I desperately needed them to learn basic spreadsheet skills so they would stop relying on me, but teaching those two to use a computer for anything more than surfing the Web was like teaching Xavier Pilkington, Most Academic, to play a dance-competition video game. Bob and Roger took a certain amount of pride in not being able to do this, and they wasted my time bragging about how hopeless they were. I got frustrated with them and told them as much, and they folded their arms and told me I was being huffy. I hadn’t run a practice as drum captain yet, but this was what it would be like. The best part of my evening was getting text messages from Will. After we’d politely said good-bye in band and gone our separate ways, I hadn’t expected him to check up on me. I definitely hadn’t thought he would entertain me with texts like “Sorry you have to work. You should be here. This partay is off da HOOK!” with a photo of his mom scrubbing the ahffen. I got home so late that my dad had already left for his shift.
