I’m on my way up the stairs to my locker Monday morning when Abe comes down the other direction. He sees me and goes, “Trip’s out of the band,” over his shoulder, halfway past me on the staircase already.
“What?” is all I say back. Really, I’m thinking three things at once:
1. Oliver is such an asshole for not discussing this with me first.
2. I knew I should’ve gone to practice on Saturday. And,
3. Why didn’t Trip call me?
Abe sees my face and points down the stairs. “I know. But I gotta head.”