Elegy - Chapter 19

Friday afternoon, I hadn’t heard back from Warren to find out if he had any luck, but I did hear something from Mr. Packer, although indirectly. It was lunchtime on a day I’d normally have gone to sit with Sydney. She’d made it clear she did not want me going over there, which put me in the kind of mood where I didn’t really want to be around other people.

Instead of going to my usual table with my friends, I headed towards the choir room, planning to talk to Mr. French about my interview. He might not have made it big, but he had a lot of friends in the industry, which gave him experience in this kind of thing.

I also wanted to sound him out on how to deal with Marco and the rest of the guys about the interview. Marco had blown a gasket over the interview with the paper in Asheville, and that only serviced one mid-sized city. This was a national, syndicated interview, and he wasn’t allowed to go because of how the contract was arranged. We might not have reached it yet, but we were closing in on the point where he wouldn’t back down, and we’d find out if the band could survive his ego.

I was also planning on complaining about Mr. Packer and his annoying decision to block me from skipping the bus ride back after Friday’s game. I was far from confident that Warren could sort this out, and it was really rubbing me the wrong way. I know Mr. French was probably getting tired of me complaining about Mr. Packer, but I just needed to get it off my chest.

I was a few steps away from the choir room when I was surprised to hear raised, angry voices. I paused outside the door, which stood slightly ajar, peering through the crack to see if it was clear to go in or not.

Mr. French’s office door was open, and whatever was happening, it was happening in there. I couldn’t make out the words, but I recognized the tone, and I definitely recognized the voices. Mr. Packer was almost screaming, his voice hard, while Mr. French’s voice was a lot softer and harder to make out.

Mr. Packer being on the warpath now didn’t bode well for me. Worse, it might mean something bad for Mr. French. It wasn’t a secret he was my go-to teacher. I spent basically every downtime moment I had at school in the choir room if he didn’t have a class, and he’d gone to bat for me several times in the past. It was possible Mr. Packer was increasing his vendetta to include anyone defending or supporting me.

I’d gotten the impression that Aaron’s father was pushing him to make more progress in their scheme to get to me. I didn’t know if Mr. French had said something, but if it became known, I imagine Mr. Packer would be worried and feel like he had to do something about it.

I hesitated outside the choir room, wrestling with the urge to get within earshot so I had a little warning about whatever might be coming. The problem was, there was that window in Mr. French’s office and the open ground from the door into the choir room and anywhere I could hide. If I did go inside and they were looking this way, I’d be busted. Hell, if the extra light from the hallway spilled in enough, it might draw their attention to me.

Either way, I didn’t imagine Mr. Packer seeing me show up would help anyone in this situation. Still, forewarned was forearmed. If I knew Mr. Packer’s latest move, I might have a chance to do something about it.

Ignoring the voice in the back of my head telling me this was one of the dumbest things I’d done in a long time, I pulled the door open as slowly and carefully as possible, trying to gauge if it opened too far to let in the light, while keeping my eyes on the office. Mr. Packer was facing away from me, finger pointed at Mr. French, whose mouth was set in a thin line. I don’t know if Mr. Packer recognized it or not, but that was how Mr. French looked when he was furious.

I slowly moved towards the small storage closet between his office and the hallway, to the left of the door I was sneaking through. I thought I’d made it free and clear, until Mr. French’s eyes darted sideways, maybe attracted to the motion of me sneaking into the room.

To his credit, he didn’t react except for a slight widening of his eyes, which he almost instantly got under control, looking directly back at Mr. Packer. His eye twitched a little, probably resisting the urge to look back over at what I was doing. I was committed now. Leaving would only give Mr. Packer another chance to see me. And I really wanted to know what was happening.

I slipped into the closet and pulled the door mostly closed behind me. I had to hope that when he left, Mr. Packer wouldn’t be paying attention, since the door had been open when I’d gone into the closet.

Mr. Packer’s voice rose, taking on a threatening growl. Even closer, Mr. French’s voice was still too soft for me to comprehend what he was saying, but Mr. Packer erupted again in response.

In barely restrained fury, Mr. Packer said, “I don’t care about your opinion, Kevin. Your job does not include questioning the decisions made by the administration. You’re here to teach choir, and that’s all.”

Mr. French’s response was too low to discern fully, but I picked out words like “harassing,” “vindictive,” and “targeted.” I appreciated his defense of me, but when I’d complained to him about what Mr. Packer was doing and his connection to Mr. Campbell, I hadn’t expected him to actually confront the vice principal. If he managed to lose his job over this, I would feel terrible.

Mr. Packer snorted, “I don’t know where you heard that, but it’s bullshit. Every decision I’ve made has been for the good of this school and the student body. If you weren’t trying so hard to be their friend and were trying to be their teacher, you might actually recognize that.”

Again, I couldn’t hear Mr. French’s response, although I made out the words “obsession” and “lackey.” Whatever he said, it clearly hit a sore spot because the force of Mr. Packer’s words suddenly turned threatening.

“I think you’re confused about your role here, Kevin. Do I need to remind you of the terms of your contract? Should I go to the district about these baseless accusations?”

This time I could hear Mr. French’s response.

“You can do whatever the hell you feel like, Harold, but keep in mind my accusations aren’t baseless if they’re true. If they actually start an investigation into this situation, which of us will come out worse? Did you cover your tracks with the money he’s given you? On second thought, maybe we should just bring this to them now. How about that? Should I call them now?”

“You son of a …” Packer snarled, cutting off abruptly.

Seconds later, the door to Mr. French’s office banged open. I pulled back, away from the closet door, and held my breath as Mr. Packer stormed past.

I couldn’t see him, but he must have stopped in the doorway of the choir room because his voice was right in front of me when he said, “You’re going to regret this.”

“We’ll see,” Mr. French said, standing just in view of the cracked door, his arms folded.

The choir door banged open, and Mr. French disappeared from view. After a few beats, the door pulled open, and he said, “All right, come on out.”

I slowly stepped out. Mr. French stood in front of the choir room door, arms folded, staring at me.

“That was stupid,” he said.

It came out as a matter-of-fact statement. He didn’t sound particularly angry that I’d snuck in to listen to the conversation, although I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

“I know. I was walking by and heard y’all yelling, and I was worried you were confronting him about what I told you, and that you’d get in trouble.”

“And if I was, what exactly was your plan?”

That was an excellent question.

“I didn’t have one, but if I knew what was happening, I’d have a better chance of doing something about it. I was mostly venting when I told you about him and Mr. Campbell. If something happens to your job because of it, I’ll be responsible.”

“Charlie, I’m an adult and a teacher. You’re sixteen and a student. Which one of us is responsible in this situation?”

“I am,” I insisted. “I might not be an adult, but I’m old enough that I’m responsible for anything I put in motion. Also, technically, I am an adult.”

“I need you to stay out of this. If I choose to talk to Mr. Packer, that’s between me and him. You already have more to focus on than anyone at this school. You need to keep your eye on what’s important. In a year, you’ll be out of here, and none of this will matter anymore.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t treat me like I’m a little child.”

“I’m not treating you like you’re a little child. I’m treating you like you’re a teenager, which is exactly what you are. Charlie, I know it feels like you know everything there is to know, and you’re a smart kid, but this is outside of your depth. I’ve dealt with people like him before, and I know how to handle it. If you have any trust in me at all, please don’t put yourself in a situation like this again. The last thing you want to do is give him an actual reason to come down on you.”

I sighed, shoving my hands in my pockets. While I wouldn’t agree with his assessment of me, considering the incredibly stupid and risky move I’d just made, it wasn’t like I was trying to disprove it either.

“I’ll try. But I’m not going to stop fighting for myself.”

“Fine, just don’t sneak into closets to hear other people’s conversations anymore. Okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, appropriately chastised.

“Good. Now get out of here.”

I made my way back to the cafeteria. I did trust Mr. French, but I was still certain that confrontation was a mistake. The problem was, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. Other than taking his advice to stay off of Mr. Packer’s radar, there weren’t a lot of options for me, which is why I’d gone to Mr. French in the first place.

Now he was involved, his job might be in jeopardy, and I still had no good options.

***

To my surprise, Warren actually came through. He hadn’t told me and had already headed back to Asheville, since Wellsville didn’t have a lot in the way of motels, at least not like what he was used to. He was probably billing it to our account, which didn’t come out of our money directly but was used to track all of the expenses related to my contract to determine if I was profitable for the label or not. Not that I minded. With some of the gigs and publicity he’d arranged for us, he’d made me way more money than he’d ever cost me by staying in halfway decent hotels.

Unsurprisingly, Mr. Packer also didn’t talk to me about the change. I was just told about it by Coach Dean as we were loading up to head out to the game, since if I was going to drive back separately, I also needed to drive there separately to have my car with me.

The game itself didn’t go great, but the odds of us having three amazing games in a row had been slim anyway. We were playing one of the best teams in our division, and they’d trounced us last year when we generally had a stronger team, before Chris and Marcus graduated. I personally had a bad game that I’d like to blame on being unfocused, what with Sydney and Mr. Packer distracting me, but that wasn’t it. I might have made a few good plays, but I recognized enough about my own ability, or deficiencies, to know I had inconsistent performances. Coach Dean had talked to me about it, but I honestly wasn’t sure it was worth putting in the work to become more consistent. I had two seasons left, including this one, and if I was going to spend time outside of practice, I’d spend it on my music.

After saying goodbye to my teammates, I hopped in my car and sped down the winding roads leading through the mountains, back to Wellsville. It wasn’t all that late, but one of the reasons I’d wanted to drive separately was because of how far away the game was. The game finished at nine, and it was going to take an hour for the bus to get back to Carr, which meant it would be after ten before I could get to the Blue Ridge.

Besides the fact that the Blue Ridge was ten minutes closer to where we’d been playing than Carr, and the time it would have taken to get unloaded, in my car, past everyone else trying to leave and off to the Blue Ridge, I also drove a whole lot faster than a school bus. While not exactly putting up autobahn speeds, the school bus tended to slow to extremely low speeds around the winding corners that I didn’t have to.

I made it to the Blue Ridge by nine-forty-five, plenty of time to get warmed up out back and on stage by the time our show started. When I got out, I actually found Marco, Seth, Lyla, and Lyla’s girlfriend Tabitha out back.

“I’ll see you inside,” Tabitha said when I walked up, giving Lyla a kiss before heading inside.

She did give me a slight head nod, but that was about as friendly as she ever got with me. I didn’t think she’d ever get over the decade-plus age difference between us.

“So, I’ve got some news,” I said.

“Another gig?” Marco asked.

“No, but it’s still good news. First, Warren brought a check reimbursing us for our instruments, and it’s actually more than we spent, so we can start taking our cuts from performances again.”

“About time,” Marco groused.

I’d normally have put that down to his standard pessimism, but everyone had been feeling the pinch, so I didn’t begrudge him this time.

“Considering how long insurance usually takes, this is actually pretty fast,” I pointed out.

“Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced.

“Anyway, that’s the small news. The big news is he set up an interview with Axel Rivers for his Saturday morning show. It’s a remote out of Asheville, but it’s still national. They want to talk about the Raleigh fire, but Warren thinks after a few minutes we should be able to divert the conversation to the album and our two upcoming shows. If we do it right, it could really push us into the stratosphere. The label has already put an ad buy on some streaming platforms to take advantage of the boost.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome,” Marco said in a rare display of enthusiasm, his eyes lighting up.

“I know.”

“So, what time do we need to be down there?” Seth asked.

I’d actually been very careful in my wording, trying not to indicate that the interview was just for me. I don’t actually know why I did that. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t ask. Maybe I’d hoped they’d figure it out on their own and not say anything, even though that was just about the least likely thing to happen.

“So, that’s the one downside. Since the label set this up, they set it up just for me. But it’s still going to be a good thing for us.”

“A good thing for you, maybe. Jesus, do you always have to take up the entire spotlight? This is bullshit.”

“It’s not like that, and you know it. I pushed for you guys to be in on it, I really did. We all knew the deal when I signed the contract with them, and you all agreed to it. It’s not like this is the first time we’ve run into this, and I’ve made sure that we equally share everything I get from the label.”

“You say that, but the only name that ever gets mentioned is yours.”

I was just about done with Marco. I knew ever since Warren told me about the interview that this was what was going to happen, but I’d hoped he’d finally come to his senses. Either way, I was done taking his shit. Every time anything good happened, all he could do was complain because he thought he wasn’t getting enough attention.

“Bullshit,” I said. “Although maybe we’d be …”

Seth must have guessed what I was about to say because he interrupted me, saying, “Hey, it could still be really good. Imagine how well our album’s going to sell now. We’re about to start seeing real money.”

“Yeah,” Lyla said, her eyes darting to Seth.

I backed down. If they wanted to keep things together, I’d play nice for now, but I needed to get the two of them aside and have this out. They needed to be clear about where things were going if he kept acting the way he was.

Marco, however, didn’t take the hint.

“This is such bullshit. I’m just about done with the Charlie Nelson Show,” he said, throwing up his hands.

“That’s fine by me,” I said. “You want to go out on your own, you go right ahead.”

“Let’s not be hasty,” Seth said.

“No. He knew the deal he was getting into. I’m not trying to screw anyone out of anything. The label set this up, I didn’t. If I set it up, I would have made sure he got to participate, but it’s not like any of us have the ability to get something like this on our own, or else he would have had his own band a long time ago.”

“I’m right here, asshole. You can talk to me if you want to,” he said, stepping up to me.

“If that’s how you want it, let’s go,” I said, getting inches from him.

“Hey, knock it off,” Seth said, pushing himself between us.

“I’ve bent over backward to make sure you get credit. I’ve split everything equally among us. If you think I’m trying to make this all about me, you’ve got your head shoved so far up your ass that you’re never gonna see what’s actually happening. If you think you’re good enough, go out on your own. Maybe you can get your own contract.”

Marco’s eyes flashed and for a second I thought he was going to push Seth out of the way and try his luck for real.

“Screw you, Charlie! I don’t need this bullshit.”

He turned on his heel and stomped off, although I couldn’t help but notice it was back into the Blue Ridge, which meant he wasn’t actually leaving. That’s what really got to him. He knew I was right and that the only reason he had any success right now was because of me. I wasn’t conceited, but he and Seth had been trying to make it for years and had barely been scraping along doing session work. It pissed me off, and the blood in my veins practically boiled.

“I’ll talk to him,” Seth said, starting to follow after him.

The more things stay the same, the more they never changed. Or something like that.

“This is it, Seth. I’m serious this time. The next time he storms off like that, after one of his tantrums, is the last time he plays with us.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Seth said, worry etched on his face.

I actually felt bad for Seth, and it was one of the reasons I hadn’t pushed things sooner, even with all the times Marco had made an ass of himself. If I did kick Marco out, he’d demand Seth go with him. The two of them had been friends long before we’d met, and it would mean that Seth would have to choose between their friendship and the band. This was the most success either one had experienced, and as much as I wanted to get rid of Marco, I liked Seth and didn’t want to take this away from him.

“You okay?” Lyla asked.

She’d been suspiciously quiet. I knew she was as fed up with him as I was. The two of them had almost come to blows several times over his outbursts. She wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet, so if she didn’t say anything this time, there was a reason for it.

“I guess, I’m just getting fed up with him. I’m trying to be patient, but he’s starting to really piss me off.”

“Yeah,” she said, although her heart wasn’t in that either.

“You agree with him?” I asked.

I made sure to keep any heat out of my voice and tried to ask it as honestly as I could. She’d been nothing but supportive since she joined us, and she’d written what was turning out to be one of our more popular songs. Plus, I really did like her.

“Not exactly. He’s off base about most of it, but are you sure about this interview? I mean, if it’s just going to be about the fire …?”

She left the question to hang in the air, but I’d asked Warren the same thing, so I knew what she meant.

“I had the same concern, and Warren said it didn’t matter. He said even if that’s all they wanted to talk about and I can’t get them to talk about our album or shows, it’ll still be great exposure for us. I’m still going to try to get the word out about what we have going, and I think it’s worth trying. I don’t know when we’ll ever get the chance to have this many people hear our name again, at least not until we start playing NFL halftime shows.”

“All right. If you think so.”

“I do, or at least Warren convinced me I do. The fire aside, he hasn’t steered us wrong yet, so I’m willing to trust him.”

“Then I guess I’ll trust you,” she said, grinning. “Let’s go make sure Marco doesn’t start breaking anything.”