Drummer Girl

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© Karen Bass, 2011

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright
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www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll-free to 1-800-893-5777.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Edited by Laura Peetoom

Designed by Michel Vrana

Typeset by Susan Buck

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Bass, Karen, 1962-

Drummer girl / Karen Bass.

ISBN 978-1-55050-462-0

I. Title.

PS8603.A795D78 2011 jC813'.6 C2011-903836-6

Available in Canada from:

www.coteaubooks.com

2517 Victoria Avenue, Regina, Saskatchewan Canada S4P 0T2

Publishers Group, Vancouver, British Columbia Canada V6V 1N2

Available in the US from:

Orca Book Publishers www.orcabook.com 1-800-210-5277

Coteau Books gratefully acknowledges the financial support of its publishing

program by: the Saskatchewan Arts Board, the Canada Council for the Arts, the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the City of Regina Arts Commission.

Dedication

To Mom,

for always encouraging my artistic endeavours.

1 |
off beat

Sid stood rooted to the lawn and considered that this might be the worst idea in the history of Edwards High School. Okay, maybe not in the whole school's history. But definitely in hers.

The house before her throbbed with an insistent bass beat, an umbilical cord of sound that wouldn't release her. When the open windows began to pump out a wicked drum solo, Sid groaned quietly and took a hesitant step forward, drawn by the pulse.

Why had she let Taylor bully her into this? He'd said that all the guys from The Fourth Down were going to be here and it was her best chance out of school to tell them she wanted to be their drummer. She'd argued it was going to be a jock party. Beer guzzling, muscle-flexing jocks with cheerleader girlfriends in micro-minis and skimpy tops. “Yeah,” Taylor had sighed. “I wish I could go. Live it for both of us, Sid. It's gonna be a blow-out.”

So here she was. But instead of being eager to join the throng inside, she gaped at the shadows moving across
the windows.

Someone bumped her shoulder as he brushed by. He half turned, then pointed at Sid's
t
-shirt. “In Flames. What's that? How you're going down tonight?” He burst into laughter, apparently overcome by his own wit, and walked away. Stumbled, actually, beer bottle in hand. Sid managed to offer him a half-hearted sneer.

The music melted into a sickly pop tune with no beat to speak of. It made Sid's feet want to pound out a retreat. But the chance to talk to the guys in the band kept her in place. She stuffed her hands in her cargo pockets and mentally began to gather her courage.

A black wall materialized in front of her. She looked up to see Narain grinning. “Hey, Sid. You look ready to bail. Taylor warned me you might.”

That did it. She was out of here. She gave a smile that was all grimace and tried to step around him. He showed why he was a great basketball guard, sidestepping to block her again. Before she could feint past him, he grabbed her shoulders, turned her around and began marching her toward the
party house.

“I don't know why I'm friends with you and Tay. Let me go, you thug,” Sid said. “Just because you're taller than me doesn't mean you can push me around.”

“I'm doing it for your own good, Sid. Come on. Not only is
tfd
inside, but I heard that someone's looking for you. You know you'll regret it if you don't find out who it is.”

Sid barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Why don't you just tell me who it is?”

“'I don't know. I heard it from someone who heard it from someone.”

Sid dug in her heels and brought them both to a stop. “Didn't you ever play that gossip game in elementary? You know, someone whispers something, it goes around the circle and always ends up way different from that first whisper. I'm going to walk in that house and find out there is no
someone
.”

“Sure there is. I trust my source.”

Sid glared up at her friend. “You can never trust a snitch.”

Narain laughed. His teeth flashed white in his milk chocolate face. “You're scared.”

“Do you blame me? That's a houseful of jocks. They tackle things for fun.”

“You swing the meanest hammer in carpentry class. They're the ones who should be scared.”

A snort escaped out Sid's nose. This time she did roll her eyes. “Fine. I'll go in. But if I don't find the band, secret admirer or not, I'm leaving without you.”

Narain grinned. “Lelah is probably already there, waiting for me to dance her off her feet, so I can't say I'd notice you leaving anyway, especially if there's a slow song playing.”

Sid hit him on the shoulder. “Jerk.”

The sprawling house was set deep in a large lot, and the noise didn't start getting loud until they were halfway up the long sidewalk. Which was likely why no neighbours had called the cops. When Narain opened the door, the music and voices rolled over them. People were shouting to be heard. Narain didn't try to compete. Instead he motioned for Sid to take a walk around. She nodded, suddenly feeling too tongue-tied to talk, even if she wanted to. Narain wedged his way through a cluster of laughing guys on his way to the makeshift dance floor in what looked to be a dining room with the table pushed to the side.

Sid tried to scope the place. She wasn't short, but 5'6" wasn't tall enough to see anything in this crowd. A slow song wafted from the dance floor. No doubt as to what Narain was doing now. Sid sighed and moved down a hallway that seemed to separate the two halves of the house. She recognized a few faces from her classes, a few more from the sports team portraits she'd seen in the school paper, but no one she ever talked to besides Narain. Where would the band members hang out? Rocklin, the leader, was a football player. Was the party segregated by sports teams?

Half a dozen giggling girls tumbled out of a bathroom and forced Sid up against the wall. They didn't notice, turning
to wave at some guys near the front door. Off to the left
somewhere, the chant of “Chug, chug, chug,” made Sid wonder where the cameras were. This was the kind of high school
party you saw in movies; they weren't supposed to really happen.

The doorway the chanting had come from was completely clogged. Rocklin was tall but even on her tiptoes Sid didn't spot him inside. She thought she glimpsed Wes Remichuk, which was reason enough to look elsewhere. The hallway reeked of beer. She kept inching toward the back of the house, hoping now to find some fresh air. She glanced down a hallway to what looked to be bedrooms, and veered the other way.

Shrieks caused the crowd around Sid to surge toward an open door, carrying her along. She stumbled onto a stone patio. Her eyes widened at the sight of girls jostling each other and falling, fully clothed, into a kidney-shaped pool while guys stood beside the water and hooted. No doubt hoping some of the girls weren't wearing bras.

Someone walked by and pushed a beer into Sid's hands. She almost dropped it before her fingers found a grip. The bottle felt like a shield. If she held it, no one would push anything else at her. Last September, she and Taylor had renewed their vow to not be stupid about booze. Taylor's cousin had been killed by a drunk driver, so he was kind of touchy on the subject. Sid figured she drummed better when her head was clear.

Where was the band? Or the guy who was supposedly interested? She leaned against the wall under a motion-sensor light and studied the group by the pool, thankful none of the oglers looked her way. No one looked her way. Was she invisible?

Maybe she'd dressed wrong. Any of the girls she'd seen were wearing jeans and tight tops, some with midriffs showing. No band
t
-shirts.
But I like In Flames. Daniel Svensson is an awesome speed drummer.

Feeling more than ever that she didn't belong at this party, Sid swung around the empty side of the pool. From the patio, three steps led down to a long stretch of grass. Sid settled on the middle step and set the beer bottle between her sneakers. She needed to think, to figure out how to find the band in that chaos. Was it too much to hope that they might show up on the patio? As for Mr. Interested... He could find her or not, it was up to him.

She took a sip of beer and wrinkled her nose at the taste. Behind her, a guy whooped. This was followed by a massive splash. The girls screamed some more – why didn't they just get out? – and a guy shouted that they should all skinny dip. This suggestion was met with yells of “You do it,” and “We need more beer!”

Talking to Rocklin in school was looking better and better. The strains of a Metallica song floated out from the house. Sid tapped her knee to the beat.

A foot scrapped on stone, just behind Sid. Mr. Interested? Her fingers froze, then lowered to grip her knee. Don't look nervous, she thought, but her grip didn't loosen. Someone in shorts that topped impossibly long legs sat beside her. Smooth, hairless legs.

A slightly husky voice said, “I'm glad you came.”

Sid turned her head. She knew that slender face, straight blond hair that was usually tied in a pony tail but tonight hung loose. Volleyball team. Sid searched her memory for a name. Joanne. That was it. She offered a smile. “Yeah. I heard someone was looking for me...” She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see some shy guy hanging back.

Joanne's look softened. “I thought you knew. It was me.”

2 |
rudiments

Sid struck her crash cymbal. Hard.
Clang-ang-ang!

She had practised quietly for over an hour, covering the rudiments, but now she vented her feelings in a storm of sound. Under her touch, the drums released a wild rhythm that vibrated through the air, through her skin, through her
bones into her core. She played by instinct, every solo she'd ever practised mixing and sifting and sliding into new variations.

Devin would have known cf to handle that party last night, how to play it cool. All she had wanted was to let Rocklin know she'd like to try out as The Fourth Down's new drummer. Those guys were the suns of cool and everyone else revolved around them. With his basketball skills, Narain was closer to the centre; she was more like Neptune, on the outskirts but given the nod. (How much of that was because everyone knew she was Devin's sister?) Today she felt as rejected as Pluto, downgraded by experts, no longer a planet.

Her drum kit wasn't big, only five pieces plus cymbals. She knew where each drum was without looking so she played with her eyes slitted, the drums vague shadows in her vision. The sound rose, fell, rose again. Each phrase longer and more intense, until there was no ebb – nothing but the thunder of the bass, the rattle of the toms punctuated by cymbal crashes. Her arms ached. She kept drumming.

The rhythm consumed her. Seeped from the earth, through the basement and the soles of her feet. Surged through her hands. She was the beat's instrument –

A towel hit Sid in the face. She almost fell off her throne. Her foot jerked forward to restore balance, striking the bass drum pedal. A single boom echoed through the room.

Sid breathed hard. She laid her sticks on the snare drum, plucked the towel off her lap, wiped the sweat from her eyes and peered at Taylor. “What're you doing? You scared the crap out of me.”

More sweat dripped into her eyes. She wiped it away, then towelled her hair. She could feel a tiny rivulet running down her spine and rubbed the back of her
t
-shirt. The movement made her realize how sore her arms were.

Taylor stood in the middle of the room with his hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket and shook his head slowly.

“What?” she snapped.

“That was really...intense. I don't know if it was music, but it sure was intense.”

“What's that? Your word of the day?”

He grinned. “Sure. So what's on your mind that has you so
intense?
Or should I say tense?”

The tone was serious but the grin balanced it, made the question less of a threat. Sid stepped from behind her drums and flung herself on the old green sofa that hunkered between the only two windows in the room. Her dad had added storm windows on the outside hoping to muffle the sound of her drums so their neighbour didn't complain.

She laid her forearm across her eyes and thought about his question.

“Does it have anything to do with the party last night?
Wish I could've gone. Family gigs are boring. Narain said he walked with you into the house but lost track of you after that.”

“He only had eyes for Lelah.”

“Ha! True. Did you get to talk to one of the guys from
tfd
?”

“No. I couldn't even find them.”

“Then why? Wait, let me guess. Did some Mr. Mysterious want to hook up?”

Sid heard the grin in his voice. “No. But Ms. Mysterious did.” No response to that. Sid kept her arm firmly in place. It was easier to talk in the dark. “She thought I was gay because I...hit things. I'd never thought of carpentry and drumming as hitting things. I'd been so pumped up to get to talk to the band that it threw me. I brushed her off and left.”
Threw
– hah. The incident had freaked her out, but she wasn't going to tell anyone that.

Taylor still didn't respond. She rolled onto her side and tucked her arm under her head. Taylor now sat cross-legged on the hideous red shag rug that she could never talk her dad into replacing. With elbows on knees, he propped his chin on folded hands. His expression was blank. His expression was never blank. Guys always tried to get him to play poker because his face was so easy to read. Fortunately for him and his cash, he knew it.

She propped herself up on her elbow. “You don't seem surprised that some volleyball chick thought I might want to date.”

“What do you want me to say, Sid?”

“Do you think I'm gay?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not, but why do people think I should be? Why do
you
think I should be?”

“I don't know. You just aren't interested in, you know, girl stuff.
Any
girl stuff. You don't even have any friends who are girls.”

Sid glanced down at her band
t
-shirt and baggy cargoes. Girl stuff. Did Taylor mean clothes and makeup and all that? What was wrong with the way she dressed? It was the same way Devin dressed. And it wasn't like she had a mom around to teach her. “So? Girls are interested in all sorts of things. It's like how Narain says that sometimes people will be surprised he doesn't have an accent because they think he looks like he should. Well, I should be able to dress or act any way I want without someone deciding it means something it doesn't.”

Taylor's expression rippled with uncertainty. He straightened and shrugged. “No big deal, Sid. Now Ms. Mysterious knows you're not interested.”

“Yeah. You're right.” Sid swung into a sitting position and braced her hands on the seat of the sofa. Her shoulders were throbbing from the extended workout. So were her wrists, and bending them sent sharp pains up her arms, so she leaned back and rubbed them. Her mind jumped back to The Fourth Down. “Now how am I supposed to get the band's attention? Only the lead guitar is in our grade and I don't have any classes with him. They're totally unapproachable at school unless you're, well, way cooler than I am. That party was my big chance and I blew it because I panicked.”

“There'll be more parties.”

“But they're looking for a drummer
now.
I'm so sick of practising in the basement, Tay. It was great when Devin was home and I could jam with his band, but since he left for college it's been brutal. I've got to get in with
tfd
. I'm good enough now. I'm ready to play. Really
play.
” She sighed.

“I don't know if
tfd
's the best choice...”

“But they
are
the best, around here anyway. And that's what I want: a shot at being best.”

He looked skeptical. “They're really into that rock ‘n roll party image.” Everyone knew
tfd
's drummer had been drunk when he'd slammed into that light standard. Taylor had been friends with the guy back in elementary school and they'd stayed friendly. The funeral had shaken Taylor up, having happened less than a year after his cousin died the same way.

Sid searched for words to assure him that she'd never fall into that; she only wanted to play. Before she could speak, Taylor pushed to his feet. “While you're planning your big break I gotta show you something.” He tugged at his jeans as a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Sid stood, relieved he'd changed the subject. With or without his help, she'd find a way to get in tight with the band. She rolled her shoulders and stretched her hands toward the low tiled ceiling, almost touching it.

Taylor laughed. “Next time you beat the hell out of your drums, you might wanna wear a different shirt.”

Hands still above her head, Sid eyed her white
t
-shirt and armpit stains the size of dinner plates. “Yeah. I see what you mean. Rush let me down.” She sniffed. “Don't get too close.”

He laughed again and headed for the stairs. “You can rinse off before we go out.”

“Are we going out?”

He glanced over his shoulder, tripped on the bottom step and fell forward with a loud “oof.” Sid suppressed a smile. Taylor was the clumsiest guy she knew. He always laughed along if anyone laughed at him, but she knew it bugged him sometimes. The more he tried to be coordinated, the more spectacularly he failed. Sid still cringed to recall her one attempt to teach Taylor to play the drums.

They clambered up the stairs and into the kitchen. Taylor said, “Hey, Mr. J.” That's what he always called Sid's dad, even though their last name was Crowley. J for James.

“Hey, yourself, Taylor. Got Thor to stop making thunder, did you?”

“Funny, Dad.” Sid glanced at the automatic coffeemaker. “On what, your fourth cup? I thought you said you were cutting back.”

“I am.” He snapped the newspaper and turned the page. “Usually I've had six cups by now.”

“Four's probably good for the day then, right?” Before James could answer, Sid removed the carafe from the hot plate and dumped the rest of the coffee down the sink. “You're the one who told me caffeine's hard on the stomach.” She eyed the roll of antacid tablets by his cup but didn't say anything. He knew she thought he should go to the doctor.

James only snapped the paper again. “Don't you two have somewhere to go?”

“Yup,” Taylor answered. “As soon as Sid showers.”

Sid took the hint. Ten minutes later she was back in the kitchen where Taylor and James were discussing the cars for sale in the classifieds.

Sid cleared her throat to get their attention, “Where are we going, Taylor?”

He smiled. “Trust me.”

“Guys always say that just before they get you into trouble.”

“I don't get you into trouble...” His brow wrinkled. “Intentionally.”

James laughed. Taylor added, “Mr. J knows my plan so everything's cool.”

Sid's dad nodded. Taylor smiled at her as he passed, bumped his shoulder against a corner and recovered with a quick sidestep. Sid followed at a safe distance, in case Taylor rebounded off something. When they reached the sidewalk, she jogged a few steps to catch up.

“Not going to tell me?” she asked.

“We're going to my place.”

“Three whole houses away from home. How will I survive the adventure?”

“With your acid tongue ready to cut through any obstacle.”

“Acid tongue. That's harsh.”

Taylor grinned. “You should join the Fantastic Four. No villain could stand against you.”

“But wouldn't that put the original four out of a job?”

“Hm. You're right. Guess you better stay on as my sidekick, instead.”

“What? I thought you were mine.”

Taylor grinned again. They reached his house and were halfway up the driveway when Sid noticed the lump draped by a canvas tarp. “Your bike is out of the garage?”

“Yup. Dad and I finished it last night after the birthday party.”

“I didn't think you'd ever get it running.” Part of her had
hoped
they'd never get it running. Clumsy as he was on two feet, what would he be like on a motorized vehicle that only had two wheels? She almost shuddered at the thought.

Taylor flung the tarp off with the flashiness of a magician. “Ta da!”

Sid blinked and said the first thing that came to mind. “Fenders are still a little rusty.”

“Details, details. You won't find any rust on the engine.” He tossed her one of two helmets that were on the seat.

She caught it and hugged it against her stomach. “You expect me to ride that thing?”

“We'd look stupid pushing it, especially wearing helmets.”

“I'm not so sure about this, Tay.”

He put his grey helmet on and fastened the strap. He zipped up his leather jacket. “Why not? I have my licence. And my folks made me take that motorcycle safety course.”

“But...you're still you.”

He scowled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He mounted the bike and wedged the kickstand into place with his heel. “You gonna be my sidekick on this adventure or not?”

Sid sighed and ran her hand over the helmet. Shiny black. Taylor had even put a Metallica sticker on it for her. She slipped on the helmet before she could second-guess herself. Taylor was smiling as he kick-started the bike, which roared to life, immediately subsiding to a quiet rumble.

Taylor patted the seat behind him and she got on, nodding when he showed her the foot pegs.
We're going to crash and die on the first corner.

He glanced back and said, “Ready?” Sid bit her lip and nodded again.

She'd ridden a few times before on bikes, usually with Devin's friends. Never with Taylor, the clumsiest guy she knew. Her heart began to flutter erratically against her ribs. She reached around his waist and laced her fingers together. This was going to hurt. So much.