***
The band room buzzes like a beehive. People are finding seats in their sections. The woodwinds take their places up front. The brass files in behind. The drum line occupies the space behind everyone. They've set up their drums on stationary stands so they don't have to wear harnesses inside.
Some folks are playing. I can make out A Hard Day's Night, Yesterday, and of course, Eleanor Rigby. I guess they are making one last attempt to get the show music memorized before Mr. Z goes section by section and checks to see if everyone has memorized their parts.
I walk sideways to my spot at the end of the trumpet row. I feel like I'm walking on a tightrope. If I lose my balance I might stumble and land in someone's lap.
Third trumpet. It's lonely down here by the baritones and trombones. I like it, though. No pressure to perform. Sometimes I wonder if I disappeared would anyone even notice? Don't get me wrong, I love contributing my part. In fact, I'm not sure I could physically ever handle playing way up in the first trumpets during a concert or half-time show. I think my anxiety would get the best of me.
Taura and all the first trumpets are all the way at the other end of the trumpet row. Quentin and Jason are down there playing Paper-Rock-Scissors. Kayla is actually emptying her spit valve at this very moment. I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it with my own two eyes. I look past her and notice that Taura is staring at me with a somewhat menacing look on her face.
Whoa! Wasn't expecting that!
I look away instinctively and realize that I probably look like the biggest doof in the world. I slowly turn back and make a casual gesture with my arms as if I'm stretching. Maybe I can sneak a peek and see if Taura is giving me the stank eye. I just want to make sure I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing.
Sure enough, if eyes were guns and stares were bullets, Taura would be committing a world-class drive-by right now.
Crap.
I look down quickly, fidgeting with my valves and tuning slides. I left my trumpet case in my trunk, so I pull out a mini bottle of valve oil that I keep in my handy belt pack and start reading the label. Hmm. It says "Mineral Oil." Good to know.
Aaaand, there's nothing else to read.
A slight panic settles in on me. My heart starts racing. She gets under my skin. I just want to go home. I want to be on my roof, in the moonlight, listening to Beethoven and texting Chew. I want to be home at the piano sitting next to Mom playing Hey Jude. I want to be anywhere but here.
Mom. Why now?
A low rumble from outside signals the possibility of another summer storm. Thunder. It sounds angry, like random rolls on the timpani. It's unpredictable. Slowly, one by one, drop by drop, rain starts falling. The roof is metal, so it's loud. It builds in intensity and I close my eyes. I'm trying my best not to freak out in front of everyone. I fight back tears, but as the sound of rain crescendos, so does the pain.
Of all the times I could break down, why does it have to be here and now? I'm surrounded by a ton of people when all I really want is to be by myself. I need space. The room is closing in one me. And Taura is at the end of the row killing me softly with her gaze of doom. At least she looks halfway funny with her black eyes from the water bottle incident.
I try to hide in the humor, but even thinking about Taura's black eyes aren't pushing back my emotions. It isn't working. I pick up my folder and flip through my music, but I don't really see anything. My eyes are watering and everything is blurry. I can literally hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I can't breathe. I need fresh air. I need to leave.
That's it, I can't do this. I'm leaving now...
Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound snaps me out of it. It's a conductor's baton being tapped on the music stand at the front of the room.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Z says from the podium, calling everyone's attention to the front. "Before we get started I've got a few announcements to make."
The din of the room dies down as each section settles down. Instruments are resting in laps and eyes are forward now.
"First of all, I'd like to say a big thank you to everyone in this room today for all your hard work."
Focus on Mr. Z, Rigs. Focus.
I can feel my heartbeat slowing down. The world around me begins to stop swirling. Mr. Z's voice has a calming, in-control effect on me.
"...last week was a great start," He continues. "I'm excited about this morning's work on the field. We're making great progress. After lunch today, we'll head back out and hit it hard some more."
Everyone shuffles in their seats. The band seems to kind of buzz for a few seconds as people make comments to the person next to them.
"Listen up." His voice commands respect.
You can tell just by listening to him that he loves doing this. He loves the kids, the music, and the half time show.
"I want to have all four songs plus the percussion feature on the field by Friday and you guys are working hard to make that happen. Great job, everybody."
The band erupts into a chaotic clamor as everyone shares their reactions with the person next to them. With over one hundred people in our band, Mr. Z has learned to allow a few seconds of these outbursts before he tightens the line back up.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Mr. Z reels everyone back in again and it hits me that I feel normal. I am feeling normal right now.
Thank you, Mr. Z.
As the room falls silent again, he is about to say something but he pauses for a second. He's gathering his thoughts. It takes longer than usual.
"Folks, I've got a hard announcement to make right now." He's rubbing his temples as if he has a headache. "Ellis, would you please join me up here."
Ellis walks slowly but confidently up to the front. He looks strangely unhappy. Too serious. Something is up.
I look over at Chewie across the room. He shrugs his shoulders and mouths the words, "I don't have a clue."
"This weekend we got word that Ellis and his family are moving across the country. His dad got a new job. Sometimes things like this come out of nowhere. Although it will be a new adventure for him, we're sure going to miss him."
Ellis looks like he's fighting back tears, but he holds it together. He nods silently.
"Because this is so sudden, and something we weren't really prepared for, it is really a shock." Mr. Z is visibly upset, but trying to keep things smooth for the band.
I wonder if he knew this morning when I showed up late. Of course. He had to have known. Maybe that's why he didn't look up from the drill clipboard.
"So, as you all know, this leaves us with very big shoes to fill. We'll need to pass the torch on to a new drum major. Ellis will be with us through this week and then he and his family will be on a plane to the West Coast."
The room is totally silent except for the sound of rain on the roof.
I'm stunned. I don't know what to think. I guess I'll never get to know Ellis as well as I thought I might could have. But even more so, it begins to hit me that the drum major position is now open.
Holy tryouts, Batman!
As Mr. Z continues to explain the details, my mind is a blur. A tryout for replacement drum major will be held this coming Friday. That's four days from now.
FOUR DAYS, PEOPLE!
There's a small part of me leaping for joy. This is my chance. I can do this. It's time to step up and make mom proud. This is the opportunity I've been waiting for.
No. There is absolutely no way.
And then she shows up. The other part of me, the sad and dark part. The one that speaks loudest most of the time. Who am I kidding? Taura is a shoe-in for drum major. Why do we even need to have tryouts. Why am I even getting my hopes up?
I'm sitting silently. I'm overwhelmed and speechless. I feel like I've just been hit by a ton of bricks. Why is life so unfair? I just wanted a year where I could exist in band without Taura being the actual drum major. I can't even imagine how bad it's going to be when she's drum major. And that is going to start a lot sooner than I had hoped.
***
Thank you so much for reading this far! I hope you like the story! Vote if you do! Want to be part of my VIP book launch team when the book is published? Sign up for the email list for details when it's time! http://bit.ly/rksladelist