Gabe Johnson Takes Over by Geoff Herbach Page A

Beach. Bunch of rock bands (including Wall of Sound from Minneapolis, which features an MLAHS band alum, which would’ve been a good tie-in to our fund-raising), softball tournament, a few measly rides run by dudes with no teeth, a bunch of carnival games, and cotton candy and slushies and crap. A tractor pull. Usually lots of bees and mosquitoes too. Takes place before band camp was supposed to start the following week (tomorrow). Seemed like the right time and place to do a fund-raiser for the band. I agreed with Camille on that point.
    Well, there were other points that should’ve been addressed before Camille started spreading the word, like where would we have this concert if the Wilson Beach band shell has already been booked for a year? How would we get word out to the town? How would we actually make any money? Pass a hat or charge admission and how do you charge admission if you’re outside? Also, how would we practice? What songs? Who would actually show up to blow their horns? Who would direct if Mr. Shaver drowned himself in booze and cigarettes and then took off in his car?
    Camille came into Dante’s around ten o’clock the next morning. She walked in and stopped in her tracks. She and Gore stared at each other. I had failed to mention to Camille the night before that Gore was now my coworker.
    â€œWhat are you looking at?” Gore asked.
    Gore scares people, sir. Some people. What’s weird is she’s great at the counter. Really chatty and nice. Customers from the Twin Cities clearly like her because they don’t understand her history. Camille knows though, so she was scared.
    Camille looked over at me. I shrugged. Then she held up a flier for the concert.
    â€œNice butterfly,” Gore said.
    â€œThanks?” Camille responded.
    Gore was right. Nice butterfly. Camille had drawn a sweet-looking butterfly floating over the shore of Minnekota Lake. She’d written underneath it, “MLAHS Marching Band Spunk River Fund-raiser!” She’d written, “Sponsored by Dante’s Donuts.” She had a slot for date, time, place, and price but hadn’t filled any of that in.
    â€œWhat do you think?” she asked.
    â€œPretty good!” I said.
    â€œIt’s stupid,” she said.
    â€œWhy?” I asked.
    â€œI’m a child,” she said.
    â€œWhat?” I didn’t get it, sir. It was a nice butterfly.
    â€œI’m just drawing pictures like a little kid, not getting anything done. I mean, where are we going to play?” she asked.
    â€œAnd when?” I asked.
    â€œWhy?” Gore asked, as if she were a part of the conversation.
    â€œWhy what?” Camille asked.
    â€œWhy are you having a fund-raiser for the band?” Gore asked.
    â€œCheerleaders are using all the money from the pop machine,” Camille said.
    â€œWhat?” Gore whispered. “What?” she said again.
    â€œCheerleaders?” Camille said.
    â€œI heard you,” Gore whispered. Then she spoke so quietly Camille and I had to lean in to hear. “That’s false advertising for consumers, you know? Because I only bought pop out of that machine because the sign said it went to the band. I wouldn’t have given those girls my money. Not for any reason. I’m very angry about this.”
    â€œI’m sorry?” Camille said.
    â€œIt’s not your fault,” Gore whispered.
    Dante came out from in back. He nodded at Camille. He pointed at Gore and me and said, “Get ready for the church rush, you two.” Then he looked at the flier in Camille’s hand. He blinked. He turned a little red. “I’m sponsoring what?” he said.
    â€œSpunk River Band Fund-raiser?” Camille said.
    â€œChunk,” Dante said, “I’d like a word.” He turned and stomped into the back.
    â€œWhy’d you put that on the poster?” I whispered to Camille.
    â€œBut you said…I don’t