The Conductor

Chapter Two- Miranda

March 4th, 2015

Today was, like every day, a Band Day. The beginning of every day was reserved for my Band Classes. I played the Tenor Saxophone and the Clarinet, each on a different day. Clarinet on A Days (Periods 1-4), Saxophone on B Days (Periods 5-8). Concert Band, and Beginning Band.

I casually walked into the designated Band Room and walked to my chair, second to the end on the left side of the room in the second row. I set my Clarinet in its case on my seat and walked over to the other side of the room to grab a music stand. I was just beginning to pick one up when someone snuck up behind me and tased either sides of my stomach, causing me to jump three feet in the air, screaming as loud as I could in the process.

I turned around to find my friend, Emma, standing behind me with her essential creepy face on, her brown, fluffy hair falling around her diamond shaped face and her green blue eyes staring into my soul as if they were lasers.

"Hi Emma." I greeted in a teasingly annoyed way.

"Hi." she replied happily. I picked up my music stand and trudged back over to my seat when Mr. Jones walked in carrying a box of envelopes and two very large stacks of papers in his hands.

"Hey guys, I need a few people to stuff envelopes for me." he hollered to the many students who were warming up.

You typically don't meet a guy like Mr. Jones everyday. He was our beloved Band Teacher, there was no one quite like him. He was a hilarious, fun- loving nerd, and you could learn a lot from him sitting in one Band Class Period. Although he loves to have fun, when he talks, you had better dang well listen to him. He means what he says, and he can be harsh, but at the end of the day he is still lovable by almost all of his students. (His students who don't like him are the ones who either don't work hard enough or just don't care. Both are not bright at the end of the day.)

Mr. Jones had a kind face with a round nose and big, blue eyes. He was short, slightly pudgy, and had a receding hairline that my friends always made fun of. It made me feel terrible when they made fun of him. He commonly wore dress shirts closer to winter, but in the springtime he went with a more casual style. He would always crack open a Pepsi in class as he sat behind his computer and worked on more than what he was paid for.

Me, Emma, Collin, Alec, Megan and Kirt all raced to the Timpani Drum where the envelopes were placed. Alongside it two chairs were placed that had two different stacks of papers placed on top of them, the orientation papers, which meant the end of the year was coming soon, and new seventh graders were going to be coming in. Seventh grade orientation was just around the corner, and we were the ones stuck doing Mr. Jones' dirty work. But we didn't mind. In fact, we loved jumping at opportunities to help Mr. Jones so much, you'd think we idolized him. (Not just think. You'd know.)

When we had all met at our rush to the Timpani, we all greeted each other casually. Stuffing envelopes was our favorite thing to do. Strangely, it made me feel a lot like we were Newsies, which that was one of the feelings I loved the most.

While we were stuffing envelopes in our own Broadway musical world, Mr. Jones was warming up the Band with what we like to call "Long Tones," where we breathe in for four counts and play for eight, or whatever Mr. Jones tells us to do. So while they were doing that, we were conversing in our own world.

"Guess who's time machine we found on Main Street this weekend?" I asked in a sing-song voice.

"Let me guess, Mr. Jones'?" Collin replied sarcastically.

"Yes! I have a picture I can prove it!" I replied excitedly, pulling my iPod out of my pocket.

"Miranda, you've really got to get over the whole 'Mr. Jones is a time traveller' theory. Time travel is just in science fiction movies!" said Kirt.

"I beg to differ!" argued Emma. "How do you think the Doctor gets around?"

"Again, science fiction! You guys have got to give it up!" Collin replied.

"No, we really don't." Megan reasoned. "Let them believe what they want, I believe it too."

"Alright, but it's not true."

"YES IT IS!!!" I screamed. The whole Band turned and looked at me like I was a complete dingus. I took just about no shame in what I was representing here.

Let me explain this theory to those of the weak-minded. The Time Traveller Theory consisted of a group of teenage girlfriends who are 110% sure the beloved Mr. Jones is a time traveller. The whole theory started a few months ago, December I believe. It kind of started out of no where, but I think it was one of those theories where you come up with a crazy idea and you convince yourself it's true. We were all so convinced he time travelled, and by coincidence EVERYTHING he did added up to traveling time! We all knew it was true, whether he chose to admit it or not.

When we had finished stuffing as many envelopes as we could, I set the box of letters on the cart Mr. Jones uses to transport his materials to another classroom where he teaches Music Exploration alongside Band. I took my seat at the end of the room and put my Vito Clarinet together, which was obviously kept in peak condition. I had just put the reed on when I heard Megan whisper to me, "How do you know when a Clarinet's playing loud?"

I turned with a look of question on my face. "You can kinda hear it."

I felt my very own face muscles sag into an annoyed frown, the kind of expression you get when your friend tells a stupid joke that should be targeted to someone else. For some reason she thought it was so funny. Maybe because she's a Trumpet, but anyone knows it's the Flutes you can't hear!

I stuck my tongue out at Meg, turned around and continued to screw on my ligature.