Chapter 2 -Part One
My heart had the most annoying habit of beating really hard when I was nervous. Sometimes, times like these, it was hard to breathe. Band was sixth period, the last class of the day. Then I would have to tell everybody that I wouldn’t be coming back. Not for fall season, not for winter drumline. Not forever.
Melodramatic thinking, I know. But loosing a band is like
loosing a huge family. You sweat, you bleed, you work with these people.
You compete, you loose, you win, you even cry with these people. Joining
band is more than just making heart-moving music with a hundred or so
people, it’s getting a family.
Band geek is the most common lie you can hear. Sure, we may
live for band, and it may seem like the gayest thing to people on the
outside, but to those involved band is life.
So, it should be easy to see why losing something like that
would suck. Some of these people I’ve been with from the start. How can I
be expected to give up my life for my fathers mistake? That day, I hated
him.
The bell rang, tolling the end of fifth period. I shoved things
mindlessly into my bag and hurried out the door. Student traffic stopped
me dead in my tracks. It was like the world was just slowing down,
prolonging the event. I took a deep breath and went with it, after all, soon
I would leave these halls forever. And I wasn’t even a senior. Leaving
wouldn’t be my reward, it would be my punishment.
I finally got to the band room. Already students were clustering
together, sitting on the floor in circles hanging out, or watching Jerry
Springer. The end of the year was always just a bunch of mindless free
time. No competitions, no performances. No music.
Most of the drumline was sitting near the back of the room, old
habits die hard. There was a saxophone player, and a trumpeter among
the ranks. They were sitting in a circle, dealing out a game of Uno.
“Deal you in, Cose?” James asked. He was next year’s center
snare player and one of nicest guys I would ever meet. He was the only guy
I knew who would take the time to ask if you were okay, and actually care
that is.
“Next game maybe,” I said.
“Yeah, sure.” He scooped up an extra pile that had probably
already been for me. I smiled at the gesture.
Derik, the band director opened the door to his office, cue that
it was okay to go in. I took a much needed deep breath and went to talk to
him.
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