A Marching Band Story - 1. Chapter 1

I. Hate. Boys. It’s like every little thing they do is meant to turn me on. The way they smile with their stupidly soft lips, revealing just the smallest glimpse of their perfect teeth through their mischievous smirks. The way they run their hands through their perfectly wavy hair. Even the way they laugh, whether it be a boisterous chuckle or an endearing giggle, feels like an attempt to seduce me.

But sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself here. The name’s Jarrod, I’m 18 years old, and I am a senior at Summer River High School in Summer River, Minnesota. I guess you could call me your average “band geek”. I am a part of every band my school offers and then some, I play several brass instruments (mainly trombone), and I practically live in the band room at school. Though “band” is not my only defining trait, as some people would have you believe. I am also pretty smart, having taken only honors and AP classes in high school, and I ended with a 4.0 GPA. My friends would also say that I am good-looking, but I have a hard time believing that myself. I’m 5’10’’, I wear my wavy black hair long enough to part on the right side, I wear pretty simple glasses, and though I don’t play any sports I do try to keep in shape.

One last thing that you should probably know about me is that I am hopelessly gay, though no one at school knows it. For the time being, I intend to stay in the closet, but that does not mean I have not had my fun over the years. I guess I’ve known I was gay since second or third grade, and my first sexual experience with another guy happened when I was still in Boy Scouts in middle school, but that’s an entirely different story for an entirely different time. Ever since then I have had my fair share of one-night stands with the odd gay guy from school who, like me, is not quite ready to be out.

Though I may be in the closet, that certainly does not stop me from admiring what seems like an unfairly large amount of insanely good-looking boys at school, especially those in band. But what’s better than admiring good-looking boys that go to my school is admiring good-looking boys that go to a different school, that way I don’t know them and there’s more of a chance that they might be gay. The school I go to is small, so to have a functioning marching band we have to team up with a different school, and boy do the guys from St. Kate’s High School look good. I have spent many a night fantasizing in bed about each incredibly gorgeous boy I know from marching band.

I both look forward to and despise marching band practices. Sure, I get to see and talk with all the boys I have crushes on from St. Kate’s, but really it only serves as a reminder that a relationship with any of them is close to impossible. What they see as a harmless conversation between friends is a tortured attempt to feel closer to the guys of my dreams. It might be possible that one of these guys is like me, gay yet still in the closet, but as far as I can tell pretty much each boy I know is only interested in girls.

There is, of course, one boy that sticks out the most. The one boy that visits my dreams the most. The one boy with whom a real relationship seems the most promising. That boy would be Connor, a 15-year-old first-year veteran in the drumline. God, he is SO perfect. He is short, about 5’5”, but his skin is a flawless caramel tan color. His hair is a gorgeous auburn brown, shaved on the sides but long enough on the top to flip out of the way when it gets in his eyes. His smile, oh his smile, is enough to make me faint every time I see it. Add his outrageously cute glasses and Connor is the guy I want to spend the rest of my life with, or at least have a relationship with, I'm not picky.

I would say he and I are more of acquaintances as opposed to friends, however. I have had the occasional conversation with him and we have several mutual friends, but that's about it. The closest connection I have with Connor would be my section member Kyle. I suppose I forgot to mention that I have been the trombone section leader for three years now, and Kyle was one of my first rookies. He, like Connor, started marching band last year and is now returning this year as a veteran, and while I might not really know Connor, Kyle and I are pretty close. I see him like a little brother, well, that is a little brother whose best friend I want to fuck.

All season I have tried my absolute hardest to get closer to Connor, but unfortunately, it seems I am still just a friendly upperclassman in Connor’s eyes. But I am looking to change that on this year’s trip, my last trip. For those of you unfamiliar with the marching band circuit in Minnesota, usually marching bands will take a trip over the Fourth of July to different cities where a major parade is happening, and this year's trip just happens to be to Calgary, Canada for the Calgary Stampede Parade. Now, these trips are usually 30% marching band and 70% fun, so I was looking forward to hopefully getting closer to Connor and maybe having one last summer fling before college.

But of course, my stupid shy self failed at every chance to talk to Connor. For starters, I wasn't even on the same bus as Connor which made things that much harder. Again, for those of you who have never taken a weeklong trip with a large group of high schoolers, our marching band drove its way to Calgary on three buses, and Connor and I signed up to be on different buses. This was a setback I had not foreseen, but I guess I would just have to try harder when we stopped along the way to talk to Connor. But this was easier said than done, and it turned out that my senior friends wanted this last trip to be memorable so I had literally no time to myself to talk to Connor.

Things were beginning to look disastrous, but then the unexpected happened. It was the third day of the trip and our first night in Canada. The hotel was nice enough and we had a lot of downtime that day after the pizza dinner which was provided by the hotel. I had always been pretty close with my first set of rookies, and three of them, Alice, Zella, and the aforementioned Kyle, asked if I wanted to play cards. This seemed harmless enough, so I left my hotel room, and low and behold there was Connor, playing cards with my rookies. Apparently, my section members had become great friends with Connor this past year, something I had neglected to find out in my obsessed mission to get into Connor’s pants all season.

Well, over the game of cards we played (for those curious we played cribbage, if you don't know it, look it up it's quite fun) I had the longest conversation I had ever had with Connor, and he was everything I wanted him to be and then some. He was kind, funny, smart, and extremely cute while playing cards. As the game came to a close, Kyle suggested we all take a walk around the hotel, which sounded like a brilliant opportunity to get to know Connor more. A few more of Kyle and Connor’s friends joined us and then we were off.

The walk was, well, how do I put this, simply magical. I was able to isolate Connor and me, and we had begun to have the most enchanting conversation.

“You know Jarrod, I'm actually really glad to have talked to you tonight”, Connor said, “this might sound a little weird but I have always wanted to get to know you”.

I could hardly contain my excitement. “Wait, you've always wanted to get to know me? That’s funny because—”

“Yeah, of course, Kyle says you have been an awesome mentor and friend, and that you want to be a teacher someday. Well, teaching has always interested me so I was wondering if, I don't know, you could kind of help me out. I guess I was wondering if you had any, I don't know, pointers on how to figure out if teaching is really for me?”

And there it was, the terrifyingly cold reality of the nightmare that always follows to wake me up from my dreams. I knew it was just too easy, that nothing could ever go right for me.

“Umm, yeah, that's great that you're thinking about your future now”, I said trying not to let my disappointment show, “y–y–you see, being a teacher is a great job, b–b–but you really have to want it”. God, my anxiety was through the roof, and it was all I could do to keep calm and hope that my true feelings had not been revealed.

The rest of the conversation went well, I guess. I told Connor why I wanted to be a teacher, that I wanted to make one difference in that one child's life that needs it most, and that despite all of the drawbacks of teaching it really is the most gratifying job. But I made it clear that he needed to feel that for himself, that he needed his heart to be in teaching if he really wanted to pursue a career in education.

Connor was, of course, grateful for the advice, quick to say, “I'm glad to have finally met you and talk to you, really talk to you, you know?”

“Yeah, I–I–I know what you mean”, wow, all I could think about before was how much I wanted to talk to Connor, but now talking to Connor was the farthest thing from my mind. “Well, i–i–if you ever need any more advice or j–j–just want to talk or whatever, I'm here”, Jesus I'm completely hopeless.

“Yeah, that sounds great, thanks!”

Thankfully, the rest of the group caught up and I was able to slip back into conversation with everyone else, but I still could not shake the disaster that had just occurred. When am I going to learn that there is no future in which I end up in a relationship with a boy? God, I am an idiot. Well, fortunately, the walk did not last too long after that and I was able to go back to my room and regain some sense of normalcy. By the end of the night I was playing video games with my roommates and the conversation that had occurred earlier was but a distant memory.

With my hopes of getting to know Connor better dashed, I was actually able to enjoy the trip a bit more. The following days had us hiking in various national parks, across glaciers and through forests, taking in all of the magnificent natural beauty Canada had to offer. By the fifth day, we had finally reached the most exciting destination of the trip, a hotel resort in the mountains. The views were fantastic and the all-inclusive amenities were more than any high schooler could have dreamed of. Unfortunately, as there usually is a catch when it comes to my life, there was a mix-up with the rooms and I was to stay in a less glamorous room by myself.

After the initial disappointment, I suppose staying in a room by myself was not going to be that bad. At least I would get a chance to have some fun and entertain myself without the fear of roommates walking in. After I had settled in and begun to look forward to the rather fun night alone I had planned for myself, I headed down to dinner. But when I got there, I was surprised with a reserved seat with my rookies and their friends, which of course meant I would be eating dinner with Connor.

A couple of days had passed since the conversation took place, but I still was not completely over Connor quite yet. So, I put on a brave face, something I am quite used to doing, and attempted to have a good time. In actuality, things didn't go so bad and I was able to have a decent dinner, which also helped me take some steps towards getting over Connor. Dinner was over soon enough and I was back in my room at around 7:00 PM, giving me ample time to enjoy myself in isolation. I was just about to get ready, but that's when I heard a knock at my door.

I wasn't expecting anyone, so with peaked interest and a quickly deflating tent in my pants, I went to answer it. Well, nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen next. I opened the door, and there was Connor, patiently waiting. Upon closer inspection, I could see that his eyes were red and puffy from crying, his cheeks stained by an excess of tears.

“H–h–hey Jarrod, umm, I thought I would t–t–take you up on that offer to talk. D–d–do you have a few minutes, c–c–can I come in?”