The Homecoming Countdown

Day 14

"Dang it, dang it, dang it!"

I walk as fast as I can down the hallway without running. If only I had done better on that math test the first time around, then I wouldn't be late for rehearsal. I turn the corner and run head first into something solid.

"Ow! What the-" I don't finish my sentence when I see what I ran into. My eyes meet with the bright blue ones of Alfred F. Jones. Yes, he insists on the F. He also happens to be our school's star quarterback. 

"Hey! You're (y/n)!" he says.

That's weird, I don't remember ever telling him my name. "Uh yeah, I'd love to talk, but I'm late for practice. See ya." I maneuver around him and continue down the hall at my fast pace.

"Practice?" Alfred asks following me. Apparently he didn't get the hint to get lost. "I didn't know you're involved in a sport."

"I'm not."

"Then some kind of club?" he asks, still following me. Boy, is he persistent. No wonder he gets on Arthur's nerves.

"I guess you can say that," I mumble. I'm starting to lose my patience with this kid. I round the last corner before the music hallway.

"Well what is it?"

I clench my teeth, and reply the best I can without sounding too hostile. "Why don't you stick around for it and you'll see?"

"Can I?"

I decide it's better not to answer as I walk through the double doors to the band room. I see the drum majors addressing the band. Crap, I'm definitely late. I look around and see Mr. Rome standing in the back of the room by the drums. He's a big patron of the arts, but he's also kind of weird guy. That's probably why he fits in so well with the band. 

I make my way over to him. "Sorry I'm late. I had to make up a test."

Mr. Rome just waves it off. "No biggie. Just set up and sit with your section," he says in a low voice. "The drum majors are just giving the band a few pointers."

I don't say anything back, but on the inside I groan. Mr. Rome calls it 'giving pointers' but I call it 'being nit picky with a large dose of OCD'. It's not fun being told what you're doing wrong, or not doing up to standard, but it's a necessary part of improving as a band. I walk over to my locker as inconspicuously as possible, and pull out my large instrument case. I may play an alto sax and not a tenor, but its case is still bulky.

"Where were you?" Arthur whispers to me when I sit down.

"I had to make up a test," I whisper back. "And I ran into your cousin."

Arthur's eyes widen, but he doesn't say anything back. I point to the doorway where Alfred is standing and watching. Arthur turns to look, and doesn't seem too happy about it. "Why is that git here?"

"He wanted to know what I was in such a rush for," I explain quietly, "so I told him to come find out."

I don't get to explain further since one of the drum majors comes over and tells me to shut up and listen. After what seems like forever, we finally get to do something other than get scolded at. Mr. Rome gets on the podium and tells everyone to put their music away because today is going to be all from memory.

Several kids look panicked, and a few of them try to place their music on the floor in such a way that they can still reference it when necessary. Those are the underclassmen. The upperclassmen all know this is coming. I made a point to warn my section that they better have their music memorized as soon as they can. 

I guess I should explain that when I say my section I mean it, like it literally belongs to me. I'm a section leader, so it practically does belong to me. Me and Arthur. The saxophone section is the only one with two leaders because it's so flipping big. The others only have one.