The reminder of Melanie makes me reconsider. She’s alwaysbeen such a sweet soul and so kind to me. I don’t want to disappoint her either.
“Fine.” I roll back my shoulders. “For your mom.”
He trails after me as I walk from room to room, saying very little. Honestly, the house hasn’t changed much since he moved away, so there isn’t much to show.
“Your parents’ altar to marching band has gotten an update,” he says when we walk through the living room.
I frown and turn to see him looking at my Most Valuable Member plaque.
“It’s not an altar.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “I haven’t been around for a while, but I remember your parents. If there’s one thing they worship, it’s marching band.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “I won it freshman year,” I say, pointing to the plaque. “To say my parents were excited would be an understatement.”
“I can imagine.” He studies it. “Are you hoping for a repeat win?”
“Doesn’t everybody want to win everything?”
I know it’s selfish to want to win again my senior year since I’ve already been awarded it once. There are other people who are deserving, but I care so much about band, and it would be such an amazing way to end my time with the Marching Knights. Plus my parents would be ecstatic if I could pull it off the same way Mom did when she was a Glen Vale member.
Max turns away from the award. “I don’t thinkeveryonecares as much about winning as we do. We always had that particular flaw in common.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I keep walking into the kitchen at the back of the house. “And there’s the backyard. Tour done.”
Max peers out the sliding glass door. “Whoa, you still have the trampoline.”
“Kelsey uses it now. Did you…want to see it?”
“Why not?” Max opens the door and makes a beeline for the trampoline.
Another wave of memories rushes over me as I reluctantly follow him. We used to love jumping together. I’m half expecting him to start jumping right now, or even do front flips like we used to. Maybe I can leave him out here like an overactive ten-year-old and barricade myself in my room for the rest of the night. But he just sits down in the center and tips his chin up toward the sky.
I hesitate, then follow him up onto the trampoline.
“So,” I say quietly.
“So.”
I take a deep breath to brace myself. “I don’t get it, Max. Why are you friends with Brody?”
“Why do you hate Brody?”
“As if that isn’t completely obvious.” I huff and start to stand. “Have fun.”
“I’m new, Hazel. I know our lives have turned out differently and you don’t know what it’s like to have to move schools, but I do. The last thing I want is to come charging into a new school and a new band and immediately make enemies with my section leader.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and sit back down. I wasn’t expecting a real answer. And his answerdoesmake sense,except that Brody is such an exceptional jerk that I can’t respect anyone who likes him.
“Why do you hate him?” Max repeats quietly.
“He’s a sore loser. And a sore winner, actually.”
“A sore loser? Heh, I’ve never met one of those before.” His voice is almost teasing.
“Me neither. And definitely not over something as silly as a board game.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “I hope you aren’t dredging up that Settlers of Catan game.”
