plot twist: I actually update relatively recently and the story is actually continuing.
disclaimer: language
I played clarinet and was the leader of three second-chair players. That's probably because playing the clarinet was one of the only things I was okay at doing, and it was also really easy to be a leader. All you had to do was keep quiet, play well, and show the others how to play the goddamn piece when it was obvious that they didn't know how to. It was more of a title than an actual position of authority which I didn't mind, because God knows I had absolutely no qualifications to be any sort of actual "leader".
But it was one day in band class that changed everything.
The band director, Mr. Ludenberg, was notorious for switching things up. He liked to play little games with us that kept us on our toes and left us dancing on them as we tried not to embarrass ourselves by playing a wrong note or rhythm in front of the entire band. It was nerve racking whenever he did it, because you never knew who the victim was going to be that day.
"Kirkland, come up here."
Of course it would be me. The one time someone noticed me it would entitle going before the eighty person band, and it was never good when that happened. When you were told to go to the front of the band there was usually total embarrassment that you couldn't even begin to hide by the time you walked away.
Although I was hesitant, I got up. I placed my worn clarinet on the plastic chair, and made my way through the sea that was the band. Just getting up there began the unsettled feeling of impending embarrassment. You could never get to the front inconspicuously, and it was always awkward. Everyone had to move their stands and chairs out of the way so the person going up could have a path, and while you made your way up they stared at you like some rarity.
Once I got up there I immediately cursed my English skin. It was clear as day that my cheeks were beat red because I knew I was going to be wholly embarrassed. While I knew I should have acknowledged Mr. Ludenberg when I got up there, I just couldn't look him in the eye.
"I want you to warm up the band. Concert B flat scale, up and down in whole notes to start."
Then he walked away.
It was just me by myself in front of the rest of the entire band. I was hoping that he'd stand in the back of the room and watch me but he left the fucking room. I was on my own and I was so sure that I was about to burst out into tears. I don't even think the old hag had the heart to see me make a fool of myself.
So I waited at the front (I was hoping he'd come back) while I saw the true chaos that was the band. There were trumpets playing the highest and loudest notes they possibly could, flutes giggling and squealing as they conversed with one another, and the trombones were on their phones as if they weren't even in class. But the worst was the percussion section. They would just bang and crash and smash anything and everything in sight. The worst was a kid named Alfred though, he just didn't know when to quit. The whole section would have to poke and prod at him to get him to stop playing and to pay attention to what was going on.
I raised my arm weakly to get everyone to notice me.
"Is everyone ready?"
I could have sworn in that moment that those words were a twisted magic spell. Everyone stopped what they were doing and got ready. Someone was actually listening to me, eighty someone's were listening.
I let my arm drop and began a steady and basic 4/4 conducting pattern.
"One, two, one, two, ready, and!"
And everyone played the scale. They played it in whole notes, quarter notes, eighth notes… all of the regular warm up scales! To top it off, I didn't even screw up once. I silently congratulated myself for foiling Mr. Lundenberg's attempt to embarrass me. I also managed to one-up him when I conducted a piece since he took longer than expected to return.
The song was almost the best we had ever played it… with the exception of Alfred. He played over every measure I would stop at. He hit the snare drum at the wrong times and was far off from the timing I gave. I was becoming increasingly pissed off at him with every error. I didn't think that he realized how vital a drummer is to the beat of the band, and he was throwing everything off just to seemingly disrespect me.
But before I could say anything to him, Mr. Ludenberg returned to the room. He gave me a nod as if to say, "step down", allowing me to return to my seat. As I did, I smiled for the first time in awhile. I was noticed and hadn't screwed up in front of a massive group of people, so a smile somehow managed to creep its way on to my face.
The rest of band rehearsal went on as normal. I played my part, got ignored in my section, and stayed quiet when Mr. Ludenberg worked on different sections. Soon enough, the class came to an end and everyone was packing up to leave.
But I couldn't go to my next class without giving Alfred a piece of my mind. I shouldn't have let it bother me as much as it did, but it felt he was so rude to me while I was conducting.
I marched right up to him like the little marching band nerd I was, scowl and everything on my face. I wanted to get my point across from jump street how I was not having his shit, but it failed when he had his back to me, trying to put his snare sticks away. So I opted to tap his shoulder, to which he immediately whipped around.
His bright blue eyes widened so much that his silver framed glasses looked small. I guess though that when you have a short, pissy English kid in your face it's kind of hard to not be startled.
"Are you inconsiderate, or just dumb?"
The words just escaped, and I really regretted it. I was a person whose temper was as short and was as explosive as a fuse, but with guilt that could stick with me for years.
But much to my surprise all he did was stare at me with a blank look on his face; almost as if he didn't know what I was saying.
"Do you realize how monstrously rude it was of you to keep messing up while I was conducting. Do you disrespect your other peers like this? I know for a fact if Mr. Ludenberg had been the one conducting you wouldn't have even had the nerve to do such a thing. "
But he just stood there, staring at me. He wasn't paying attention to a single word I said and was playing statue. That was my fault though, he clearly didn't know how to respond to any of my yelling.
It was then that his friend, (and the tuba player of the band) Gilbert, walked over. He saw me yelling at Alfred and of course being friends, it set him off.
"Dude, what the fuck is your problem?"
He looked like he was going to punch me in the face. He had his fist curled into a ball so tight that if it weren't for the fact he was albino, you would have seen his fist go white. He was a little under six feet and was a little more on the lanky side, but still a force to be reckoned with.
I got nervous because Gilbert was generally known as one of those people you didn't want to run into in an alleyway. But I was going to stand my ground, so I continued to stand there as he made his way towards me.
"He was being disrespectful to me earlier. He kept playing over everything and –"
I didn't get to finish my explanation. He had no patience for my explanation as he got right up so close to my face that I could feel his gross warm breath hit my face.
"He's deaf, you asshole. He's not going to hear any shit you say, and he has a hard time with getting a feel for the tempo. "
Oh.
Oh God. I was the biggest arsehole in the whole entire universe. If I thought I felt guilty before, that was nothing. I was praying that some God or fateful being would strike me now and kill me because I had humiliated myself to the point where I didn't feel I had the right to exist because I was just so awful of a person.
Gilbert signed a message to Alfred, and made him laugh a little. He signed something back, which must have been something to save my arse because Gilbert sent me a glare that could kill as he walked away.
Aiden got out a piece of paper and began to write on it.
Sorry for earlier, dude! I didn't mean to give you an issue. I'm set on such an auto-pilot that I didn't notice you took a different tempo.
I gestured to the pencil, hoping he'd give it to me so I could respond. He passed the pencil, smile and all, and it made me feel worse. The room seemed like it was getting hotter and hotter now with every single thing Alfred did.
My sincerest apologizes, I wasn't aware of the situation.
He smiled at me and waved his hand like he was saying, "it was no big deal," but that couldn't be further from the truth.
All I could think was how horrible of a person I was. I yelled at this kid for something so small and acted like a complete wanker about it, and then he just brushes it off and acted like it was okay!
No wonder why I didn't have friends and was left alone. No one wanted to talk to me because all I did was berate and insult people, just like how I did to Alfred!
I couldn't even look him in the eye. I let my head hang low and shuffled away as I tried to hide from what I had just done. It was a wasted effort though, because I didn't realize how ferociously loud I was when I yelled at Alfred.
Nobody in the band wanted anything to do with me after I yelled at Alfred. There was an overwhelming aura of hate that felt like it was going to drown and kill me. Everyone loved Alfred, and to see me blow my top off at him made me public enemy number one. I had to get out, fast. I got looks of death as I left the room, but the majority of people turned their noses at me.
I had always wanted to be noticed, but this isn't what I had in mind.
I wanted this to be a little longer, but oh well.
Arthur thought he was going to get away without being embarrassed but we can't have that, now can we?
Feed back on this would be great if y'all could help out c:
