Chapter 2 - Home Emergency

Here goes nothing, I thought as I swung the door open.

Immediately a wave of light pierced my eyes. What is it with city people and strong light bulbs? Back at La Push we had soft bulbs that made you feel like you were still in the forest, not in a laboratory.

My eyes eventually adjusted and I looked around. Class hadn't started yet, so people were milling aimlessly around the room. There were a few people that I vaguely recognized from my few trips down here when I was younger, but I couldn't match a name to anyone's face.

The teacher wasn't in the classroom yet, so I awkwardly sat down in a desk that seemed to be empty.

Everyone was staring at me! Not outright stares, but those sideways ones people give you when they think you aren't looking. I hated being the center of attention, so I quietly pulled out my book. Watership Down. I loved that book. It took me a while to get into it the first time, but I have been hooked ever since.

I was so engrossed in my reading that I didn't even notice when the teacher walked in and started class. A soft hand tapped me on the shoulder. "Sorry, but I think you're in my spot" the quiet girl said. She was a little taller than me with shoulder length hair. She seemed nice, but I was too embarrassed to say anything.

I jumped up from my seat and stumbled to the front of the room. I almost made it there unscathed, but that pesky computer cord was my downfall. I went down, and the whole class erupted in laughter.

"Shhh, quiet por favor" the teacher asked, "You must be Bella. What a pleasure to have you here. We don't see much of people from the reservation, maybe you could share a little but about your life once you get acquainted with our school more."

Great. Another public speaking opportunity, just what I love. At least she understood that I wouldn't want to tell about myself on the first day of school. I was directed to the only open spot in the classroom—front and center. Oh well. At least I would be able to concentrate.

I got through Spanish just fine, it was a fairly basic class. I knew a little bit of French from the Quileute that I spoke, but not a ton. As I walked out of the classroom on my way to history the girl whose spot I took introduced herself.

"Hi, I'm Angela," she said, "I moved here from Portland a few months ago, so I know how you must be feeling. If you have any questions feel free to ask me!"

Well, at least someone liked me. I got through history just fine. A mousy boy who introduced himself as Mike offered to walk me to band. I agreed out of politeness.

I didn't need any friends here. I was going to Forks for music, and music only. I had a few friends back in La Push, and that is all I needed.

Mike chattered away, telling me his life history, favorite foods, and a ton of other information that I really didn't care about.

The only interesting tidbit of information that I learned was that he played trombone, the band director was the coolest person ever, and that they desperately needed an oboe player.

Well that would work out nicely, I thought. Oboe was my principal instrument. To most people it just sounded like a dying duck, but to me it was much, much more.

Oboe was my life. I wanted nothing more in my life than to be accepted at Julliard and play for the London Symphony Orchestra.

I walked into the band room and couldn't help but smile. The mixed smells of cork grease, valve oil and new reeds were one that couldn't be replicated. I know, I tried to make a room freshener out of those before—not a good idea.

I found the band teacher sorting music in his office. He introduced himself as Mr. Bergstrom and welcomed me to his band. He loved the fact that I played oboe, and quickly got the music.

I heard a crash in the hallway followed by an angry "my French horn!" Mr. B excused himself and went to sort it out.

While I waited for him to return I looked through the music. I have never played in a band before, only solo pieces. The music looked very easy. Some of the pieces I recognized, some I didn't.

Fantasia on the Dargason was simple, but a piece called "Africa" caught my eye. It was a bit more difficult but the thing that caught my eye was the beautiful English horn solo that was written in. I was very excited to play that!

Mr. Bergstrom returned rolling his eye mumbling something about "stupid baritone players".

He told me about the schedule which was on a five day rotation. It went like this.

Monday—Select woodwind lessons

Tuesday—Select brass lessons

Wednesday—Brass/woodwind separate rehearsals

Thursday—Full band rehearsal

Friday—Solo practice

Mr. B went on to explain that his philosophy was a lot of individual and small group time would pay off in large group rehearsal, so only one full group rehearsal is needed a week. On the woodwind and brass lesson days the brass and woodwind leaders had individual lessons that went on a rotation.

Since today was Monday, I figured that some people would be missing. I sat down in the oboe spot and began to quietly warm up. Some people still stared at me, but the band seemed much more accepting of me.

Most bandies were probably just grateful that the new girl wasn't in their section, so wasn't a threat. Mr. B walked in a quieted everyone down. He introduced me simply.

"We have a new student today. She transferred from the school in La Push in order to be in band. Her name is Bella and she is going to play oboe for us. If you have time after class make sure to say hello."

With that out of the way we began to warm up. The band was good for a high school, but nothing brilliant. The lead saxophone wasn't here, so I assumed that whoever played it must be the WL (Woodwind leader). The fourth clarinet was also absent, probably at lessons.

We started to play our songs, and I did pretty well. It was a challenge for me to blend in with everyone since I had never had to do it before, but the music itself was very easy.

About halfway through rehearsal the clarinetist came back and whispered something to Mr. B about the WL organizing music. I didn't catch their name, but figured that I would meet them soon enough.

There was only a few minutes left of class when a crackly intercom flipped on, "Would a Bella Black please come to the office immediately," it said.

I blushed and ran to out of the classroom that was now erupting in "oohs" and "someone's in troubles". How immature. I quickly put my oboe away and ran for the door.

I bumped into someone, but didn't pay attention to who it was. I was too busy worrying about how I managed to get called down to the office after less than half of a day at school.

I walked into the office—and right into the principal.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, "Umm, I was just called down here."

"Yes, Oh I'm sorry Bella," the principal replied sympathetically, "We just received a call from someone up at the reservation. There seems to be some sort of home emergency with your dad…relative…guardian…"

She seemed to be fishing for the right word so I helped her out "Brother?" I quietly suggested.

"Yes, that's it! Mmm, well they didn't' elaborate, but just said to have you get up there as soon as possible." You can just leave now; we already took care of signing you out."

I was too worried to even say thanks. I stumbled outside in a daze. What could have happened? Did he get hit by a car? Eaten by a bear? I wasn't sure, and was too worried to come up with any rational explanations.

I jumped in my car and pulled out quickly, skidding on the street as I sped home.

I was much too worried about my brother to notice the silver car closely following me home.