The picture to the right is what an oboe looks like, for those who don't know.
*****************************************
Five more minutes.
I squinted my eyes at the clock that hung above the door of the math classroom.
Five more minutes until the end of the day. Five more minutes until freedom.
Make that four minutes and forty-three seconds… forty-two… forty-one…
The rhythm of the ticking clock seemed to mesmerize me.
I can’t wait to go home and relax… maybe take a nap or watch some TV…
When the second-hand hit the twenty, a sudden wave of disappointment washed over me.
I had to stay after school.
Ugh. Why did I ever agree to take lessons with Brian?
With the final three minutes of class, I kicked myself for agreeing to stay after school instead of starting my math assignment like the rest of the class did.
Finally the last bell of the day sang throughout the building. The students flooded into the halls, grabbed their backpacks and darted out of the school as if it were on fire. Meanwhile, I dragged myself to my locker and carelessly shoved all of my books into my backpack and made my way to the band room.
Wouldn’t it be great if Brian doesn’t show up? I hoped that this would be the case. Maybe he’ll forget. Maybe he has something else to do after school and can’t make it today. Maybe…
“Oh, hey, Mia.” Oh, great. I just had to bump into Brian.
“Oh, um, hi.” I plastered a smile onto my face.
“So, you ready for the lesson?”
“Yeah, totally!” I lied in that awkward high-pitched nervous voice that I had earlier today.
An awkward silence followed us to the band room. Once we arrived, I grabbed my oboe from the back of the room.
“You’ve never played an oboe before, right?” he asked.
“Yep,” I confirmed. “I’ve never done anything with music. Besides listening to it, of course.”
“Do you have a favourite band?”
“Lucky Seven. Have you ever heard of them?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard a few of their songs. They’re a good band.”
More awkward silence.
“So we’ll start with the basics, okay?” Brian jumped into the lesson. “I’ll show you how to put the oboe together."
Really? Did he think I was stupid or something?
“You don’t have to go that basic, I’m sure I can figure it out,” I blurted, jamming two random pieces together.
“No no, hold up!” He ripped the two pieces from my hands, then bit his tongue, regretting his sudden outbreak. “Sorry about that… It’s just that these two pieces don’t go together. If you forced them in, you could have broken the instrument.”
“Ah, right… Maybe I do need those basics after all.”
Brian showed me how to put together the oboe; It wasn’t too difficult. Hopefully the whole music-thing was that easy.
“Good work,” Brian smiled. “Next, this is an oboe reed. To make a sound out of it, you first have to get it really wet.”
I popped the reed in my mouth and licked the daylights out of it.
“Now put it into the oboe and put your lips like this…” Brian’s lips formed an “oh,” “ah,” and “om” sequence as he put the reed in his mouth.
Easy enough.
“And blow.” The gorgeous sound of Brian’s oboe sang throughout the band room. “Now you try.”
That thing sounded really, really cool. Maybe playing the oboe wouldn’t be so bad.
I followed Brian’s lips, took a monster breath, blew into the instrument…
But nothing came out.
A sudden rush of redness rushed to my cheeks. Why couldn’t I get it?
“That’s okay, getting a sound out of it is hard. Wet the reed a little more and try again.”
Spitting into the reed, I squeezed my lips together and made a sad attempt to blow into the instrument. Brian looked like he wanted to plug his ears, and I couldn't blame him; the thing sounded like a dying duck.
“That’s a good start.” Haha, yeah right. I was probably the worst oboist to ever face the planet. Brian probably meant that it was the opposite of a good start.
“Alright, now I’ll show you some fingerings.” He flipped his Accent on Achievement book open and pointed to a fingering position, D or something. All I could do is raise an eyebrow in confusion.
“Uh… you do know how to read, right?” His green eyes glared at me.
“Well… about that…”
“Brian! Hey Brian, it’s 3:30!” A short girl with two light brown braids smiled brightly and waved at us with car keys in her hand.
“Hannah, you’re on time today,” Brian joked, then turned back to me. “Mia, this is my friend, Hannah. She’s a percussionist in the band, and she’s my ride home. Hannah, this is Mia. She’s the new oboist.”
“Oooh, the girl who came in late today!” she giggled. “I guess we have something in common: we’re both late all the time.” I chuckled and nodded in agreement.
“So I’m free for awhile tonight.” Hannah changed the subject. “I was wondering if maybe we could go out for ice cream before I drive you home, Brian; my treat. Oh, and Mia, you’re more than welcome to come too if you want.”
“Sure, sounds fun!” Wow, this Hannah girl seemed pretty friendly.
***
After a relatively short car ride, we pulled into the parking lot of Blue Moon Ice Cream. I had never been to this place before, but it looked really good.
Everyone ordered their ice cream and we grabbed a table.
“So, Mia,” Hannah turned to me, “why’d you decide to join band?”
“To be honest, it was kind of an accident,” I admitted, spilling a bit of my chocolate ice cream. “I wanted to be in Drawing, but that didn’t work out…” I trailed off, not wanting to go into the details.
“Well I promise you’ll have a lot of fun in band, don’t worry. And you’ll be spending a lot of time in band too pretty soon.”
“Yep, we’ve got a big half-time show coming up soon for the Homecoming football game,” Brian added.” In a few weeks, we’ll be putting some time in after school to work on the show.”
“Oh, really…?” I pretended to be excited, but in reality I was dreading spending even more time at school than I had to.
“Yeah, the rehearsals get pretty intense, so make sure you know your parts well. I can help you with it, of course.” A warm smile formed on Brian’s face.
Last year, I saw the Homecoming half-time show, and it looked impossibly hard; there was no way I could perform something like that. I was seriously starting to regret joining band. At least the people in it were nice, though
Well, most of them anyway.
YOU ARE READING
Note to Self: Join Band
Ficção Adolescente"I squeezed my lips together and made a sad attempt to blow into the instrument. Brian looked like he wanted to plug his ears, and I couldn't blame him; the thing sounded like a dying duck. How would I ever learn to play the oboe?" When Mia Beech's...
