From the Top - Chapter 22

I’d spent a lot of time over the last week working on Willie’s last song, trying to nail down the sound of it. Even a week after his funeral, it was nice to have this little piece of connection with him. The problem was, Willie and I had very different voices, and it felt wrong trying to finish this just by emulating what he did. I wanted to find a way to make it my own while still honoring him, and it was proving to be quite the challenge.

Which, in and of itself, was enjoyable and a nice way to spend my Sunday morning. As with every weekend, I had a busy day in front of me. I had band practice, followed by training with Chef at the Blue Ridge and our gig that night, so it was nice to have a little bit of quiet before things got started.

Or at least, it had been quiet. I had about two seconds of warning, with the sound of pounding footsteps coming down the hall, that my quiet time was going to change. My door suddenly burst open, slamming into the wall with a crash that made me jump.

Hanna’s mom stood in the doorway, face flushed, practically boiling over as she demanded, “Charlie, did you know about this?”

She was usually so composed that I was almost more surprised by her fury than I was by the door banging open.

Setting my guitar down, I asked, “Know about what?”

“About Hanna and that … that professor!”

She spat the last word like a curse.

Hanna had taken me seriously and told her. I hadn’t been bluffing and was going to give her till the end of the day before I said something and was glad I didn’t have to. I hadn’t expected this reaction, however, and was a little off-kilter as a result.

“Umm … yeah,” I hesitantly admitted. “I found out about a month ago. Hanna didn’t want me to say anything, but I told her she had to tell you herself by this weekend or I would. It’s what that fight we had after Willie’s funeral was about.”

Mrs. Phillips’ face turned an even deeper shade of red. “She’s been dating her professor for a month and you knew?!”

Her voice rose to a near shriek.

I held up my hands defensively, “I’m sorry; I know I shouldn’t have kept it from you but I was trying to give Hanna a chance to handle it herself. I thought she’d listen to me. Clearly, that was a mistake.”

“You’re darn right it was a mistake!” Mrs. Phillips exploded. “That … that predator has been taking advantage of my daughter and … I can’t believe this.”

“I did try to get her to end it, I swear. I told her it was wrong and she could get expelled if anyone found out.”

“Get expelled? That’s the least of what could happen. These men … they’re just out there, preying on kids, and they get away with it. Her brain isn’t … I … he …”

She was shaking with rage, to the point where she wasn’t even able to form a coherent sentence by the end of the rant.

“I know, and I agree. But Hanna’s an adult, and she’s going to do what she wants to do. I mean, we saw that with Troy, although this is ten times worse.”

“There are rules against this. There has to be. If they don’t fire him, I’m going to sue that damn school for every penny they’re worth for letting this predator near students!”

I held up my hands again, trying to calm her down, “I know you’re upset, but I think you need to take a breath here before you do anything rash.”

She scowled at me. “Rash? This predator has been taking advantage of my daughter! I’m not going to just sit here and do nothing!”

“I understand, believe me. But going nuclear right off the bat might not be the best move.”

“Oh? And why is that?” she said, putting her hands on her hips and turning her anger on me again.

I hesitated. I didn’t actually want to put myself in the middle of this, which is why I wanted Hanna to be the one to talk to her mom instead of me. And yet, here I was.

Choosing my words carefully, I said, “Well, for starters, there’s no guarantee the professor would actually get fired. Without solid proof, it could end up being your word against his and Hanna’s. She thinks she loves him, so you know she’ll back him up. We saw that with Troy. And even if he did get fired, he might not go quietly. Someone like him, he could try to retaliate if he thinks his career is being ruined.”

Mrs. Phillips started to interject, but I pushed on.

“It’s not just that a professor is dating a student, it’s also that a student is dating her professor. The college will frown on both of them, and that’s the kind of label that can follow someone the rest of their lives. Plus, there’s Hanna to consider. If you go in guns blazing, it’s going to damage your relationship with her pretty badly. She’s already mad at me for making her tell you the truth. If you don’t handle this right, you could lose any trust she has in you. That’s the last thing you want when she’s in a vulnerable position.”

I paused, letting that sink in. Mrs. Phillips was still fuming, but she seemed to be listening.

“I’m not saying you should do nothing. But, in the end, she’s the only one who can decide if she still wants to date him. Well, her and Professor Cross. Getting in between them will only cause her to blame you for the relationship not working out, instead of realizing what a scumbag he is when he inevitably ends it. We both know this is going to end, eventually. A guy who dates his students isn’t the kind of guy to build long-term relationships with them. If we burn our bridges with Hanna now, we won’t be able to be there for her when things fall apart.”

Mrs. Phillips stared at me for a long moment, still visibly furious, but her posture relaxed ever so slightly as I continued.

“I know you just want to protect Hanna,” I said gently. “That’s what we all want, here. But if we’re smart about this, maybe we can get this guy removed without things blowing up, and without it hurting Hanna more than she’s going to inevitably be hurt anyway.”

Mrs. Phillips was silent for a long moment as she processed what I’d said. I could see the gears turning in her head. Finally, she let out an aggravated sigh and her posture deflated slightly.

“It’s infuriating when you’re reasonable,” she said reluctantly.

“Trust me; I don’t like it any more than you do. I wanted to be the one screaming and tearing everything down, too, but … I mostly just want Hanna to be okay. And I’m not suggesting we do nothing. Just … that we be smart about how we handle this.”

Mrs. Phillips started pacing back and forth, shaking her head, “I just can’t believe this. That my little girl would get herself into such a mess. And with her professor of all people!”

“I know,” I said. “Believe me; I was just as shocked when I found out.”

“How could she be so stupid? She knows better than this!”

“She does,” I agreed. “But sometimes, when emotions get involved, logic goes out the window. Especially for someone Hanna’s age. I mean, speaking as a teen myself, we’re a little unhinged.”

Mrs. Phillips sighed heavily, then added, “I guess. Still, that’s no excuse for such appalling judgment on her part. Or on his! She’s just a child compared to him. Fine. Fine. I won’t do anything rash. Sorry about yelling at you; I know this isn’t your fault. I just got so mad …”

“No problem. Happy to be a punching bag,” I said, giving her a smile.

“Well, I suppose there’s nothing to be done right now except have a very serious talk with Hanna about appropriate relationships and judgment.”

“Good luck with that. For what it’s worth, I really was going to tell you today if she didn’t. I gave her a deadline because I didn’t want to break her trust, but I wasn’t about to just let this continue without you knowing.”

She nodded. “I appreciate you looking out for Hanna. I just wish she had come to me herself.”

I just shrugged. What could I say?

“All right, I’m done with my tirade. You go back to your music,” she said, giving me a tired smile and pulling my door closed much more softly than she’d opened it.

That could have gone a lot worse. I was a little worried that she might call the school once Hanna told her, which would almost certainly get Hanna kicked out, or at least pressured not to come back. Hanna and her mom usually had a great relationship, and I’d hoped there was a way to salvage this without ruining that. At least now it was out in the open.

So much for my quiet morning.

***

Thursday, I was back in the principal’s office, but at least this time, it was of my own volition. He’d given me tentative permission after the audition to go to Hollywood and miss a week and a half of school, but he’d couched it with enough qualifiers I felt like the rug could still be pulled out from under me.

He’d told me to come back on the last day before I was supposed to leave to see if I’d managed to keep my grades where they needed to be and meet whatever expectations my teachers had of how I needed to prepare to be gone. While I thought I’d done everything and there shouldn’t be any problems, I’d decided to come in one day early, to give myself a little room should the unexpected happen. If I’d waited until after school Friday and he’d told me no, I couldn’t go, I’d basically have three hours to try and work something out with the production company or figure out what I was going to do. This way, I’d at least have an entire day to fix it. Considering how my luck had been over the past few years, I wanted to be prepared for the worst.

Unfortunately, I’d caught him off guard. He’d been really prepared the other times I’d been summoned to his office, but he clearly hadn’t been ready for me to jump the gun, which left me sitting in one of the chairs across his desk, watching him flip through a stack of papers as he ‘took a quick peek to make sure he knew where everything was.’ I took that as principal-ese for ‘I haven’t even looked into this yet, so wait while I figure out what’s going on.’

Finally, he set the papers down and folded his hands on top of them, which seemed to be his trademark ‘I’m getting real with you, fellow human’ posture.

“I’ve spoken with all of your teachers and I’m pleased to say that the reports back have been quite positive.”

Step one, accomplished.

“It seems clear you’ve put in considerable effort since we first talked to get your grades back to where they need to be. All of your teachers confirmed you’ve completed assignments early and have generally shown increased focus and responsibility in preparing for your upcoming absence.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I said. “I really tried to stay on top of everything. I didn’t want there to be any reason I couldn’t go.”

“Yes, I can certainly see that. And I’m happy to tell you that I’m fully approving your absence for the next two weeks.”

I broke into a wide smile. Finally, no ifs. No buts. No ‘upon further reflection.’ Of course, nothing is ever that easy.

“Of course,” Dr. Wallace continued, “while you won’t be working remotely, I know your teachers have provided materials for you to work on while you’re gone. When you return, you’ll still be expected to take any quizzes or tests that occurred during the time you were away.”

“I know.”

“Good,” he said, clearly seeing the slight annoyance on my face. “I’m not trying to make this difficult on you, Charlie. I understand there will be a lot going on for you while you’re out there. You’ll be in a high-pressure environment, surrounded by competitors and stress. It’s only natural you’ll want to focus all your mental energy on that.”

“But,” he said, plowing through whatever I was about to say to him. “You only get one shot at a good education. This year is critical in shaping your future and what college you’ll get into. I need you to remember where your priorities lie.”

“I know,” I said again.

“Let me be clear; you’re still expected to perform academically, even while you’re off in Hollywood. I’ll be checking in with your teachers regularly to monitor your progress on the assignments you’ll be taking with you. We’re not requiring you to submit anything while you’re gone, but … sending some of those back ahead of time would be a smart move on your part. Besides giving your teachers an idea of where you’re at and if you need additional assistance before you take any tests when you get back, it will show us that you’re taking this seriously.”

“I promise I’ll stay on top of everything. All the teachers gave me packets of work to complete while I’m gone, and I plan on spending time each night going through them.”

“Good man,” Dr. Wallace said approvingly. “With that attitude, I think you’ll do just fine. This is a great opportunity and we’re all very proud of you. Just remember you represent this school and community, not just yourself. Make us proud.”

“I will,” I said, standing up.

I mostly just wanted to get out of there. I was already on edge about the competition, the last thing I needed was more pressure.

“Best of luck in Hollywood, Charlie. Stay focused, work hard, and we’ll see you back here ready to dive in when you return.”

“Thanks,” I said, and hustled out of the office.

***

“Thank you,” I said into the microphone. “You guys have been great tonight.”

The Blue Ridge was just about as full as it had ever been, with people halfway out the front door. Chef had put up a big sign by the highway saying that tonight was my last show before I left, and wishing me luck at the competition. People had gotten the memo, and both Friday night and tonight had been capacity crowds. That wasn’t saying much considering the Blue Ridge could only hold just over two hundred people, but it was nice to have the community turn out for me like this.

Chef was even outside the kitchen, giving me a thumbs-up as I finished, which hardly ever happens. He usually calls it a night as soon as the music starts and the dinner service ends, leaving the running of the bar and closing up to Vinney. Part of me had wanted to just go ahead and play out the full weekend like normal, but I still had to pack, and Mrs. Phillips had arranged a going-away party for Sunday afternoon, and I had to be in Asheville pretty early Monday morning for my flight to Los Angeles, so I’d gone with the smart option and made Saturday night my final performance.

“So, this is going to be the last time I play for y’all for a few weeks,” I said, the crowd quieting down to listen. “I’m heading out to LA tomorrow to compete on ‘The Stage’.”

I had to pause a moment as the crowd whooped and cheered.

“But don’t you worry, you’ll still have great music here while I’m gone. Dwight and the Willie Johnson Trio will be playing both my normal times and theirs tomorrow and next weekend. As an added bonus, Lyla and Seth,” I said, gesturing to my bandmates, “will be joining them, and they’ve promised to play some of our songs, so you’re not going to miss me too much.”

I paused again for more cheers.

“So come on out and show them the same love and support you always give me. Also, make sure to tune into ‘The Stage’ starting at the end of the month to hopefully see me make it through some rounds. It would mean the world to have my Blue Ridge family cheering me on from back home.”

I got the biggest response yet with that comment. Something my dad told me a long time ago was that the easiest way to get a cheer from a crowd was to name the venue or the city. It’s why you always hear the big acts come on with ‘Hello Cleveland,’ or whatever.

“Well, this has been an amazing send-off. Thank you all for always supporting me and my music. I hope I’ve made Wellsville proud so far; this town means the world to me. You know what, let’s end this night right with one more song!”

The crowd exploded into the loudest cheers yet. I picked Jesse James, which we hadn’t played in a few weeks at the Blue Ridge, and Lyla and Seth followed along without missing a beat. Maybe that was the benefit of having such a small catalog of songs. It was tough to forget them or have one you hadn’t played in years. It wasn’t One Night Stand, but it was a rock-heavy song and had a strong beat, so the crowd was on their feet, dancing with the music.

“Thank you, Wellsville! I love you guys!” I said, finishing up the impromptu encore and stepping off stage.

I made my way through the enthusiastic crowd, getting lots of congratulations, well wishes, and slaps on the back as I headed for the kitchen.

“Knock ‘em dead out there, Charlie!” Mr. Jensen, my history teacher, called out, giving me a thumbs-up.

It had happened a few times before, but it was always weird seeing one of my teachers in the crowd. Tonight, there seemed to be a lot of them. While I’d been playing, I saw Coach Dean, Ms. Seidel, my math teacher from last year, and Mrs. Becker, Kat’s swimming coach from last year.

We walked through the kitchen, trying not to get in the way of the guys who were breaking everything down and cleaning so they could go home for the night, and went through the back door. It wasn’t exactly cold outside yet, but it was definitely cooling down as winter approached, which felt perfect to me. The biggest downside of a packed room was how hot it got up on stage, even under the minimal lighting setup the Blue Ridge had.

I turned to Lyla and Seth as we stepped outside. “You guys were great tonight.”

“Thanks. That crowd was wild. I know it’s not a lot of people compared to some of the places we’ve played, but with them all packed in there, they got loud as hell,” Lyla said.

“No kidding. I was having trouble following Seth a few times. We really have to talk to Chef about getting some kind of in-ear monitor so I can hear you guys over the noise.”

“It’s usually not that much of a problem. I think people are just excited about you going off to Hollywood,” Seth said.

“Yeah, maybe. Hey, I wanted to say again that I’m sorry you guys can’t come with me. If there was a way we could do this as a whole band, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I know there’s that one show that allows bands and other stuff, but it doesn’t have the reach and I don’t think they start another season until next summer. I really did talk to Warren about it, but he said this was the best call.”

“We know,” Lyla said. “You’ve only apologized a hundred times. We know you’re doing this for all of us, and if you do well, you’re going to pull us along with you, Charlie. Even if that wasn’t true, Seth and I promised to stick with you, and we will. You’ve got to stop worrying about us and focus on doing what you need to do out there. What really doesn’t do us any good is if you get cut after just one week.”

“He’s traumatized by all of Marco’s bitching,” Seth said.

“I really am,” I said. “Okay, I’ll stop apologizing. I’ve talked to Dwight again, just to make sure, and he said he was positive you guys could play with him while I’m gone, so you can still make some money.”

“Yeah, he talked to us last night during the changeover,” Seth said. “He’s actually thinking we’d do some practices this week with the idea of letting Lyla take the front and do some of our songs and have his band back us up. Well, not us. I mean, we’re still trying to figure out how it’s going to work between Arnie and me. I mean, Howard can switch from bass to guitar, but two drums is kind of a lot.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” I said.

I was actually kicking myself mentally. I honestly hadn’t considered the makeup of Dwight and the guys when suggesting Lyla and Seth join them. Of course it was a problem adding a bass and a drum to a trio that already had a bass and a drum.

“It’s okay, Charlie,” Lyla said, reading my thoughts pretty clearly and putting a hand on my arm. “We know you’re doing your best, and both of us want as much of your attention on the competition as possible. That’s what matters here, and it’s what we need as much as you do. So focus on that.”

“Okay,” I said, still embarrassed that I’d been so self-centered … again.