scales and arpeggios

chapter two: percy

I grab my trombone and backpack out of the passenger's seat of my black 2005 Toyota Tacoma. I walk into the building and wave a quick hello to my friends as I head for my locker. I put away my backpack and walk towards the band room. I smile as I enter the room filled with fifty teenagers screwing around. I walk over to my group of friends, Jason greeting me with a smile.

"Hey, Percy!" Annabeth says.

"Hey, Annabeth!" I smile at her and turn back to the rest of the group, giving them quick waves before heading to my seat behind the clarinets. I pull out my trombone and play a few scales, but soon enough, Mr. Fletcher walks in.

"Good morning, class!" he says in his thick Southern accent that we teased him for but secretly adored. "Is everyone ready for another great year of band?" Everyone cheers; no one dislikes Mr. Fletcher. You're having a tough day? He always finds time to talk to you. Can't figure out a piece? He'll help you, no matter what. "I'm going to take role then we'll get started." I got ready. You see, Mr. Fletcher's role was random. He always read the names out of order so you didn't know when you'd be called.

"Leo Valdez?"

Leo flashes a grin from the trumpet section. "Miss me that much?"

"Yes, I missed you stuffing pencils in your trumpet so much." The class laughs, and Mr. Fletcher smiles at us.

"That was freshman year!"

"What about the Tic-Tac last year?" Piper says from the percussion section.

"Shut up, Piper!" Leo's blushing face is enough to make the whole class erupt in laughter.

Mr. Fletcher gives a slight, "ah," before returning to his role. "Katie Gardner? Thalia Grace? Grover Underwood? Annabeth Chase? Jason Grace?" I look at my fellow trombonists, Peter Parker and Octavian... what's his last name? Oh well, I don't like him anyway. I focus back on Mr. Fletcher, still waiting for my name to be called.

"Connor Stoll? Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano? Nico di Angelo? Frank Zhang? Piper McLean? Percy Jackson?" I follow everyone else and raise my hand, catching one more name before I space out. "Luke Castellan?"

"Alright and finally, we have two new flutists and a new percussionist!" That snaps me back to reality. "Rachel Dare and Calypso Young are our new flutists, and Annika Wallace is our new percussionist." They stand up and give small smiles before sitting right back down. Mr. Fletcher smiles before turning back to the rest of us and starting his annual speech.

"Junior year! Have I ever told you guys how my band and I got caught in a snowstorm?" I pull a pen out of my pocket and click it, paying attention to the many stories Mr. Fletcher told. He glances at the clock about 20 minutes later. "Oh, I've been talking way too long. Let's warm up with some scales, shall we?"

We all nod and raise our instruments. The woodwinds had put them together while he was talking, the brass at the beginning of class. I glance over at Leo with his trumpet. He seems to be struggling with his valves. He bows into his mouthpiece, a random note exiting. I see a few of the flutists jump, including the Calypso girl. Everyone busts out laughing, even Mr. Fletcher. I realized in sophomore year we had a pretty small band, only about 25 students. What we lacked in numbers, we made up for in talent. Or sheer luck, I don't really know.

I had always sat behind the clarinets; all the trombones had. Leo, Travis, and Connor, the trumpets, sat to our right; Frank, the tuba, to our left; next to him, the bass clarinetist, Eliza. In the front row, the order went: Nico, our alto sax; Jason, our bari sax; then the three clarinets: Annabeth (who was right in front of me), Katie, and Reyna. Will, who played oboe, was next, followed by the flutes, Hazel, Rachel, and Calypso. And finally, the lonely piccolo, Grover. I glance behind him at the percussion. Thalia, Luke, Piper, and the new girl are all paying attention, and I realize I had spaced out while everyone played a chromatic scale. I quickly throw my trombone up, but I accidentally whack something with the slide, which just so happens to be fully extended. I hear a loud clarinet squeak, and realize it was the back of Annabeth's head.

Oops.

I hear Peter stifle a laugh, and Annabeth turns around to face me.

"Ow," she says, and I feel my cheeks heat up.

"Sorry! Are you okay?" She nods and turns back around. I glance at Peter and shrug before realizing the scale had ended.

"Okay, class, I know you don't want to be cooped up inside all day, so when I call your section, please come get this music and after we sight-read it once, we'll be done for the day. Percussion." Piper goes up and grabs the music for her section before Mr. Fletcher calls the trumpets, Leo running up and grabbing them. Eventually, Mr. Fletcher calls trombone, and I grab the papers before passing them to Peter and Octavian. I look at the music, a Star Wars medley. This should be interesting to sight-read. Mr. Fletcher gestures for us to get ready, and I raise my trombone, avoiding Annabeth's head carefully. I train my eyes on the music, reading as best I can with dyslexia. My mind goes into what I like to call "music mode," and when we finish the piece, I've barely missed any notes.

"Good job, everyone! I'll be assigning section leaders soon. You're dismissed," Mr. Fletcher says before heading over to his computer.

Now, if you've ever been in a band room when you're dismissed, you'll know what I'm talking about when I say it's absolute chaos. I quickly put my trombone away and head out into the hallway, Jason and Grover following behind me. We head to our lockers, and I glance at my schedule.

"I have Chemistry," I tell them, glancing at their schedules over their shoulders.

"Nope," they say at the same time.

"Maybe we'll have a class together this afternoon? I should probably head over there, it's on the other side of the school. I'll see you guys later." I wave at them before walking to the Chemistry classroom. Apparently, I walk a little slower than I thought because the bell rings as soon as I walk in. I glance up at the teacher before walking over to the only open seat. Luckily, it's right next to Annabeth. I'm grateful for a familiar face.

"How's your head?" I ask, holding back a laugh.

"Haha. I'm fine."

"You sure? You've got a pretty big bump there." She touches the back of her head lightly.

"Do not."

"Oh, maybe it's just your ego," I say before turning to face the teacher again. I'm about to laugh when she smacks me lightly.

"That was for hitting me in the head."

"Mine was an accident!" I say, but she just rolls her eyes and focuses on the teacher, who's started calling roll.

This is going to be an interesting school year.