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head at me again as I leave the class, but this time I just ignore her.

6
    I ’m the last to arrive at our quartet rehearsal. Abby’s sitting on a stool almost completely hidden by her double bass, and she’s practicing a tricky pizzicato passage in the music. It occurs to me that if she’d taken up the cello instead of the bass she might look sexier. She could drape herself over it and wrap her arms around it caressingly.
    I cast the image aside as I pull out my flute and fit the pieces together. The rest of the quartet is already set up: Caitlin on drums, Nathan on guitar. Abby bows an A, and Nathan and I tune up while Caitlin pretends to tune her snare drum, which always makes us laugh even though she’s been doing it for three years now.
    Nathan’s latest arrangements are perched on my music stand: some “classic” (i.e., old) pop music; some jazz “standards” (i.e., elevator muzak). It’s all kind of corny, but a welcome change from the showpieces I had to learn f or last month’s instrumental scholarship audition at Brookbank University.
    With the slightest nod of my head, I kick-start the first piece. And even though we’re sight-reading, the ensemble is tight and the sound crackles with energy. As we draw to a close with a room-rattling crescendo, I can tell from their movements and facial expressions that Abby, Nathan, and Caitlin know we’re jamming too. We’re sharing a moment , and to be honest, it’s pretty cool.
    An hour later we take a break, and Caitlin and Nathan step outside. They’re the ultimate proof that opposites attract. She’s waif-like, wears colored contacts, and claims to be the world’s first and only Goth-in-red-clothing (because she’s allergic to black clothes dye). He’s fat, wears thick glasses, and parts his hair carefully to one side; in my less charitable moments I’ve wondered if he was put on the earth to reassure me that I could be even dorkier than I am. As couples go, Caitlin and Nathan are an enigma, pretty much keeping to themselves whenever we’re not rehearsing.
    â€œWhere were you at lunch?” Abby asks, laying her double bass gently on its side. “I didn’t see you.”
    I only hesitate for a second. “Finishing some homework. It was due this afternoon.”
    â€œOh.” She grabs a couple bottles of water from her book bag and tosses one to me. “That’s good to hear. Nathan said you might be at Brandon’s meeting, but I figured he must be joking. No way would you join in with that stuff.”
    I wonder if she knows more than she’s letting on, but she takes a big swig and smiles warmly.
    â€œNo, of course you wouldn’t,” she continues. “You’re way too cool for them.” I honestly think she believes it too.
    Nathan and Caitlin are coming back into the room when they pause for a brief kiss. As usual, it morphs into a substantial time-out involving hair pulling and tongues. I can feel myself turning red so I look away, but Abby just laughs.
    â€œDo you think Caitlin would be pleased or offended if I said they’re a cute couple?” she whispers.
    â€œI’m not sure ‘cute’ is the word.”
    â€œOf course it is. They’re totally in love and they can’t get enough of each other. What could be cuter than that?”
    â€œBut they look kind of weird together, don’t you think?”
    Abby picks up her bass. “What’s that got to do with whether or not they’re a cute couple?”
    â€œI just think of cute couples as being attractive, that’s all.”
    â€œLike who?” she says, tuning the lowest string.
    â€œWell, like Brandon Trent and Morgan Giddes.”
    Abby’s hands stop moving and she casts me a penetrating stare. “I didn’t know they were dating. Who told you that?”
    Oh crap. I’m about to tell her they’re not dating—at