"Where were you this morning?" I asked Kristen. "Patty and I looked all over for you."
Kristen looked at me, "Have you seen Dale today?"
Up until yesterday, I didn’t even know what Dale looked like. "No…"
Kristen smiled. "You probably won’t."
I tried to get more information out of Kristen, but she was adamant about not talking.
It was amazing. Kristen was the one girl that I knew that could actually keep a secret. First, she was cooking up a surprise for me with Patty, and not giving me any kind of clue what she had planned. Next, this strange thing about Dale? What had happened there? Did Kristen put Dale into the hospital?
I changed the subject, not wanting to press Kristen any further. Maybe I could find out if I spent some private time with her, if she felt she could trust me.
Lunch went pretty fast; too fast for me. Time just seemed to fly when Kristen and I were together. We had completely forgotten about Patty and Toby, but they were off on their own little world themselves.
At the end of the day, Kristen was waiting by her Camaro. I noticed Patty’s car leaving, Toby on the passenger side.
I was feeling happy for Patty. Just a month ago, Patty thought that she’d live the life of a hermit. And now she was confidant enough to be going out on a date in two days.
I much preferred to drive with Kristen, anyway. Her red Camaro was really bitchin' and turned heads as she drove past, and I luxuriated in the afterglow.
Kristen drove me straight home, saying that she had some stuff to take care of at home. I was very disappointed, since I hadn’t been spending a lot of time with her.
At home, Merry had a disappointed look on her face. "Kristen left and took the Camaro!"
"She’ll be around again," I promised Merry.
At dinner, my mom asked me what I was going to do for my birthday. It was next week. I originally had planned to go to the movies with Jack. Then, after discovering my lucky tickets, I thought maybe I’d do a special "Wednesday Night" with the girls, something I’d never tell my mother about.
Now, I was undecided. I didn’t know if Kristen even knew my birthday was next week, and I didn’t want to tell her. I’d only be a year younger than her, at least for the moment, and I wanted it to be a surprise.
I realized that I hadn’t answered my mother. "I don’t know. Maybe watch a movie or something."
"Doesn’t sound all that exciting," my mother said.
I shrugged. "Parties are overrated, Mom. Boys don’t have them at my age."
My mother looked at me and shrugged.
Mercifully, the subject changed.
The next morning, I received my morning suckle from Patty. I knew that I was going to miss that gentle sucking action that she used due to her love of the taste of my cock, but Monday night would be the last time she’d be feeling that effect. Kristen’s obvious jealousy of me giving Patty a "taste" of Kristen’s "punishment" had made me make a vow that I would never allow Patty to feel that way about my penis again. I knew that I would definitely miss that gentle, loving, sucking action, but Kristen was more important to me than that.
I repaid Patty by treating her to an extra workout with her body massage. I massaged both the front and back, but never went close to her crotch. Again, I wanted my next time to be with Kristen.
At school, Kristen met the two of us in the school parking lot. We kissed, briefly, before heading to our respective classes.
At third period, Mr. Proilet found me before class. He fished around his drawer, pulling out a battery operated cassette deck. "Can you explain about this?" He pressed the PLAY button, and I heard the hiss of tape noise. It wasn’t a good quality tape. "Ouga Chaka… Ouga, Ouga…"
Oh my god! Where did Mr. Proilet get a copy of that tape? I realized from the fact that the rehearsal didn’t have as full a chant at the start (due to the larger chorus that had assembled later) that this was almost definitely the rehearsal of the special session that I had set up for Kristen. I had somehow forgotten to get those tapes.
My teacher smiled and pressed the STOP button, and then pressed REWIND. "Sound familiar?"
"Yeah," I said sheepishly. "I made it here Wednesday afternoon."
"I see. That was your little project, huh? Who did the arrangement?"
"I did. I wrote the conductor’s score the previous night, and transcribed the individual parts during music class…"
My teacher interrupted me. "You’re telling me you arranged this, and set up this recording in less than twenty-four hours?"
"Yeah," I admitted. "But you’re only listening to the rehearsal, and it sounds like a copy of a copy at best." I went fishing in my attaché case, and found my copy of the final master. "Here…" I gave Mr. Proilet the second master copy of the actual session. "This one sounds better."
Without a word, Mr. Proilet popped out his cassette and put in mine. "Ouga Chaka… Ouga, Ouga…"
I clenched my eyes. I hadn’t yet gotten up the nerve to actually listen to the tape. Everybody in the band room quieted down as the tape played. Some people pointed at me, a few of them having attended the actual recording.
God! I hate hearing my voice on tape! Roy was right about that, but I really thought my voice stank. It sounded a bit too high to be my voice. There was no way that anybody would confuse my voice with Blue Swede’s.
I watched my teacher shake his head. "You’re quite talented, boy. Mr. Thurd said you were good, but he didn’t mention your ability to compose…"
"I didn’t compose anything!" I protested. "I just listened to the record…"
My teacher wasn’t hearing it. "I know professional musicians that can’t do as good a job with the people you had access to in such a short period of time! I know that I’ll have difficulty getting this group of students playing well enough for the Christmas concert."
"You think it’s good?"
"I think it’s great!" Mr. Proilet said. "How many tracks did you lay down for the final mix?"
"Two stereo. I didn’t know anybody that could handle a sound board, so I used the binaural mikes. I put the unit on the shelf up behind where the conductor stands."
The two of us turned to see the shelf I was referring to.
"You seem to be able to do quite well given the limitations you had to work with."
I was getting very embarrassed by the teacher’s praise. I noticed that the entire class seemed to be listening to the exchange. I just shrugged.
"Would you like to do more stuff like that?"
"Really?" I asked.
"Sure. And I know some seniors that can handle the electronics for you. How does next Wednesday sound? After school?"
Next Wednesday was my birthday. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to start something like that on that day. After all, I might still want to go out to a movie or something. "How about Thursday? I might be busy on Wednesday."
The teacher grinned. "Thursday after school it is."
I shrugged.
"You can find your instrument now, Mr. Crittenhouse," Mr. Proilet said, grinning.
At lunch, I told Kristen about next Thursday, and she seemed very happy for me. "That tape you gave me was wonderful. I listen to it every night, while I look at that picture. I know you’re singing to me."
"Picture?" I asked, confused.
"The one taken when you were punishing me. I… I look at it every day. It makes me… you know… And now I listen to your tape when I look at it. It’s almost as if you are there with me, and I imagine we’re together…"
"Oh," I said, quietly. I had thought I removed that compulsion from her, but now I remembered that you couldn’t completely cancel the effects of the tickets.