This One Time At Band Camp

Chapter 9

"Come in, Zoey," Mr. Gregg says. He waves me into his office and I take a seat across  the desk from him and Mr. Boston. We leave the door open because this really isn't a private matter and the band room will be empty in about 2 minutes.

"I hear your clarinet had a little accident," Boston says. He's sitting on the only corner of the desk not covered with papers. He has his hands on his knees and he's trying to look friendly even though I can see the concern in his eyes. "May we see it?"

"Yeah. Just give me a second to get it," I say. I leave the office to retrieve the 'instrument' from my locker.  I take a deep breath and I carefully pick it up to bring it back to the office.  "Here you go."

Mr. Gregg picks it up and looks at it in shock.  He doesn't even try to hide it. His jaw drops wide open. " I have never seen such an abused instrument. This is the worst I  think I've seen in my entire career, and trust me, I've seen some pretty crazy things." he looks up from the instrument and into my eyes. He gaze makes me feel so ashamed. "Zoey, how could you be so careless?"

"But It's not my fault," I tell him. I'm a little upset that he thinks that I'm at fault here. I didn't do anything wrong. I did exactly as I was told to.  "I left my clarinet in the neat circle the entire section made. We were all the way across the field in our sectional. For the record, I know  exactly what happened. Most of the band probably does too. It was hard to miss that crunch.  It's those stupid trumpets who were being careless. They were shoving each other and running around. I was at attention so I don't know who exactly stepped on it but it was one of th-"

"Relax. No reason to point blame," Mr. Boston says. " Ethan told us just about the same thing happened. What's done is done. Your clarinet is going to need some serious repairs, though. Heck, to be honest, I'm not sure it will ever work again, but we'll try to be optimistic. I can have it sent out to the repair shop next week once school starts.  In the meantime, let's get you back on an instrument."

"Ok," I respond. I'm trying to calm myself but that's hard to do when I get all worked up.  I know everything's going to turn out alright, but I feel pretty flustered. At least they're being fairly calm about this. It's going better than I expected. At least there's a chance it might be fixable. Deep breaths, I tell myself. Deep breaths.

"So we can let you borrow one of the school's clarinets if you wish. We have a couple decent ones back in storage, but Ethan mentioned you may be interested in playing something else." Gregg looks at me through his little square glasses. He looks so small behind such a big desk.

"Anything, please," I say. "I've hated clarinet since the day I picked it up. I'd do anything for a change."

"Well, let's see. You're a woodwind so maybe a saxophone of some kind? You've already got the embouchure down. You'd just have to adjust to carrying something a little heavier. there's also a lot of new fingering you'd have to learn." Boston smiles when he says this. I remember hearing that he played tenor saxophone for the school when he went here. 

"I'd rather stay clear of woodwind if I can," I answer truthfully. " I really dislike the tongue splinters. And the reeds taste really gross."

"I see, " Gregg chimes in. "Maybe a trumpet? You'd probably be good at that. " He gets a devilish smile on his face when he says this.

I give him a look of total disinterest. "I've been around long enough to know that their entire section has enough ego to fill a whole football stadium. Twice. Plus, I'm not that eager to surround myself with people who disregard other instruments."

Boston catches on and saves the day. "You always want to switch everyone to trumpet. We already have a lot. It wouldn't be a good choice for her. If we're going to switch her to brass, we should make sure it's an instrument we need."

I look at him wondering what he's trying to get to and Gregg just looks disappointed, but he nods his head in agreement.

"Well, would you be interested, in like a tuba? Or maybe a baritone?" Boston asks.

"Well I can't read bass clef," I say sorrowfully. And they look really big and heavy. "I think I'll pass."

"Well. Let's make this easier," Gregg says, looking at me. "What would you like to play?"

Hmm. You know I honestly hadn't thought about it yet. I mean. How many instruments can there be to chose from? "Maybe something like a trumpet but not a trumpet because I'm pretty pissed at them now. "

Gregg and Boston both look up and smile at each other. They're beginning to look a bit creepy by the time the finally say something in unison. "Mellophone."