Percabeth - The Band Experience

Prologue

      The deep, resounding voice of my band director carried across 8 sections of anxious kids, biting their lips or fidgeting with anything they could get their hands on. I was no different, anxiously sifting through layers of sheet music and instructional packets. My oboe lay on the ground next to me, free of grease spots due to a trusty tidbit of rubbing alcohol. Next to it sat my reed, still soaking in the small container named a "soaking cup". I felt myself losing focus, deep in my own anxiousness, when someone random trombone player trapped me on the shoulder.

"Hey, pass it down!", he whispered. I realized with a start that the sight-reading papers were right in my lap, and I had held up the entire section. Surprisingly, the kid didn't look mad at all. In fact, he was grinning— no, that was just a smirk. "Attentive, aren't you?", he said, snickering thereafter. I cast him a strong glare. "It was a rare occurrence, okay?", I hissed. I knew I shouldn't have been so rude, but with the anxiety surrounding the project ahead of me, I really couldn't help it. The boy, obviously taken aback, raised his hands in defeat. "Okay, Miss. Perfect, I'll watch my tongue next time...", he exclaimed, pretending to cower as he leaned back in his chair. I sighed and hugged my arms, wanting so badly to just faint on the spot. Then again, I'd just draw attention to myself.

The boy next to me cast a glance and let out a large laugh. "You mean people are actually scared about this thing? We're just sight reading and playing our stuff!"

"Yeah, I may or may not be able to fulfill my second-grade dream of getting into this band. No biggie."

I picked up my oboe, noticing that I was a little late to do so. My reed was way too soaked, so much so that if I had squeezed it just a little tighter, it would've snapped in half. Suddenly that godforsaken prat leaned over and pointed at my instrument, snickering heavily. "You play the clarinet? I swear, there's about 700 of yo-"

"THIS IS THE OBOE!"

Mr. Wilson raised his eyebrows with me and carried on. I cursed to myself, knowing that I had missed everything. "Ooo, Miss Prissy is using vile words" he said, obviously unaffected by the amount of people pointing and laughing at us.

I leaned in and grumbled in the rudest tongue I could manage "If you don't shut your-"

"Going straight for the kiss, aren't you? Well, I appreciate the gesture, Miss, but didn't we just meet?", he chuckled. I made a sound of annoyance, when he raised his hand. "Mr. Wilson, I'm really sorry, but I kind of need to use the restroom. Am I allowed to- okay, thanks, you're the best, teach!"

A few kids snickered, while the others just rolled their eyes. I didn't need to be a detective to find out that routine was quite customary. Just as he set his Trombone down, however, I had the perfect idea. As the ratling scurried out of sight, I grabbed hold of his slide and loosened it, just enough so that it wouldn't fall off. I then channeled my thoughts toward what Mr. Wilson was saying.

Apparently the boy wasn't blowing away, because he came back within two minutes. "What did I miss?", he said casually, crossing his arms behind his head.

"We're starting just about now. Auditions are being called based on last name in reverse-alphabetical order.", Mr. Wilson responded, a slight but noticeable edge to his voice.

"Are we like, going to-"

"As I want to get these auditions down relatively quickly, you will be practicing in front of the group."

The boy simply nodded, keeping his air of nonchalance. I could barely keep a straight face thinking of him playing his best, just for his slide to fall flat to the floor. "We'll start with you, Mr. Zahorik."

Time seemed to speed up as the dread finally set in. My stomach seemed to churn, but not from hunger. I only perked up when the trombone player next to me leaned over to whisper something in her ear. "My turn's coming up! Prepare to be amazed, missy."

Sure enough, Mr. Wilson called out the name "Perseus Jackson", and he went straight to playing position.

And just like that, his slide flew 50 yards off from its starting position.

"Shiiiiii-ngle!", he said, barely catching himself. He dashed over to the slide's location, checking for any dents. By some miracle, there were none. He ran back to his spot, casting a glare as I burst out with laughter. "I'll get you back for this...", he mumbled. He proceeded to play his piece, and wonderfully so, as he hopelessly outshined all the other players before him. I felt my glare returning, wanting so much to beat him.

And before I knew it, my opportunity came.

"Annabeth Chase", Mr. Wilson called.

I breathed in, scarcely able to contain the tremors crawling from my legs, to my arms, and finally up to my mouth. I breathed in, and played with all my heart.

As I played, all of my fear seemed to dissipate. It was just me and my wonderful instrument that was not a clarinet.

Suffice to say, I made it into Honors.

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A/N: I would like to clarify that this is obviously not accurate to the honors band audition experience. I wanted to add an introduction to the characters in a way that incorporates both band and funny social interaction, so yeah... I have tried out for (and succeeded into getting in) honors and know what it's like. Just pretend that the guy was in a hurry and had a rushed schedule...

For the next chapter, there is a couple-year time skip to where Annabeth is in 9th grade... and has to do marching band! Ta-da! The prologue was just to show when the two met.

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