I found Sherry in history class at first period. Our roles seemed comically reversed; I was the one searching her out, and she looked a bit apprehensive when she saw me.
There were a few minutes before the first bell, and I gave Sherry my warmest smile.
“Cammy and I talked about you after we dropped you off,” I told her.
Sherry nodded, and after a couple of seconds, she asked, “Was she serious about me becoming a cheerleader?”
“Camille kids a lot, but not about cheerleading,” I informed Sherry. “She said that she would prefer a girl that knows gymnastics over what she called the untalented bimbos that she normally sees going out as candidates.”
“I’m intrigued by the thought, but I’m afraid she was just being nice.”
“Cammy is a nice person, but when she said you’d be an ideal candidate, I knew that she meant it.”
“I’ll need to think on it,” Sherry said just as the bell rang, signaling the start of class.
I saw Kristen in the lunchroom at fourth period. I went to our accustomed table and found my blonde Goddess, but Patty wasn’t there. Kristen noticed me looking, and said, “Patty found Camille when she got here. She has third period lunch. Anyway, the two girls left together.”
A few people in my grade passed behind me. “Hey, Oogie!”
“Oogie?” Kristen asked.
I sighed. “He’s in the chorus. I think everybody in the school knows about that session I set up for you the first day. The guys in the chorus started calling me ‘Oogie’ after the ‘Ouga Chaka’ chorus of that song.”
“Oogie. That’s cute!”
“Don’t you start!” I cried, dismayed that even my own girlfriend would sink so low as to call me that.
I looked around the cafeteria for Sherry, but I couldn’t find her. I knew she had this period for lunch.
“Who are you looking for, Oogie?”
I sighed, resigned to the fact that Kristen now had a new pet name for me. At least it was better than that “Jimma” name that Patty had used for a day or two when I first met her and Camille. Patty had only used that name affectionately, and only for a very short period, but even so, I really preferred the name “Jim.”
“I was looking for Sherry. She usually has lunch this period.”
Kristen shrugged. I was glad that Kristen didn’t seem too jealous about Sherry right now.
“I have practice this afternoon,” I told Kristen, reminding her that my little jazz ensemble met after school.
“Patty said that she and Cammy would be sticking around after school as well. I’d like to know what Patty has planned.”
“So you won’t be watching our rehearsal? Amy will miss you.”
Amy was a piano player that had recently joined the jazz band on a recommendation from Mr. Proilet. She was a junior whose family apparently just moved into town during the summer. She was short and had black hair with vaguely Oriental looks. She played the piano flawlessly, although her only experience was with classical music. For her “improv” solos, she simply played chords, a trick that I taught her. I hoped that she’d learn to become more creative before our concert. Mr. Proilet, the music teacher, figured that the more fluid styles used in jazz may be useful for Amy.
Amy and Kristen hit it off immediately. Kristen usually sat next to Amy, careful not to get in the way when she was playing. The two talked together softly and unobtrusively when I was focusing on other musicians during practice.
“I’ll try to sneak in sometime,” Kristen said.
Kristen managed to sneak in about fifteen minutes into the rehearsal. I saw Amy’s eyes light up when she noticed Kristen walking over to her.
One of Amy’s qualities was extreme shyness. She never spoke to me or anybody else—except Kristen—unless she had to answer a direct question, and even then, she spoke as little as possible—just enough to answer the question.
Kristen, on the other hand, seemed to click with Amy. I never asked her the secret in getting through to Amy, and made a mental note to do so in the future.
The band was shaping up nicely, and we had a couple of students working lights and audio electronics. Our concert in a couple of months was destined to be a true work of art.
At the end of rehearsal, I received a couple of other suggestions for songs for the concert, and I turned to the people making the suggestions and asked if they could set up the start of a master score for me. The students weren’t particularly happy about that. I think they expected me to do all the scoring, but if I did that, how would the other students learn, right? I told them that I’d be quite willing to help, either during music class at third period, or maybe occasionally during fourth period or after school. I also mentioned that Mr. Proilet might be able to help.
I finally let the band go, and Kristen ran up to me. “The band is sounding really great, Oogie!”
The nickname earned me some snickers from the band members, who were familiar with that name, but had the good sense not to call me that in public. However, now that Kristen publicly broke the unofficial code of silence, everybody in the band would make it a point to say goodbye to me, as in, “See you around, Oogie.”
“Thanks a lot,” I sighed later to Kristen. “The name ‘Oogie’ will help a lot with discipline.”
“I figured you’d need a challenge, Oogie.”
I sighed, resigned to the fact that this new nickname would probably stick. Why did I have to say anything to Kristen about that name?
Kristen drove me home. Since it was Thursday, the two of us wouldn’t be doing anything together. It didn’t bother me, really. I had Friday and Saturday night to look forward to, with Kristen and me spending real quality time together.
The next weekend had Kristen and me changing our schedule.
Monday was my step-sister Merry’s birthday, and she was going to have a party on Saturday. The weather cooperated; although it was cool, there wasn’t any sign of impending rain.
Merry invited a few girls from her school to a picnic at the park near our house. My parents were chaperons, and Kristen and I volunteered to help as well.
At first, the other girls seemed a bit daunted by Kristen. She was, after all, about three or four years older than most of them, which was an eternity for budding teenagers. Kristen managed to win them over by being her usual lovely self and I found that she had an impressive mind for remembering all the girls’ names (an ability that I to this day have yet to master).
Kristen brought along a couple of dodge balls and some chalk, and the girls drew “four square” courts in the mostly deserted parking lot. Kristen also had a silver coach’s whistle and volunteered to referee the game.
After watching the girls for a few rounds, I picked up the rules to the game. Kristen produced another whistle for me, and four more girls set up another court nearby.
Merry’s father had the job to start the grill and cook hamburgers and hot dogs. After an hour or so, the food was ready. Kristen and I whistled the girls back to the picnic tables, where my mother had potato salad, coleslaw, macaroni salad, Frito’s, and potato chips set out for the girls.
After lunch, the girls went onto the grass with a couple of Frisbees. I watched in amusement as the girls threw the discs in many directions except for where they intended them to go. Watching that reminded me of Marla and Doreen, the two girls that Jack and I met a month back at this same park. I looked wistfully at the willow tree where I had taken liberties with Marla, and once again felt a twinge of guilt at my boorish behavior back then.