The Music of Bees Eileen Garvin (best autobiographies to read .TXT) 📖

He watched the bees work the dandelions, and his mind returned to what he had been reading that morning about the bee waggle—that strange series of spins and booty shaking that the forager bees performed to demonstrate the location and quality of a good nectar cache. The better the source, the more enthusiastic the dance. The others would replicate it until they had learned it by heart—how far away, at what angle to the sun, which direction, and how robust. That was all pretty amazing.

The bee waggle had made him think of “Wiggle Waggle,” the piece that his jazz sextet had performed at state his junior year. He and Noah were the brass, which played the opening riffs and short punctuations. They were flawless that day—tight and punchy—and they took first place. More than the award, he remembered the way it all felt—the valves under his fingers, the pressure of the mouthpiece against his lips, the regulation of aperture. The other day he had taken his trumpet out of the case and held it in his hands. He raised it to his mouth, but was overwhelmed and couldn’t play, so he had put it away again. He felt a deep longing for it now. Maybe he would pull it out when he got back to Alice’s and mess around a little. Perhaps he could just run his scales. He wondered what the bees would think if he played “Wiggle Waggle” for them.

Jake took a swig from his water bottle and scanned the sandbar. He could see Harry and the kids gathered around the big pink kite at the north end of the large sweep of sand. He heard a girl laugh, and he glanced back at a group of teenagers standing behind him. He recognized some of them from school. They were all girls and just one guy. One of the girls was Megan Shine’s little sister. What was her name? Michelle? She was blond and had the same cheerleader body as her sister. The boy had a Husky on a leash. Michelle leaned over to pet the dog, which was staring in Jake’s direction. Cheney bolted upright, growling, and ran straight for it.

“Oh, shit!” Jake muttered. He released the brake on his chair and followed.

“Cheney!” he yelled. “Come, buddy!”

The two dogs stood nose to nose, doing a stiff-legged dance with their tails held high. Cheney offered a deep play bow and then tore off toward the water. The Husky yanked her leash out of the boy’s hand and bounded after Cheney. The boy ran after her, calling, “Yuki, come! Yuki! Bad dog!”

Jake sighed and watched them go. He draped Cheney’s leash around his shoulders.

“They’ll be back,” he said to no one in particular.

He could feel the girls staring at him from behind their sunglasses, and he told himself it didn’t matter.

“Landon is hilarious,” Michelle said, giggling. “I mean, Yuki runs away every five minutes.”

Jake moved back toward his spot on the grass.

“Hey! Um, did you go to HRV?” a voice said. A girl with short black hair detached herself from the group. She took a step toward Jake and pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. She wore a black T-shirt, cutoff jean shorts, and red Chuck Taylors. Her skin was pale, and under her dark hair was a pair of intense green eyes.

“Yeah. Class of 2013,” Jake said.

The girl stepped closer and shoved her hands in her back pockets. She slouched and crossed one ankle over the other. She did not look like a cheerleader. Not one bit, and Jake couldn’t take his eyes off her—her lanky Bugs Bunny arms and legs, her messy hair, and those green eyes.

“I think I sat in front of you in band?” she said. “I was in the clarinet section. I remember you and your friend, the big one with the curly hair?”

“Katz. Noah Katz,” Jake said. “Yeah, Schaffer’s class.”

“You guys were trouble, huh? I was there that day you poured milk into Matt Swenson’s tuba,” she said.

Jake’s smile disappeared. That had seemed funny at the time. He looked away. “Yeah, well. We were being idiots. Stupid shit.”

Her cheeks flushed red. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jake said, smiling. “I’m the idiot. Not you.”

She smiled back at him, her cheeks still red, and her green eyes seemed to darken. He had a faint memory of her from band class. She’d been a freshman. Clarinet. Yes, definitely. Her hair had been longer then.

A brown blur flashed between them, and Cheney shook from head to tail, flinging sand as he wriggled from his big ears down to his rump. The girl squealed.

“Beast!” Jake yelled, throwing his hands up. “Sorry.”

The girl laughed and wiped her face with her arm. “It’s okay. I was sandy already. He’s sweet. What’s his name?”

She knelt next to the big dog, who rolled over and offered her his sandy belly.

“Cheney. He’s a lover, not a fighter,” Jake said.

The boy called Landon stalked back up the lawn with the Husky straining against her leash. Cheney jumped up, whining, and Jake grabbed him by the collar.

“Dude! You know there’s a leash law down here, right?” the boy said, glaring at Jake.

“Jesus, Landon,” one of the girls muttered.

“Cheney, sit,” Jake said, and Cheney sat. He nodded at the Husky. “Pretty dog,” he offered. “Looks like they want to be buddies.”

“This is a pedigree Alaskan Husky,” the boy spat. “She’s going to breed champion sled dogs. Not get knocked up by a fucking beach mutt.”

“Hey, dude,” Jake said, and held his hands up. “Why don’t you take it down a notch?”

There was a loud hissing noise as someone deflated a kite. Yuki jumped at the sound and took off toward the water, trailing her leash. The girls laughed as Landon pursued his dog. Jake let go of Cheney’s collar and let his dog join the chase.

“Whoops,” he said, and the green-eyed girl laughed.

“Hey, Amri!” one of the girls called. “We’re going. You want