Chapter 44

Now that it was June, my focus was on finals. I had a normal week of classes and then a week of finals. After that, I would finish the semester with my normal classes, not that much would be taught with finals over with. So this was my last week in my Band class before finals. Since I would be studying for the exams when not in school, I wouldn’t be able to meet Mr. Roman at his apartment, so Band class would be the only times I would see him.

On Monday, I rushed to my Band class hoping to be the first one there. I wanted a chance to talk to Mr. Roman. Knowing what my schedule was going to be like for the next couple of weeks, I missed him already.

I burst into the Band classroom and stopped, doubling over, gasping for air. I had run the entire way and needed to catch my breath. A stunned Mr. Roman looked at me and then came over and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I—” I sucked in a lungful of air. My heart was pounding. “I wanted—” I took two more deep breaths. “To see you before class started.”

“Is there a problem?”

I straightened up so Mr. Roman’s hand dropped to his side. He looked concerned. I had my breathing under control, although a trickle of sweat dribbled down my left temple into my ear.

“We won’t see each other for a while and I just wanted to tell you that I love you,” I said.

Mr. Roman’s eyes shot around the empty classroom and then the door. “I love you, too,” he whispered and I realized I hadn’t whispered. “Finals will be over in a couple of weeks and then we’ll have plenty of time. Now take your seat before others comes in.”

When my Band class started, Mr. Roman was leaning against the front of his desk. He said, “I don’t expect you to practice during the week of finals.” There was a collective sigh of relief. He chuckled. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that. Before we begin today, I have a question. How many people like Rock ‘n Roll?”

My arm shot up. When I looked around, everyone else’s hand was up, too.

“How many people like classical?” Mr. Roman asked.

A few hands went up. Mr. Roman chuckled.

“I won’t hold it against you if you don’t. So be honest.”

All the hands dropped.

“How many people like jazz?”

I raised my hand and looked around. I was the only one with a hand up.

Mr. Roman turned to pick up sheet music on his desk when a voice from the rear shouted, “What about Country?”

Mr. Roman spun around and smiled. “Okay, who likes Country?”

The boy stretched both arms as high into the air as he could. He was the only one.

“Okay, Bobby-Joe, you can put your hands down. You moved here from Texas.”

“Dallas.”

“My apologies,” Mr. Roman said, “that was biased of me.” He looked at the class and said, “Is there any other kind of music any of you like?”

“I like the theme to the ‘I Love Lucy’ show,” a girl said.

There was a moment of silence and then everyone burst out laughing, even Mr. Roman. When he raised his hands to quiet the room, the girl was blushing.

“I do too,” Mr. Roman said to her. And then he said to the class, “There are all kinds of music. And they borrow from each other.” His eyes fell on me. “Just keep an open mind to all types of music.”

I blushed and looked down.

The rest of the week was basically a review of the semester’s material for those classes that had a final. Once I got home, I studied until bedtime. And then I labored through a week of final exams. It was draining. Each night I’d lie in bed exhausted, slowly bringing myself to an orgasm by gently rubbing my clitoris. I wasn’t seeking a powerful orgasm. I hadn’t the strength or even desire for that. I just needed to relax and found the gentle stimulation soothing, and the climax released a lot of stress and let me sleep.

And then finals were over.

I was so looking forward to seeing Mr. Roman that I once again raced through the halls to my Band class. When I barged into the classroom, a man I had never seen was sitting at Mr. Roman’s desk. He was wearing a suit and tie like other teachers. For an instant I thought I was in the wrong classroom, but a quick glance around told me I was in the right place.

“Can I help you?” the man asked.

“I’m in Band.”

“Then take your seat.”

“Where’s Mr. Roman?”

“I’m a substitute teacher. I’ll be taking over. Now take your seat.”

I had so many questions. Was Mr. Roman sick? For how long would he be out? But when the substitute teacher glared at me it squelched my questions and I sat in my normal seat.

When everyone was seated, the man said, “My name is Mr. Fabio. I am a substitute teacher. Unfortunately, I’m not a Band teacher so you’re stuck with me until you get your Band teacher back.”

Oh great! Band was the only class I had to look forward to until the end of the semester. How long was Mr. Roman going to be out? What if he wasn’t back by the time the semester ended? How would I get in touch with him? I planned to spend a lot of time with him over the summer, but had thought we had time to make those arrangements. But there was still over a week of school. Mr. Roman probably just had a summer cold and would be back soon.

I didn’t hear anything more the substitute teacher said that day.

In the cafeteria, Debbie asked me why I was so glum.

“We have a substitute teacher for Band,” I said.

“So what? The semester is over.”

“He’s not—” I clamped my mouth shut. I almost said that he wasn’t Mr. Roman. “He’s not even a music teacher.”

“So what are you doing in your class?”

“Nothing. We were told to read or do anything we wanted as long as we weren’t noisy. He’s basically a babysitter. When someone asked if she could practice in the soundproof room, he didn’t even know we had one.”

Debbie was about to take a bite of her sandwich. She stopped, holding the sandwich with two hands near her mouth while looking at me. “You have a soundproof room?” she asked, incredulously.

“Yeah, to practice in.”

“What a great place to have sex,” Debbie said. “You can make all the noise you want and no one will hear you.”

“Debbie!” I said rather loudly. Then I leaned close to her and whispered, “What do you know about it anyway. You don’t have sex.”

Debbie blushed and looked at her plate, and then in a soft voice I could barely hear said, “Me and Wally did more stuff than I told you.”