A/N: Many thanks to my cousin Angel for the Beta!

Summary: "It was bad enough that she didn't know many other kids her age- being home schooled and all- but that her mother thought she needed music to round out her life was the icing on the cake. Or, as the band geeks say, the music in the measure. God, she hated band geek jokes."
Time Period: Ashley in junior high or high school.
Excuse: I revisited the Improbable Scenes challenges in a fit of nostalgia, and this came out of nowhere. 'Tis AU because Ashley didn't go to public school for band. I would hope. For her sake. It is a truly scary place.
Disclaimer: In my world, I would be the tech expert assistant. Since Henry works alone, this must not be mine. Darn.
Rating: Unless you know the joke the trumpets are saying, then it's G. If you do know the joke, then it's probably NC-17. At least. As stated: Band is a truly scary place.
Enjoy! Please review! Or lurk. Lurking's cool.

----Six thirty----
Ashley waved to her mother and set off for the band room. It was bad enough that she didn't know many other kids her age- being home schooled and all- but that her mother thought she needed music to round out her life was the icing on the cake. Or, as the band geeks say, the music in the measure.

God, she hated band geek jokes.

Shaking the light dusting of snow off of her coat, she swirled the combination on her band locker and pulled out her instrument. Dumping her coat into the now empty space, she knelt down and opened the case. Just as she was fitting the long joint into the boot, a hand smacked the back of her head. She smiled and said, "Hey, Erin!"

So there were a few cool people in band. Very few.

Across the room, she heard the trumpets come in. "-suck it up with a straw!" The group laughed. Ashley blanched: She had heard that particular joke once, and it was one time too many.

"What's up Ashley?" Erin was shoving the bell onto the rest of her already assembled clarinet. Shaking her head and focusing on attaching the wing to the boot, Ashley sighed.

"Absolutely nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"No! Not even a text! I don't think he's into me anymore." Now the bocal into the wing joint.

"Aw, man! That sucks, Ash!" Erin placed her reed into her mouth and wrinkled her nose. "New reed," she explained.

Ashley winced in empathy. Those tasted terrible. "Yeah, I guess it was too good to last. How's things with you and this week's flavor?"

"Oh, Patwick? He'sh great, I shink I reawy wike 'im." Somehow in the last two years Ashley has managed to understand Reed-Speak. Speaking of, she tossed her double-reed into her mouth and sloshed it around.

"When did he shtart? I tink I was tinking of. . . uh, Michaw?" Ashley stood up and put her case in with her coat.

"Ohh, Mawio! Eww, no, he wash too into Britney. I din't tink he even reawy has a car." They walked over to the cubbies and retrieved their music folders. "Patwick ashked me out lasht Shaturday."

Switching topics as only a teenager can truly do, Ashley pulled her reed out of her mouth. "Ugh, I so don't wanna play Heartbeat Five."

Erin nodded. "I know! It's a sherioush pain in th-"

"Alright, everybody, to your seats! We've got music to rehearse!" The band director, Mr Johnson, waved his baton around, toupee flapping, looking like the Mad Hatter Erin insisted he secretly was.

Ashley groaned. "Aw, man!" She stuck her reed on the end of the bocal and trudged to her seat. As she set her music up on the stand in front of her, Mr Johnson signaled for the first song on the schedule.

----Seven Thirty----
Ashley was getting irritated at the seat strap: it just was not cooperating. She couldn't find the appropriate height for her instrument and the reed kept poking her in the nose. She shifted it one last time and settled for an occasional jab in her chin, just as Mr Johnson tapped his baton on the stand. The group had just been 'formally' introduced and were about to begin playing for the audience. She caught her mother's eye in the third row and smiled. The Beatles had been a pretty cool group, but she figured her mom would find this medley of particular interest due to. . . personal reasons.

As they started in on 'Blackbird,' the first of five Beatles' songs spliced together, Ashley grinned at the smile she saw out of the corner of her eye.

----Nine----
Waving a last good-bye to Erin and some of her other band friends, Ashley leaped into her mother's waiting arms.

"How'd you like it?" She asked.

"I loved it, dear. I particularly enjoyed your first song, it was quite. . . reminiscent." The corner of the senior Magnus' mouth slipped upwards and Ashley had to laugh as they walked towards their car.

"Who knows, next year, we might do Gershwin!"

Her mother smiled. "Now that would be a treat."

----Nine Thirty----
Ashley lifted her instrument out of the backseat of their car. On the way home from her concert, the Magnus' had stopped for some ice cream. Yum.

By the time she had lugged the thing into her room, her arm was killing her. Even with all the training she engaged in, the doggone handle on the case was just a pain in the neck.

Once she was finished with her nightly ablutions, Helen appeared at her door.

"Hey mom!" They hugged and sat on Ashley's bed, talking about Erin's new boyfriend, Chris's squeaking reed, Mr Johnson's toupee falling off, and the general munitiae of their day.

Before she shut the door on her way out, Helen paused and said, "Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you playing an instrument?"

"Yeah, I think so." Ashley replied, a little confused. Her mother had mentioned this many times, actually. And she knew for a fact that her mother had a brilliant memory. What gives? she thought.

"Well, I should like to say that I am glad you chose wisely. Good night, Ashley."

Ashley smiled and lightly tapped the instrument case sitting on the floor next to her. "It was all the black leather. Just can't resist. 'Night!" And with that, Helen was gone and Ashley was alone with her bassoon. "G'night, MacGyver."

A/N: Yes, I do actually play the bassoon; mine is named Shozzbot. His case has a black leather case for. . . reasons of national security. . . Actually, I don't know. But it's coolbeans. :D
The boot, long joint, wing joint, bell, and bocal are the five parts to a bassoon, and the double is the coolest thing ever created.