EPIC ADVENTURES

“Psssst”

I had my head down, watching my feet kick forward over the sidewalk so I didn’t register it.

“Psssssssssst! Hey!” a whispered voice called out to me.

I looked up but no one was near me. Leaves in the tree spreading shade over the path rustled, causing me to peer up into the branches. An upper class girl I knew from orchestra was sitting fairly high up among the foliage with another girl I recognized but had never met.

“What you doin’?” she asked in a bit of a sing song voice.

I hesitated. “Going to class?” I looked towards the music building at the end of the quad and then back up into the tree. “You know, the one that we have together?”

“Yeah, sure. More importantly…one sec,” she swiftly climbed down with the other girl right behind her. I was impressed with their agility. She jumped from the last branch, landing right in front of me with barely any indication that the branch was at least seven feet from the ground. The other girl landed a little less gracefully, but still better than I would have managed. They fell into what was beginning to feel like a formation on either side of me. “Do you like adventures?”

“As in…” I trailed off.

“Adventures. Epic. Adventures.” She had a conspiratorial grin on her face and she shared a glance with her friend behind my back. They both only came up to just below my shoulders.

“Hannah, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Listen, just think about it. Do you like adventures? Do you think you would like adventures? If so, don’t miss the call. Day or night. Also, I won’t be in class today. I feel so under the weather, ya know?” She laughed and both girls turned on their heels and dashed across the grass, jumping onto the concrete lip of the campus fountain and performing what had to be competition level gymnastic dismounts in unison at the far end before sprinting between Wiley Tower and the business college.

I was rooted to the spot watching them go. After they had finally disappeared, I took a few moments to attempt to figure out what had happened, and came up with more questions than I even knew how to begin dealing with. I started walking towards the music hall again and shook my head. Their behavior was strangely attractive. Compulsive. I almost felt drawn to throw my bag down and go chase after them just to even touch on whatever they were feeling. Adventures. Whatever that meant.

I sat through class in a daze. Dr. Walker didn’t mention Hannah not being in class, but she wasn’t first chair. Neither was I for that matter. We barely rated noticing unless we were out of tune. I was only in this class for the credit, not that I particularly liked orchestra. Music education majors had to take all manner of pedagogies to be able to teach all of the instruments in a band setting. That somehow that turned into me learning to fake the cello because the actual classes I needed were full because freshmen are at the mercy of upper classmen who needed classes that they were unable to take as underclassmen due to their upperclassmen trying to graduate and the vicious cycle continues in perpetuity. Deep breath in. Exhale slowly. I did it again, forcing myself to inhale until my lungs were practically clawing their way up my throat. Then I pushed all of the air out, not stopping until there was not a single wisp of air left in my lungs and my chest cavity felt like it was collapsing. Then I repeated the process until I was lightheaded and woozy. Not only does this expand your lung capacity and stamina, but the blood rush from the intense oxygenation apparently simulates certain imbibed responses. Who said I don’t know how to party in college?

I packed the cello away in my locker and made my way across the building from the practice hall to my private lessons with Mr. Jones on alto saxophone. He was the clarinet and saxophone instructor for school, and had had a career in Vegas twice as long as I had been alive. I’m not even sure if he had an actual degree, but when the man has played on four Grammy winning albums, you let him have the post!

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He wasn’t in his office. I ran through my warm up scales and had made it most of the way through a Wagner composition when Mr. Jones stumbled through the door and fell flat on his face. I didn’t stop playing. He raised one hand from the floor and actually began to direct me from his face down position. I finished the piece and he slowly pulled himself up into a seated position. His eyes were blood shot and his salt and pepper mustache had what looked like chalk dust sprinkled all over it. I knew what it actually was.

“You’ve been practicing! I just gave you that piece last week and it’s almost ready for your student recital. Well done. Now, go away.”

I packed up and I left.

Playing my saxophone had cleared my head from my earlier encounter, and I left the building wondering if Hannah was still tearing around campus. I made it back to my dorm room where my roommate was in the same position I had left him in, glued to his portable DVD player religiously watching some obscure indy music group called Flight of the Conchords. Trustfund baby. I was riding a full music scholarship, so I had things like a regular bedtime and study habits. I picked up my backpack and headed back out to go find my hideaway on the 9th floor of Wiley Tower to accomplish some of that studying. Music degrees still require Biology and Geology and Trigonometry. For some reason.

Adventure. I had been working on labeling the parts of a plant cell when the word floated from somewhere way in the back of my mind. Not just adventure. Epic adventures. I tried to focus. I couldn’t. Hannah was onto something. Not on something like Mr. Jones. She knew something. It was obvious she had a shared secret, and I was being invited into whatever secret was. I gave up on my plant cell and pulled my phone out of my bag and turned it on. It was a cheap burner phone from the back wall of Wal-Mart’s tech department and I spent $20 a month for unlimited texting. I got that $20 from selling plasma twice a week to the picky vampires two blocks off of campus.

I stared at my phone and it struck me. I was waiting for a call from someone who I didn’t think even had my number. Oh no. The block digits on the screen showed it was just after 4:30 in the afternoon. I sat there and watched the time tick by. 5:05 PM. I was utterly depressed. Also hungry. I considered breaking into my blood money and getting a pizza from the restaurant right off campus, but instead just chose to go use my student plan at the cafeteria. Another night of watery baked chicken alfredo and garlic bread that would make a certain peninsula nation declare war if they ever got word of its existence.

I laid in bed staring at words of a book I had just grabbed off the headboard/shelf/toiletry cabinet that made up my sleeping area. I had no idea what book it even was. I was refusing to look at my phone because I knew that only 14 seconds would have passed and I still didn’t have any calls from mysterious Adventure having classmates. My roommate turned his light off and went to bed for the second week in a row without a shower. I was up way past my normal bedtime. My phone vibrated. I snatched at it and flipped it open before it was even done with a full ring. It read, This is your call. Nielson volleyball nets. 11:30. I looked at the time. 11:22. I jumped out of bed and ran out of the room without even tying my shoes. I made it to the volleyball nets at 11:28. Nielson was not close to my dorms at all. A 15-minute brisk walk. I was not going to let that make me miss this. I almost collapsed in exertion. Hannah was there with four other people. She pulled her dark blue hoodie down from her hair and smiled at me. I noticed the street light across the courts turned her blonde hair into a colorless ash.

“You made it!”

I gasped and gave her a thumbs up, propping myself with one hand on my knee.

“Well, let’s introduce you. You met Abigail earlier today.” She pointed to the other tree climber.

Abigal pulled her hoodie down too and swept her pitch-black hair out of her eyes. “You got some legs on you, my guy!” For the first time, I noticed that they could be sisters. Similar heights, same chin, dark eyes, and bright smiles.

Hannah turned and waved her hand at a guy almost as tall as me. “This is David John.” He revealed his face, and he looked to be Latino. He had broad shoulders and his arms filled the sleeves of his hoodie. The same hoodie that Hannah and Abigal were wearing. She continued, “And this is John Willie and Rockett.” Two white guys showed their faces. She pronounced it like Rah-kett, with the emphasis hard on the K. They too had the same hoodie. Hannah opened her backpack and drew out another one and threw it at me. I caught it, and held it by the shoulders, looking at it. It was just a plain dark blue hoodie. It was incredibly soft though.

“Put it on. We got adventurin’ to do!” Abigail said excitedly. Hannah and the others all had big smiles on their faces.

John David stepped forward after I had put my hoodie on, “T-Jo, we don’t do trial runs. We know you’re going to fit in just fine. Tonight is the beginning of the rest of your life!”