. She quickly sat in the only seat still available. It was right next to Charlie. Lilly sighed. It really didn’t matter. There wasn’t anyone in this class she knew well anyway.

  “Let’s get started,” Mrs. Hartman said. “Tomorrow, be sure to bring your spiral notebook. We are going to start every class with five minutes of brainstorming.”

  Some of the class groaned. Great, Lilly thought. Over the summer Mrs. Hartman must have attended some stupid workshop that endorsed the idea of brainstorming. Now they would have a year’s worth of useless journal entries. What a waste of a spiral notebook.

  Mrs. Hartman ignored the groans and continued. “Reading assignments: the first three chapters of Brave New World by Friday. There will be a quiz.” More of the class groaned this time. “Now, open your literature books to page ten.”

  Lilly glanced over at Charlie. He was wearing the usual: plaid shirt, jeans, and white tennis shoes. And, of course, those awful glasses. “He should really consider contacts,” Lilly said under her breath. She thought she had spoken softly but was surprised when he turned his head toward her.

  Whoops, Lilly thought. She felt her face get hot.

  “Ms. Garcia, would you care to read the first lines of sonnet eighteen?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lilly said. She looked down at her book and started reading.

  ***

  At lunch Lilly went through the salad bar line, as she did every year. As far as Lilly was concerned, salad was the only edible option in the cafeteria. She got her drink and walked over to sit with the band. Ian nodded at Lilly as she walked past. “I can, too. I reached level ten twice this weekend,” Ian challenged. “Wanna bet?” He was talking about a video game with Gary, a saxophone player. They were both gamers.

  “Hey, Lil,” Claire said, scooting over to make room. She was no longer annoyed with Lilly, and she was in quite a talkative mood. “English class stinks this year,” Claire complained. She had Mrs. Hartman right after Lilly. “And Brave New World sounds totally lame. I don’t want to read it.”

  “Join the club,” Lilly said, munching on a carrot. “I wish we could read a love story.”

  “Like Jane Eyre?” Claire suggested.

  “Well, we read that one last year,” Lilly said. “Oh, that’s right. You only skimmed the Cliff’s Notes.”

  Claire took a carrot stick out of her own salad and cr
unched loudly, giving Lilly a dirty look in the process. Claire also preferred the salad bar, but that was because she was constantly on a diet. She didn’t want to gain an ounce on her size-four frame. After all, some people had homecoming dresses to fit into.

  Claire turned and started talking to Matt. They were bemoaning the fact that they only had one class together and trying to figure out their weekend plans. Lilly felt like a third wheel. She let her eyes wander across the cafeteria. She noticed Charlie sitting by himself. He picked up his sandwich; then suddenly he froze and looked up at the ceiling. A moment later he snapped out of it and continued eating.

  Lilly shook her head. He was so strange. She had known Charlie for a little over four weeks, and in that time she had never seen him smile. He kept to himself, and the other band members pretty much ignored him. Lilly felt kind of sorry for Charlie, but then again, he put out a leave-me-alone vibe. It was as if he had a dark cloud hanging over his head. The bell rang then, startling her out of her thoughts. She took another bite of her salad, a sip of Diet Coke, and headed off for her next class.

  ***

  Charlie’s day was just as bad as he imagined it would be. Since he had last been to Earth, it seemed as if the kids had become more unruly. They would ignore their teachers or just be plain rude by talking through the entire class. His Sentrian teachers would never have tolerated that behavior. And their appearance was odd to Charlie. The boys all had yellow-orange hair and wore these ugly slip-on checkered shoes. The girls wore their hair in a big poof in the front. They wore too much eye shadow and eyeliner and had giant hoop earrings in their ears. All the teenagers dressed so casually. Back in the fifties, many of the girls and all of the female teachers wore dresses or skirts. Now, the girls wore jeans, and even the teachers wore slacks.

  When he entered the cafeteria, he saw Henry—or actually, the top of Henry’s head. He was immersed in a book and didn’t even look up when Charlie passed by. Charlie briefly thought of sitting with his fellow Sentrian but then thought better of it. He and Henry had nothing in common, and besides, Henry was a total bore and kind of strange. He found an empty table by the window and ate his lunch alone.