Note to Self: Join Band

Chapter Two

It's not fair! I screamed inside as I made my way to the band room. I took Art Fundamentals for nothing! I got my hopes up for nothing!

My heart raced as I approached the band room door. What was the band like? Were they any good? What kind of music did they play? And…

What instrument would I play?

Oh, no. I didn't even think of that. Of course I have play an instrument! I did a mental face palm. That's what band is all about! Now I really didn't want to go in there. I could only imagine what the teacher's reaction would be when I told them that I had no musical experience whatsoever.

Who was the teacher, anyway?

Hopefully they were nice.

"Ring!" Great, the bell. I was late to Band class and I was two feet away from the door. Sophomore year was already off to a terrible start.

I softly pulled the band door open, hoping that the teacher wouldn't notice.

"Mia? Mia Beech?" I walked in just in time for the teacher to call my name for attendance. This was one of the times when I wished my last name wasn't in the beginning of the alphabet.

 "Um, here!" I raised my hand, tripping over a giant instrument case. Great first impression. The teacher just sighed, marking something down on her attendance list. Maybe she wouldn't mark me tardy on the first day of school.

I sat down in the closest chair, next to a bed-headed boy, and observed my surroundings.

It looked like people were sitting next to alike instruments. I didn't know what any of them were. There were fifty, maybe fifty-five students in the room. More eyes to see me humiliate myself. Illegible sheet music rested on the stands. Wait, was I supposed to know how to read that?

"You guys can just warm up for a bit." The teacher's loud voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Mia, can you come here for minute?"

Music, or should I say un-synced noise, filled the room as I headed to the director. How would I explain my situation to her?

"I'm Ms. Kemp," she started, flashing me a smile.  "What instrument do you play?" I guess I couldn't avoid the dreaded question anymore. 

"I… um…" For a second, I thought about lying to her, but that would put me into a bigger mess. "I actually don't play one."

Her coffee-brown eyes practically popped out of her head. "Then why are you in band?"

"There was a… misunderstanding in my schedule."

Another agitated sigh came from the so-called Ms. Kemp. That was the second time she did that to me today. "I'll just put you on cymbals for now, but you're going to have to learn…" She took a glance at her class list."…You're going to have to learn how to play the oboe." With that, she called a student over to us.

"This is Brian Keifer. He is, or was, our only oboist, and he's been in the band program for five years." So that was it; she put me on oboe-- whatever that was-- because there weren't enough players.

Ms. Kemp turned to Brian and explained the situation to him.

"So can you give her oboe lessons or something, Brian?" she suggested.

"Sure, I could do that." He gave me a small smile. "I'm available after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. What about you?" Wow, someone had his schedule laid out nicely.

"Um, yeah, great! Today's fine!" I replied in an unusually high voice. Oh, wait, today was Tuesday. I suppose I had to stay after school.

Ms. Kemp muttered an "I'll be right back" and headed to the instrument storage area in the back of the room. A few moments later, she returned with what looked like a small suitcase.

"Take this home with you," she said, handing me the case. "Be very careful, that thing is worth thousands. And be careful with the reed, those are worth about twelve dollars each."

Free instrument? Awesome!

"Here's the rental slip. Take this home to your parents and bring fifty dollars back as soon as possible, please."

Or not. Darn.

"You'll be playing cymbals for the homecoming parade in October, so you'll have some time to learn the oboe basics."

Ms. Kemp handed me two hand-cymbals and sheet music and ended the conversation. I went to my spot in the back of the band room by all the other percussionists. By the time she got up on her podium-thing (which made her look even taller than she already was), the band was just chatting instead of warming up.

"I'm supposed to explain the class rules to you guys, but I'm sure you already know since you've been in band for a while, so we can skip it." The students breathed out sighs of relief in response to the teacher's statement.  "We can start with a quick B flat concert scale instead." What in the world was that?! I guess I was supposed to know what it was because the band instantly followed her directions and the scale thing sounded amazing.

"Since you had time before, you guys should be warmed up by now, so we can get started on the Homecoming music. Take out 'Victory.'" Everyone shuffled through their band folders while Ms. Kemp chatted to the group about how summer vacation was.

As directed, I pulled out the song. The unfamiliarity of the symbols left me dumbfounded. What were all those things? I felt as if the music was mocking me with all of the different notes on them.

I was too wrapped up in my thoughts to hear anything around me, but Ms. Kemp's loud voice snapped me out of my trance.

"I know you guys are just sight reading this, so it won't be perfect. But let's give this piece a shot!"

She was right; it'd be far from perfect, considering I was practically dyslexic in the world of music.

Ms. Kemp waved her arms around in a ridiculous way, cuing the band to play. As hard as I tried, I just couldn't make anything out of the notes. I was totally lost. But, looking on the bright side, the experience made me appreciate knowing how to read words.

Another cue came from Ms. Kemp and the group stopped playing. "That actually wasn't as bad as I expected!" she commented, getting some chuckles out of the group. "But we need to work through the beginning." The teacher called out different groups of instruments to play, and luckily, us percussionists were not mentioned.

This was the perfect chance to get some much needed help.

I glanced around the area, looking for any friendly or familiar face. Surprisingly, Brian was nearby playing a xylophone-like instrument. Wait-- why wasn't he on the oboe?

"Hey, Brian!" I whispered to my right. He smiled at me as if saying, "What is it?"

"Um…" His eyes made me forget what I wanted to say. They were so green that it shocked me. I mean, they were really green. Really really green, kind of like a marker. Were eyes like that even natural?

Luckily, after a few awkward seconds, the question popped back into my head. "Did your oboe break or something? Why are you playing the bells?" Shoot, that was the wrong question!

"Oboes aren't usually played in marching band," he answered, "so Ms. Kemp put me on the glockenspiel." So that's what that thing was called. And that's why she put me on the cymbals.

"Uh, right. That's cool." I didn't even bother asking the real question of how to read the music; if I did, Brian wouldn't have enough time to answer, anyway. Ms. Kemp finished the sectional a few moments after we finished our conversation.

I figured that I'd save the question for my lesson after school. Brian would have plenty of time to answer then, since we were most likely going to stay after for a while. I mean, it's not like you can teach someone five years of music knowledge in a few hours.

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I know it's been practically forever since I've uploaded any new chapters for this story, but I finally got around to doing it! Thank you for being so patient. Hopefully I can upload the next chapter faster.

~✮XyXy✮