The elementary school doesn't require their kids to play an instrument until they're in fifth grade. Even then, it's only touching the surface. For a lot of students it's fleeting, as they can decide not to pick it up after they leave for middle school. Craig Tucker sits next to Clyde Donovan, eyes focused on his cellphone. It's a stuffy little room that you can find by the gym. Craig discovered that in the confines of the space the heat is turned up high. It's sticky hot and Craig's hair is glued to his sweaty forehead. His shoulder brushes against Clyde's every once and awhile and it's uncomfortable. They sit in silence, never the talkative bunch. Even so, everyone else chatters on, voices melting together.
"Quiet, quiet please. We'll have plenty of time to make noise, students."
The chatter dies down and the teacher, Mrs. Gleason, turns her back to the rowdy crowd. She writes on the board.
Welcome to Orchestra
You have a choice between chorus, band and orchestra. At first Craig was leaning more towards chorus, but he knows everyone goes for it. It appears to be an easy out for a lot of his classmates. You didn't have to rent or buy an instrument, or learn the fingering and placements or notes. However, orchestra sounded safe and boring, a path less taken. Band might have been interesting. However, Craig remembers the rumble of a the drum, the screech of the wind instruments and the marching. So he decides against it.
Mrs. Gleason clears her throat. She asks someone to take a piece of paper and pass it down. She then closes the distance between herself and the podium placed in front of the class. She opens her mouth to speak.
"Welcome to Orchestra," she starts. She takes her index finger and pushes her glasses closer to her face. Her red, fiery curls bounce as she talks and makes motions with her hands. She's very expressive with them, and the bangles she has on clank and jingle against each other.
"Today is simple. It's Monday and your first day of class. I'd really like you all to decide on what you'd like to play. You have a week to do research about what you are interested in. Touch the instruments in the room, look up recordings, ask questions." She points to the instruments the school actually supplies. It's lacking, you have to rent or buy your own, but the school does have a few on hand.
When she's done explaining meet up times and the winter concert she smiles at everyone.
Mrs. Gleason steps off her podium and let's her students to their own devices. Craig looks down at the piece of paper that was passed around. The types of instruments available are listed on the sheet. The surface of Craig's thumb brushes over the introduction.
"I think I'm going to do the viola." Clyde says. Craig lets out a scoff. Dark brown eyes look at the paper before putting it down. Shoes push against the surface of the ground. Craig leaves Clyde in his seat. He closes the distance between himself and the poster of string instruments.
Some of them look really delicate. Like the harp, images of pure white and clouds play in Craig's mind. Somehow Craig doesn't think it will be used in the schools orchestra.
The viola and violin catch Craig's eye. Simply because of Clyde's own interest in it. However, his attention wavers when dark browns land on the cello.
Craig's finger tips meet the surface of the poster. He remembers the instrument in between his mothers legs. Laura's fingers pressed down on the strings, eyes focused on the notes in front of her as they move. With her other hand she holds a bow. It moves so freely in her grasp, gliding across the strings and producing noise. It's graceful, passionate. These wouldn't be the words that Craig would use to describe the memory. He's just not that intricate with articulating what he thinks. But he feels this in that moment.
Laura stopped playing the cello when Craig's biological father left. It leaves sick emotions inside of him. He can't comprehend why.
But he knows what he wants to play now.
He takes his seat back with Clyde. Clyde talks about the football game coming up on the TV. He's animated, nasal and excited. Craig feels internally unwell. His palms are sweaty and he grips onto the paper Mrs. Gleason passed out. He has to place it down and take off his hat, hair damp with sweat. He ignores Clyde and thinks of late nights when he'd listen to his mothers song.
He remembers how those late nights spent listening to the music his mom would produce turned into curses and swears. Craig remembers laying on his bed, gaze at the ceiling. He's unable to sleep. He hears ugly things, he hears things being broken, he hears it all. When his dad finally leaves his moms face is black and blue. Craig is bruising on his cheek from where his father hit him for being 'disobedient.' His mother cries into Craig's hair as they watch Craig's father tear down the art hung on the walls, throwing their pottery into the wall, snapping Laura's bow. They're both quiet though. Craig feels little bubbles of bad feelings bursting inside of him. The door shuts, and it's calm.
The cello, the piano, the collection of music notes. Gone. The art work hanging up on the wall is torn down and shred to pieces. Everything is gone.
The sound of music is smothered and leaves an eerie quiet.
Craig misses the music.
Ruby and Craig were never close. She's 5 while Craig is 11. Laura was quick to remarry. She's different around Thomas. Quiet, reserved. There is still a fierce amount of passion and love for every thing and one in her life. She has a lot of love in her heart. Even towards the people who wronged her. They made her stronger, taught her, made her grow. When Jose, Craig's father left the picture it's a sleepy, quiet home. Laura slept too much, hid out in her room. The light bulbs went out, it was dark. Eventually her best friend since she was a kid stepped in and put the pieces back together. Thomas always loved Laura. Since they were kids, forever. But she always seemed to find love elsewhere. He steps into Laura's life and family and is by her side as she recovers. There is only so much he can do, but Thomas tries to fix everything with wet tape.
Ruby comes into the picture and her wails are unpleasant. She looks nothing like Craig. She's pale and red. Orange hair sticking up all over the place. Craig wants to hate her and does sometimes. She's a beginning and Craig is a reminder.
So they seldom talk or play, keeping a distance.
Dinner is finished and set out, they eat a few hours after Craig gets home. The family sit around the table, plain and boring. The only sound is the clinking of silverware, metal scraping against glass.
"We started fifth grade music class" Craig announces. Thomas looks up at him briefly, eyes darting to Laura. She finishes chewing the piece of meat in her mouth and swallows in before speaking.
"That's nice." she says, simple. Laura places down the fork she was holding and reaches for the glass of iced tea. Craig continues on.
"I decided I want to play the cello."
Thomas looks straight at Craig and then back to Laura. Laura's eyes are on him, studying him. Craig stares back, raising his middle finger up at her. She returns the gesture and she lets out a soft sigh. The air is a bit tense and it's uncomfortable.
'We'll rent you a cello next weekend. This class is only for a year?" a wave of relief crashes down on Craig and he nods.
"Yes."
"OK." the silence that falls is thick and awkward.
Craig goes back to school the next day. He sits in his fifth grade class and tries to pay attention to Mr. Garrison, who followed them to the next grade. Craig is kind of spacing out.
He's seated next to Jimmy and Tweek, both who were good friends, kind of. Jimmy is always around. They hang out with a few other boys in their class. A rumor started last year that Tweek and Craig were boyfriends. They both had denied it at first. And then tried to pose a fake breakup. It ended sour, and they 'got back together' until the summer fell. They broke it off, but they became good friends.
Eventually the lunch bell rings and the usual group sits at the same table. Craig doesn't like Cartman's gang all too much, but he tolerates them in school.
"Ah man I can't believe we have chorus! This is going to suck." Stan says. He makes a face at the lunch in front of him and pushes it away. Craig keeps his gaze down on his cellphone. He's always on the damn thing. He's usually next to Kenny Mccormick at lunch who he swears reads whatever he has pulled up. Craig doesn't ever want to admit he reads Red Racer fanfiction. Thankfully, if Kenny knows he doesn't say anything.
"I take orchestra. I like it. Mrs Gleason is super hot." Clyde speaks up. Craig picks at his food. Not vocalizing anything.
"I saw her! She's pretty hot for a day walker. Wish I had her as my teacher, damn." Cartman says, crude. Kyle lets out a scoff next to him and Cartman throws him a nasty look.
"Don't laugh at me you dirty jew." he says. Craig stands to throw his garbage away. He decides to leave the cafeteria after that, walking to the schools library.
Eventually Orchestra comes rolling around and Mrs Gleason sits at her desk. She has thick reading glasses that magnify her eyes. Clyde chatters on about something that Craig really doesn't care for, thoughts somewhere else. Craig eyeballs his teacher every once and awhile, and eventually he stands and goes over to her desk.
He shoves his sweaty hands in his pockets and opens his mouth before closing it. He opens up again.
"I decided on my instrument." Craig announces. Mrs. Gleason looks at him from over her glasses before pulling them off. She folds them up and put it in her breast pocket.
"Good! What would that be, Mr. Tucker?" She's so inviting and friendly and it makes Craig feel more at ease. He wonders how she memorized his name so quickly.
"The cello."
There is a pause and Mrs. Gleason looks at him curiously. Craig feels uncomfortable by it and gingerly kicks the ground. She eventually shakes her head and a smile returns on her face.
"I guess Laura's talents passed on to you. I'm looking forward to our lessons. We already have two other cellist, Lola Parker and Bradley Biggle. You guys will be taking private group lessons with me every Tuesday. When it's close to the concert you'll practice with the rest of your peers. You'll have to practice at home too. Do you have your own instrument?" she questions.
"No. We're renting a cello." she nods her head and rolls backwards in her chair. There is some rustling of papers as she looks in one of the draws on her desk. Eventually she makes an 'ah ha!' noise and she places a packet of sheet note in front of Craig. Craig picks it up, looking down at the first thing on the page.
It's named 'Traffic Jam'. From the looks of it Mrs Gleason already highlighted the parts the cellist will play. He knows nothing about the notes and symbols. It makes him a bit nervous. And as if she read Craig's emotions the teacher opens her mouth.
"We'll go over notes and everything in class." he looks back at her and then back at the papers.
"Thank you." he says as he goes to take his seat next to Clyde again.
They pick up the cello for him the next monday, while he's at school. Craig lets his backpack fall to the ground as he enters his house, kicking off his shoes. He goes to his room and there it is, in it's bag. He gingerly unzips the instrument and exposes it. His fingers brush over the surface of the scroll, he plucks one of the strings.
His first lesson is tomorrow. He doesn't know how to play the instrument in the slightest, but he's excited to learn.
Craig goes to sleep late into the night, thoughts jumping around in his mind. When he wakes he puts his arms through the straps of his cello bag. Thomas holds his backpack for him and walks him into the school. They drop off the cello to the music room and Craig takes his bag with school work in it.
He goes to class and the day continues on. By the time his lessons comes up he's late to class. Cartman and his gang were trying to get people involved in their shenanigans again and caused a crowd in the hallway. Craig has to push his way past people to get to his destination. When he arrives Mrs. Gleason has written notes on the board. He takes a seat in the front, where the other three Cello players sit. She told them that the cellist were broken up into two classes.
Craig rubs the little block of rosin across his bow, like he read online. He tries to position his cello the way he used to see his mom do it.
Mrs. Gleason turns back around to face her musicians and she starts talking. She explains where the notes are on the cello and goes over fingering. Craig doesn't really get it and it's a bit discouraging. He listens, though.
The lessons continue on like that. Mrs. Gleason telling them the secrets and intricacies of the cello. They pluck at the strings and gently run the bow across them to hear what sound they produce. Craig tries his hardest to keep up, but he doesn't practice at home.
The quiet is so, so uneasy. Craig feels uncomfortable breaking it. He'll sit on his bed and eye ball the instrument.
"You need to practice more, Craig." Mrs Gleason says to him in class. Lola lets out a scoff at that. She thought she was so good, and she often got praise for doing so well.
It continues on like that, Craig's music lacking, slow paced, trying too hard.
"Eventually it'll come naturally." Mrs. Gleason says. It's the beginning of November and the winter contest is dangerously close. And she announces it.
"Craig, please stay behind to talk to me." and he does. When the last person is out the door Craig remains where he is seated. It's so hot in this room, he always looks to gross afterwards.
Mrs. Gleason takes a seat next to Craig. She holds a Styrofoam cup in her hands, bringing it up to her lips to take a sip.
"Why aren't you practicing? You're good, Craig. But you have to practice." she looks at him and his eyes are downcast at his lap. He feels guilty and wishes he could explain, but Craig doesn't know what he is even thinking. Why it's so hard to break the silence of the house.
"Playing an instrument is like having one, true, great love." Craig looks up at her, big brown eyes focused on her countenance.
"They start off foreign to you, and your first conversations are going to be awkward and strained. But then there is a connection, and you're laughing and talking and producing noise from them. Sometimes you won't see eye to eye, sometimes you'll make mistakes. But you keep trying, work it out. You'll speak freely with them anywhere. And you're not going to care who sees or hears, because you love them. That is the love of your life."
Craig looks down at the bow in his hands.
He leaves the room feeling light and easy. When he gets home it is silent. Thomas is sleeping on the recliner, Ruby is in her room, and Laura is cooking dinner.
Craig does the daring and takes his notes out, setting up his stand. And places his fingers where they are supposed to meet up. He knows the notes, but he always puts so much pressure on himself and messes up.
But he takes a deep breath, and tries to just feel the music.
He does this everyday after school for about three hours. He misses Red Racer, he ignores invitations from Clyde, Token, Jimmy, Tweek and Token to hang out. Mrs. Gleason sees the difference and places him in second chair next to Lola. Craig feels a bit bitter and being in that placement, but he accepts it. Keeps trying and trying.
Eventually the night of the concert rolls around and Craig peaks his head out to look at the crowd. He sees his mother and father with Ruby in the front row. He feels pleased knowing they are there.
He is clad in a white dress shirt with black slacks. Looking rather fresh. He goes back to his seat and Lola sits next to him in a white dress. She looks Craig up and down, and Craig is expecting something rude. However, Lola sticks her hand out to him.
"You're an excellent rival. My dad is taking me to Friendlies afterwards. Would you like to come?" she has such a princess voice and Craig almost says no in a dry tone. But instead takes her hand and shakes it, complying.
"Sure."
The band has already went and the Chorus sung the introduction. It's their time, the lights brighten and the music begins. The audience is quiet and instantly become sucked in. At their cue they glide their bows across the string. They're on their second song, Craig's eyes downcast and consumed in music when the sprinkler system goes off. The sound of the schools fire alarm rings throughout the entire building and everyone rushes the get out.
Dark browns look up to the crowd and sees that his family has already left. He feels a horrible, horrible sinking feeling. Like he can melt into the ground.
Craig tries to shove his sheet notes in his pockets, trying to keep them dry. But they become damp and the ink bleeds, ruining it.
He can hear Stan and Kyle voice. He can hear the spiel of 'I learned something today' he hears it all coming. He also hears his heart pounding in his ears. He feels the mushy papers in his hands, he feels his face heat up in frustration.
When he gets home he slams his door shut behind him. He dries off his instrument as best as he can. And he plays.
He plays and plays until his fingers are sore. He plays until the his parents knock on his door, begging him to stop. He plays and plays all night.
He falls asleep sometime early in the morning. When he wakes up, he feels physically drained. He stares out the window, at he blues, oranges and purples making the sky.
At breakfast he tells his family he wants to continue playing the cello.
And he does.