Major Crush Read Online Free PDF Page B

majorette herself, for about two days.”
    “Oh, that’s right,” said Mr. Rush. “A nd you made some JonBenét Ramsey crack, Morrow, and she went off and got her nose pierced.”
    “What?” Drew looked at me in shock.
    “That’s not why I quit the majorettes,” I told Drew. “I mean, that wasn’t the only reason.” I turned to Mr. Rush. “Ill probably get expelled for saying this, but you’re a real—”
    Drew slapped his hand over my mouth. “Don’t fall for it,” he told me, watching Mr. Rush. “Remember he’s trying to get rid of us.”
    I stared wide-eyed at Drew. Besides trying to pull my arm off in the bathroom Friday night, it was the first time he’d ever touched me. This close, he was so foxy that he almost gave me the shivers. Clarinets swooned over Drew. But I made it a point not to swoon over anybody, ever. Especially not somebody who’d just accused me of prostituting myself to an eighty-year-old.
    Then Drew realized what he’d done. He snatched his hand away.
    Mr. Rush put his chin in his hand and gazed at us, looking bored. “Here’s the thing, Sauter. You’re a pretty girl.” He turned to Drew. “Can I say that as her teacher, or is it sexual harassment?”
    “You’re on the line.”
    “Then you tell her,” Mr. Rush said. “Don’t you think she’s a pretty girl?”
    Drew looked at me and seemed to be studying me. I could feel myself turning red. Finally he said, “She’s mean.”
    “Me!” I squealed. “What about—”
    Mr. Rush held up his hand for me to shut up. “But is she pretty?” he asked Drew again.
    “I have a girlfriend,” Drew said.
    “I’m not asking you to take her to the prom,” Mr. Rush said, his voice rising again. “I’m asking you if you think she’s pretty.”
    “Yes,” Drew exhaled, not looking at me. I was relieved to see that he was turning red too.
    “Prettier than you?” Mr. Rush asked.
    Drew laughed. “Definitely.”
    “A nd after Friday night’s debacle, don’t you think we should use any means available to interest the audience and improve morale in the band?”

    “Yes.”
    “A nd to that end, don’t you think her uniform is inappropriate?”
    Drew turned to me. “The trombones call you Mini-Me.”
    I said, “The trombones can shove it up their—”
    Mr. Rush held up his hand for me to hush again. He repeated, “Get some boots and a skirt. Short. But not too short, do you understand me?
    I don’t want to get arrested. Can you do that by Friday?”
    I nodded. I would put my mom on the case. She could order something from a band uniform store online and have it overnighted. She’d be thrilled for me to show some leg again.
    Drew asked, “While you’re at it, can you make her wear shoes during band practice?”
    “I think it’s cute that she doesn’t wear shoes,” Mr. Rush said. “Oh, my God, did I just say that?” Shaking his head, he drew another line through his notes.
    Next item. “A nd what’s with your military salute at the beginning of the show?” he demanded. “This ain’t the army. Spice it up a little.” He pointed at Drew. “Dip her, like in the tango. Work on that in practice today while I try to undo whatever damage you’ve done to my marching band.”
    Drew closed his eyes. “I don’t dance.” He sounded very tired.
    “You don’t have to dance,” Mr. Rush said. “Just do this one move. Sex sells. Throw the audience a bone.”
    Drew opened his eyes and folded his arms. “I don’t think I can do that.”
    Mr. Rush said, “Sauter, do me a favor, would you? Lean out the door and ask Clayton Porridge to come in here.”
    “A ll right!” Drew bent down and banged his head on Mr. Rush’s desk. Voice hollow against the metal, he said, “This was so much easier last year.”

    When Mr. Rush finally let us go, I jumped out the door of his office and ran to tell A llison the news that I had become a boots-wearing hussy of a drum major who seduced elderly men.
    “Sauter,” Drew called