When You're In Love with a girl

Chapter 19, Events in Band Class

EVENTS IN BAND CLASS

"Your playing needs more emotion!" A common refrain that is hard to implement. Easy to say, hard to do.

Arya, Laras, Roger, and I are practicing our piece for the Queen concert. We've chosen to play Bohemian Rhapsody, the piece that Mr. Berswick originally suggested for us to play. I love the fusion of rock and opera in it. Rhapsody means a piece with many original parts. It's certainly an interesting piece.

But the problem lies in the fact that I just can't play loud. It's embarrassing to play loud, in my opinion. Like how I can only whisper and not yell. I have not yelled for years.

Arya plays her part perfectly every single time. It's embarrassing. Once I heard her tell Roger, "This piece is so easy; we should have chosen something a bit more challenging." Of course, Arya said it when she thought I wasn't listening. Frankly, I don't mind the obvious attack on how badly I have been playing alto saxophone part one.

At band rehearsal, I realize that I don't want to continue dragging our group down. I will put down my pride so our ensemble can win the competition.

"Arya..." I say, leaning over.

Arya is adjusting her sax's mouthpiece. Arya doesn't hear me. I suppose that is to be expected with the loud warming-up sounds the other band students are making.

"Arya!"

"Yes?"

I compose myself and force myself to look at her in her clear eyes. "I was wondering if you would like to trade parts... like trade alto one and alto two for our group piece....?"

"Do you mean Bohemian Rhapsody? No thanks," she says and smiles politely.

I frown outwardly and yell and groan inside. Why not? Why not? It would save our group performance. I don't push it, though, because my pride is telling me I should stop before I embarrass myself.

I am prideful, but I am also self-conscious. How does that work? I don't understand. Someone famous once said people are contradictions and personalities don't exist. Do I believe in someone famous? Maybe I do.

I believe Arya plays better than me, but I also think I could play alto one very well. I suppose it just comes down to confidence. How confident am I?

Not confident.

The next day at flex period rehearsal, Mr. Berswick tells me outright, "Alie, nobody can hear you when you play. If your playing was a voice, the voice level would a whisper. You need to shout. Do you see this part? Where it goes, Mamaaaa, just killed a man? You have to belt it."

I cannot belt. How many times have I reiterated. I glance at Arya; she purposely avoids my eyes. I nod, even though I know I cannot follow through his expectations.

"Laras, your rhythm in measures 24-35 are completely off. Play it for me."

Laras plays it, and Mr. Berswick frowns. "It should be like this," he says and sings the parts with various "doos" and "duhs."

"And Roger! You have to play quieter at the end!" Roger nods solemnly and looks at the ground. Mr. Berswick turns to all of us. "You guys! Do you remember how the song goes?" He sighs. "It has to be right! Do you guys want to win this thing?"

We all nod.

"Well then, show me that! Give me what you've got! Alie, belt it! Laras, fix the rhythm! Roger, quiet down! And Arya, keep playing well!" Mr. Berswick is breathing heavily from his impassioned speech.

Mr. Berswick normally is never so into something to yell like that. I nod my head quickly, eyes bold because I am scared and twitchy; I don't want to let him down.

I fail again. Story of my life.

*****—A week later, December 2nd—

Life gets better. Don't I always scream the falls and cherish the rises of life? I am finding college preparatory biology class interesting; we are dissecting frogs. I am enjoying the book we are reading in Accelerated English class, Life of Pi by Yann Martel. It really puts into perspective how small my problems are.

I laugh: I just have to play loudly for a little group ensemble piece in order to make my band instructor happy... I just have to be nice and try not to lead Tom on and we can be good intellectual friends... I just have to pretend to be Byron's girlfriend to make my mom happy. I don't have to try to stay alive on a boat in the middle of the ocean with a tiger.

So at the rehearsal of Bohemian Rhapsody today, I take my fresh perspective and apply it. I play louder, bolder. I mess up; oh well. Unfortunately, Roger isn't at school today for some odd reason so we play without him. It goes well! Arya and I smilingly make our way to sixth period Geometry Honors class. In math class, it's a good day as we get back our unit tests and our math teacher congratulates me on getting a 100. Arya frowns; she made one small mistake and it cost her seven points. I tell her it's okay, but inside I am soaring because finally I did something better than Arya. Usually, our math scores are matched at 100, but finally, Arya messed up.

I know it is wrong of me to take happiness in other people's pain, but it's not like I am gloating in her face. I hope Arya never reads these words. I care a lot about how Arya feels about me. I wish so hard that Arya could be my good friend, that we could hang out a lot like how Tom and I used to, except instead of hanging out we would chat together. But whenever we have a class together, or have some time together, I am always the one who has to initiate the conversation, and she never starts a conversation.

Is this a safe space? I... I think I'm falling in love with her.

Arya and I walk to band class together, as per our routine. Band class goes well, also, as we run through the pieces we are going to play for our winter concert. In the middle of The Gocta Waterfall (one of our pieces), there is a ringing sound. Mr. Berswick stops conducting, and Jeremy, the first seat trombone player commands everyone to stop playing.

"Thanks, Jeremy, but you don't have yell," says Mr. Berswick, nodding his chin at Jeremy as he walks over and gets the phone. I look over at him in impersonal interest. He starts off smiling, but then, presto chango! His face takes on an at once shocked, at once serious expression. "Alie, you need to go to the office." He speaks into the phone again, pauses, and adds to me, "Bring your backpack and all your stuff."

As I head to the office, I expect the worst. Once I get there, I realize that my imagined worst is nothing compared to the real thing... 

Author's Note: Hello, reader! Remember, these two updates are for the two Saturdays that I will be unable to post updates. I hope you enjoy this first update!

Please be sure to vote! Voting will help this story be seen by more people.

All comments will be responded to—eventually, I promise. I will not be responding to comments on my trip, but I do enjoy reading and responding to all of your helpful comments. Thank you.

-Tara