The Perfect Kid

Part 3

The next few weeks were a blur of percussion practices, lunches with Seth, and tire swings. I was shocked when I found out it was already December. One day at winter percussion, I was brought back down to earth.

“Declan, can I talk to you?” said my instructor, whose name I found out was Zeke.

“Um, sure,” I said, packing up my snare.

“You’re doing really well for your first year,” he said with a warm smile. “But you’re falling behind the other kids. I’d like to give you private lessons, if that’s okay with you. No charge.” My heart sank into my stomach. I thought I had been doing well.

“Yeah, I guess that would work.”

“Excellent. You will stay after practice for an hour and work with me.” Zeke turned to go, but I stopped him.

“What is it?”

“What is what?” we asked, confused.

“Is it my marching, my playing, what?” Sympathy washed over his face.

“Oh, Declan. You’re doing fine. Your rhythm just needs a little work.”

“Oh. Okay,” I said, dejected. Zeke looked like he might say something else, but he opted to hug me instead. I squirmed awkwardly until he got the message and let go.

“Okay then. I’ll see you on Thursday, Declan.”

The next Thursday, I waited obediently outside Zeke’s office after practice, doodling in the margins of my geometry homework. When Zeke came out, he stared down at what I had done.

“Those are awesome.”

“What is?”

“Your drawings. The dragon really looks alive.”

“Thanks,” I said, flattered.

He gestured into his office and I followed him inside. Again, I was overwhelmed with the scent of peppermint. It was quite pleasant. When he shut the door, I was surprised at just how big it was in there. He had a desk complete with lockable drawers, a roomy couch and two plush seats. He had a window complete with it’s own shade looking out into the hallway. There were pictures all over the walls. Some of cars, some of sports teams, some of him with students. He even had a basketball shoved in the corner. It was all very cool.

Zeke pulled out a practice pad and two sticks from under his desk. “I think today we’ll work on your flams. Can you start from measure twelve?” And just like that, my private with Zeke flew by. I was taken off guard when he said it was time for me to pack up and go home. I thanked him and left.

My mind was so preoccupied with sticking technique and packing up all of my things, I almost didn’t notice the Blonde Boy standing at the other end of the band hall. He was just standing there horrified, looking at me. I waited for him to move, and when he didn’t I said, “Hey. Whatcha doing here?”

“Lost my backpack, came back...” he mumbled. We both waited for each other to speak. He eventually broke the silence.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I just finished a private lesson with Zeke.” I wondered if I should be embarrassed about this. Too late.

“You...In his office?” The Blonde Boy looked terrified.

“Yeah.” The way he was staring at me, I felt like I should apologise or something. I heard footsteps and peppermint wafted over me.

“Caleb,” came Zeke’s voice. The Blonde Boy, Caleb I suppose, nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Yes?” he said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You should go,” Zeke said, forcefully. Caleb ran off, leaving his backpack again. Zeke spun stalked back in the direction of his office. I was left standing there, utterly bewildered.