You're first chair, and I'm second, and there is no third. We're bari saxophones which is about the stupidest instrument to march with, right before the tuba, but we like the big, deep sound you get when you play that low C, that growl you can feel through the mouthpiece. That's why we put up with the heavy piece of metal attached to our chests.
Don't misunderstand this. This isn't a love letter. You're too much like a teddy bear for me. I need a dark guy, a guy that is okay with quiet, because I'm quiet. You are not.
You are loud, and you make up the heart of the band. You have pride. You have spirit, and you aren't afraid. You aren't afraid like me to show that wild side that will do anything to help the band out.
Tonight though... while we were cheering on the football team crushing the Green Wave you weren't loud. You weren't funny. You only threatened my life once.
As our bleachers erupted with cheers you stayed silent. As we creeped up to fifty points you rolled your eyes at the obnoxious fans right beside us, and I thought of what you would whisper as an insult, as a joke. With that stupid plastic horn lowing in jubilation and that drum beating out our drum cadence with slight variations that I'm sure they didn't mean you glowered and sulked, and as we were walking away from a game won fifty-three to seventeen I was glad my dad was taking me home.
I'll mind my own business because you're a sophmore, and I'm a freshmen (like that's such a big difference) because I'm not your friend though you're mine. I won't ask because you won't tell. I can listen, though. I'm good at that. I can listen to you talk to other people who ask you what's wrong because you're that important. If you aren't having fun, no one has fun or at least the fun factor goes down a bit. Some would call it eavesdropping, but I won't since you told me in your thundercloud mood, "You don't hear anything I say tonight." Which to me, is an invitation to listen and stay silent. I'm good at silence.
"I'm kind of having girl troubles," you tell the mellophone behind you who won't help your mood but encourage it. "But it's not that I can't get one."
No, you could get one if you wanted. You have no looks but you're charismatic. You have the humor I have and the guts to say it out loud to everyone.
But there is one girl who you just have to have, who remains ignorant. The colorguard girl, the one with the red hair gains more information. "The girl I've had my eye on since seventh grade, the girl I've wanted since eigth. She's in this band."
Ashlyn, alto sax player, first chair. She's pretty and sweet and dumb.
I don't understand. She doesn't get your sarcasm. She doesn't laugh at your jokes. You are built off of humor. Why are you pining away after some girl who's sweet and dumb and doesn't understand your jokes whether their dirty or not? She doesn't understand you. Why? Why? Why?
I missed being yelled at today and then, when I reply seriously, you saying with fake anger, "Just kidding, gosh!" I missed all of the, "I'm going to kill you if..." I even missed that word you scream, the word I hate and tire of so quickly... "Fail!" You repeat it over and over but today you didn't utter it once. I missed the jokes that weren't directed at me but that I overheard and laughed at. I missed playing with the heart of the band.
Ashlyn didn't cause your anger. You wouldn't ask her out on a date because that is the one thing you're unsure of. Maybe she got back with that tenor drum, that douche bag as you so fondly call him. You were mad at him today, that was the first thing I heard. How gay that tenor drum is. Maybe she's dating another jerk. She couldn't choose a nice boy if she tried. I don't know. I don't care.
Want to know what irritated me more than anything else? Dancing in the stands with you. Normally, you're the laughing fool of the hour, but today you couldn't even move yourself to try any more than slight, meaningless movements. All we do is air hump!
Away from highschool, with my family at the dinner table I call you an idiot because your are an idiot. I call you an idiot but only out of good will. You're my idiot, but you don't know it.
You need to find a girl who likes to talk like you talk, who never shuts up. I promise there is a girl out there who will laugh at all your sarcasm and fake disgust at your perverted jokes. It is not Ashlyn. To deflate that self esteem you always have going I'll tell you again that it is not me. Go find a girl that isn't a cradle robber like your last girlfriend. Find a decent girl. They're out there if you look hard enough. Stop thinking about Ashlyn the airhead and be my first chair again. Be an idiot because right now I'm mad at you for ruining your whole evening and thus ruining my whole evening over a girl, a girl who doesn't know you "love" her.
I'm the second chair, the silent girl to your left who always takes you too seriously but is slowly learning to act the same way around you as she does her family, and I noticed today. I didn't know when to cheer for our team because you didn't cheer. Yeah, maybe I am a little like a younger sibling, watching your every move but that is what you're there for. I won't apologize for watching you. I won't apologize for thinking you're stupid for letting this get to you so deeply. I won't even apologize for noticing that you have the longest eyelashes I have ever seen and smiling at it. Girls kill for long eyelashes.
Loosen up before Monday's practice. Forget about Ashlyn over the weekend, and I'll keep my silence. You won't know I worried about you. That's the way I want it. Worriers Anonymous.
Be my first chair who plays loud to play loud, who laughs for others to laugh, who screams "Fail!" at every little mistake, real or not. Be my first chair. Be the heart of the band.
