Movement VI: Solitudine
Virgil's young life had not been very consistent. There was life before his mother died, and then there were all of changes that happened after it. Their grandma came to live with them full time, their father changed jobs, John became more distant, Gordon started swimming, Scott seemed to grow up all at once with his homework and sports, and Alan was no longer a baby.
Only two things had remained consistent for Virgil through the years; his love of music, and his friends.
Music was what had connected him to his mother—what still connected him to his mother. Music was what made those around him happy—he could even get a smile out of John occasionally, and he loved to watch Gordon and Alan dance when he played.
So that next summer when his father surprised him with a two week music camp in Wichita Virgil couldn't quite believe it. He was so shocked he didn't know whether to hug his father, run and tell Scott, or just jump up and down in pure joy. In the end it was a combination of all three. He jumped, hugged his dad, while still jumping, and started to go off to tell Scott only to turn around and hug his father some more.
Music camp had been an amazing experience for Virgil. He had always played music alone. He didn't have any idea what it was like to play music with others. He had listened to music on the radio of course, had his favorite artists and bands, songs he would hum or sing for his brothers on demand. But to play with a group, to be only a small part of the music and not the whole of it was something he had never experienced before going to camp.
But once he had experience it, he wasn't about to forget about it.
Friends were something else Virgil seemed to be a natural at. He had his core group of friends that he would play with, but anyone would agree that he was pretty much friends with everyone. There wasn't anyone in school that hated him.
Even at camp he made friends easily. When asked how he did it he just said he would talk to them, listen, and help if he could. That was all. It was all that was needed it seemed and he would hold onto those friends for a lifetime. But he eventually found that not everyone was open to his friendship and Virgil had to learn to deal with yet another change.
It was early spring and Virgil was sitting out on the steps of the front porch watching the road. He had a sketch pad on his lap, but very little had been drawn on it—every time he heard a car he would look up and watch it drive by.
Virgil usually tried his best not to bother Scott after school. He had so much homework to do—plus he insisted on always helping their grandma—that Virgil knew he needed all the time he could to get it done. However, it was Friday so he didn't feel as bad about wanting to talk to his eldest brother.
Scott was usually the first one he went to for advice. He was the wisest, probably because he was the oldest and always knew the answers to all of Virgil's questions. He hoped he would once again have the answers to what was worrying Virgil now.
They had just gotten their scheduling worksheets for the next year. It was nothing more than a list of classes and their descriptions along with the requirements for all the students in middle school. It was also the start of Virgil's true academic career and the classes they choose for seventh grade would effect what they took in high school and then what collages they could get into. John had gone off to their father's office as soon as they had gotten home. He of course knew what he wanted to do, and had gone on and on about his plan to attend MIT and that he needed to figure out just what he would take and when to ensure he had what was needed to get there.
Virgil was pretty sure he wasn't going to try to go to MIT, but didn't know where he wanted to go, or what he wanted to do. Music was still up there, but so was art. His father of course would prefer him to take something in the Math or Sciences, but unlike his brothers there wasn't one aspect of these subjects that he particularly wanted to study.
Virgil had sketched out a rough shape on the paper while he thought—something that looked like it was half turtle and half plane—but frowned at it and scribbled it out just as he heard a crunch as a car turned onto their gravel lane. He flipped his sketchbook closed and stood.
The car stopped near the porch, the rear door opened and Scott unfolded himself from inside. He was still talking to his friend as he pulled his backpack and then his duffle bag from inside. With a quick goodbye and a small wave to the driver Scott closed the door and turned to face the house.
"Hey, Virg!" Scott waved as he approached the steps. "What's up?"
"Could you help me with something?" Virgil was hugging his sketchbook to his chest and leaning on one of the pillars at the top of the small set of steps.
"Sure, can it wait until after dinner?" Scott took the three steps easily and ruffled Virgil's hair a bit as he passed.
"Yeah, Grandma's already in the kitchen."
"Any idea what she's trying to cook today?"
"I think she said meatloaf."
"Hm, I better hurry and make sure she doesn't forget the egg again." Scott paused in the entryway, torn on which way to go.
"I'll take your bags up to your room."
"Thanks, Virg." Scott smiled as he handed his bags over and took off for the kitchen.
Virgil made his way up to Scott's room and had dumped the bags onto his bed before he had even noticed that John was in the room. "You have your schedule figured out already?"
"Nah, Dad's gotta call and get some info before we can finalize it." John continued to work on his homework as he spoke, not looking up at Virgil. "Are you going to talk to him about yours?"
"No, Scott's gonna help me."
That made John look up at him. "Why don't you ask Dad? He'll know more about it than Scott."
Virgil just shrugged, "I'm gonna go down and help with dinner."
"You finish your homework already?"
"No, I'll work on it tomorrow."
"Well, if you need help I'm gonna stay up tonight and look at the stars, so I'll be up late tomorrow."
"Okay." Virgil nodded as he ducked out of the room.
He made his way down to the kitchen just in time to see the meatloaf go into the oven. Gordon and Alan were sitting at the table and greeted him with mouths full of cookies.
"Hey, Virg, you want to help me peel the potatoes?"
Virgil nodded and pulled up a stool next to Scott to help.
Dinner was over, John and their father were on clean up, and Scott finally had some time to sit down with Virgil.
"So, what do you need help with?"
"My schedule for next year." Virgil pulled out the worksheet and handed it over to Scott who was sitting at his desk while Virgil sat next to him on Scott's bed.
Scott took the sheet and glanced down at it. "Don't you want to do this with Dad? He'd know more than I do."
"I'd rather you help me." Virgil shrugged, but didn't look up at him.
"He said you could take music and art didn't he?"
"Yeah, but after Mom died he was hesitant to let me continue lessons." Virgil shrugged a little. "He eventually let me, but he almost didn't. And then when I wanted to be in the recital again, there were conditions. I had to do good in school to be able to do it. That remained true for every recital after."
"Okay." Scott seemed to take a moment to think as he leaned back in his chair. "As for that first recital, you about killed yourself."
"It wasn't that bad." Virgil looked away from Scott not really wanting to think about it too much.
"Virgil, you were so motivated you weren't thinking of your own health. You barely ate, barely did anything outside of your school work and practicing your music. I was scared, Virgil. I thought—"
"Can we please not talk about it. It was a misunderstanding. On my part. I just—"
Scott sighed and reached out, laying a hand on Virgil's head. "You don't have to tell me. It's in the past, just so long as you don't plan on repeating it any time soon."
Virgil smiled a little and glanced over at the worksheet that laid on Scott's desk. "This is more than just a recital once a year. I want to be in band and take art classes. I don't know if he's going to like that. He's going to want me to take the programming classes and take an extra math class like John."
"Virg, you are not John. Dad knows that."
"Yeah, but he still expects me to be an overachiever."
"He expects it because you are."
"I am because he expects it." Virgil returned the steady stare his older brother was giving him.
"Do you want to do badly?"
"No, I'm just afraid that I'll disappoint him." Virgil slumped a little. "Yet, at the same time I'm afraid that I'm gonna get forced into doing something I don't want to do, just to make Dad happy."
"What is it you want to do?"
"I don't now. That's the thing. I just don't know, but he's expecting us to know."
"That he is." Scott sighed a little and leaned onto his desk.
Virgil blinked and looked over at his brother, his mouth slowly going slack. "What? Not you? I mean, you've always known."
"That I wanted to fly and go into the Air Force, yes. Dad wants me to go to the Air Force Academy"
"What's that?"
"It's basically a university just for the Air Force."
"Then what's wrong?"
"It's very difficult to get into, and I don't even know what I want to study if I do get in."
"Study flying."
"Afraid that's not one of the options." Scott laughed a little.
"So, what are you going to do?"
"I've already started preparing for the application process. I've got to make sure I get all my classes in so I can graduate a year early and enter the academy when I'm seventeen. Hopefully by then I've figured something out."
"And if you haven't?"
"I don't know." Scott shrugged a little. "You've still go time to figure out what you want to do. Even if Dad is trying to force your hand, he knows that it can always be changed."
Virgil sighed and slipped a little more. He wasn't as optimistic about it as Scott seemed to be. "What if you're wrong?"
"I won't be."
"You're really sure about it aren't you?"
"I am." Scott nodded and turned to his desk to lean over the paper. "Alright, you have to have English, Math, Science, PE, and Geography. Are you going to try and get into the advanced classes?"
"I figured Dad would probably make me take the placement tests this summer."
"Yeah, probably. I know John will, so you might as well. Wouldn't hurt at least." Scott grabbed his pencil and made a few marks on the paper. "Okay, now you have two to four credits left to fill."
"What does that mean?"
"Basically you have two to four classes to choose from. Some classes only last half the year and some are a full year. Like, I took a year of Home Economics so I could help Grandma a bit more. That's where I learned how to cook a little and to mend holes in clothes. That way we can make things last a little longer. Then you have to have some sort of music class, so I just took a semester of General Music, and the other semester I just did a study hall to get ahead for this year."
"I want to take Band." Virgil straightened up a bit, and leaned forward.
"Okay, Band is a year class. Do they have pianos in Band?"
"I don't know."
"Well, you'll need to figure it out. You have to put the instrument you want to play down and it says the director has to approve it." Scott leaned back in his chair for a moment, tapping the pencil on his lip. "If you don't mind waiting, I could swing by and ask the director for you."
"Really?" Virgil glanced up at his brother who just smiled down at him.
"Sure, I can do it before practice."
Virgil smiled a little, he had been worried about it himself but didn't know how he was going to get his answers on his own. "What about the other two classes?"
"Well, they have a couple of art classes, and—oh, this is a new class."
Virgil leaned over to see what Scott was looking at. He was still smiling and glanced over at him. "What?"
"I think you should try this class."
"What is it?"
"It's an Intro to Engineering class. Kinda surprised they're offering it to Seventh graders."
"What's that?"
"It's what Dad does now, well, kinda. Engineers basically try to solve problems by making or improving things." Scott sat up and turned toward Virgil, his eyes bright. "You see, Dad will look around and find problems. He's not an engineer himself so he hired some and tells them to fix the problems he's found. They come up with all kinds of ideas and Dad decides which one they will use."
"But it's the engineers that actually do the work?"
"Yeah, it takes a lot of creativity to do it. You should try it."
"I don't know." Virgil wrung his hands a bit in his lap. "I've never done anything like that before."
"Sure you have." Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and brought up some pictures he'd taken of Virgil's art. "All of these pictures of planes, you've changed them a bit."
"Why do you have pictures of those?"
"Cause I liked them." Scott smiled as he flipped through to one specific picture. "This is Dad's plane isn't it?"
"Kinda."
"Why did you change it?"
"I don't know, just thought it would look neat like that."
"Have to admit, I'm not sure it would fly with these wings, but it does look cool." Scott laid his phone down again. "But that would be the type of things you'd do. Anyways, it's only an introduction class, something to give you an idea of what it is. You did say you weren't sure what you wanted to do yet, right? It would be a good chance to just try it and see. If you don't like it, you know that's not what you want to do. But if you do—"
Virgil watched his brother for a bit but in the end just shrugged. "I guess it wouldn't hurt."
"Alright. We'll check that and that means you can either take the general art class or the Drawing I class."
"I was wanting to take the painting class."
"Well, the Drawing I class is a prerequisite for Painting I."
"What's a prerequisite?"
"It just means you have to take this first before you can take that."
"But I don't want to take the drawing class."
"No problem, I'll stop by the art room Monday as well and see if there's anything we can do about it."
"I'm sorry you have to do all of this."
"You know I'd do anything for you, right?" Scott reached up and ruffled Virgil's hair a bit.
"If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know!"
"Now that you mention it. I did promise Gordon and Alan that I'd take them out into the fields to play tomorrow. Want to come and help?"
Virgil couldn't help but smile. "Yeah!"
The weekend went by faster than Virgil expected, but Monday seemed to drag on. He was once again sitting on the porch step waiting for Scott to get home. He didn't have his sketch book this time though, he was too nervous to draw.
Virgil stood and started to pace across the porch, Scott was running late. Finally, almost a half hour after he usually got home, the car pulled into the driveway. Virgil was bouncing on his toes as Scott got out of the car and thanked the driver.
"Scott!" Virgil couldn't wait any longer and hopped over the three steps to the dirt path below.
"Hey, Virg." Scott reached out and ruffled his hair.
"Did you talk to them? The teachers?"
"I did, but it'll have to wait until after dinner. What's the plan for tonight?"
"I just put a pizza in the oven. Gordon's at swim practice."
"Where's Alan?"
"He's hanging out with John in the living room."
Scott paused and frowned a little. "How long have you been out here?"
"For a while now. I was waiting on you."
"And when did you put in the pizza?"
Virgil's face dropped as it went blank. He turned and darted into the house, Scott on his heels. They skidded to a halt right inside the door to the kitchen. Their father, John, and Alan were sitting at the table lazily eating a perfectly cooked pizza.
"You can't just leave something cooking in the kitchen, Virg." John was smiling a little.
"Yeah, Virg! You gotta watch it or you'll burn it like Grandma!" Alan was reaching for another piece but was stopped by his father's hand.
"Save some for your brothers, Alan." He smiled at the two. "Come along and eat up."
It was getting rather late when Virgil knocked on his father's office door. He had wanted Scott to come with him, but Scott had shook his head. He said that Virgil needed to do this on his own. So there he was, waiting for his father to acknowledge him.
"Come in."
His father's voice made him jump and it took a moment for him to calm down and push the door open.
"Ah, Virgil, what can I do for you?"
"I have my scheduling worksheet."
"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to come see me about that." His father gestured for him to sit down in the chair in front of the desk. "So, any idea what path you want to take from here on out."
Virgil was afraid he was going to ask that, but took a deep breath and shook his head. "No. Not really."
"And how are you going to know what to take if you don't know where you want to go?"
"Oh, but I have my worksheet figured out. At least for next year."
"Hand it over then." His father raised his eyebrows a bit, had a small frown on his lips, but held out his hand for the worksheet.
Virgil had to stand up in order to hand the paper to him, then sat back down in the chair and watched as his father read over the page.
"You're planning on taking the placement tests?"
"I figured you'd want me to, and I have to take the subjects anyways so, why not?"
"Not quite the answer I wanted, but you're not wrong either." His father allowed a small smile before he continued looking. "Band, and you're going to play the french horn? I'm not even sure what a french horn is. You aren't expecting me to buy one for you are you?"
"No, not at all!" Virgil scooted forward in the chair and tried to sit as straight as he could. "Scott went and talked to the director for me. I can borrow a horn from the school. You'll just have to go in and arrange it for me."
"Did Scott help you with this?"
Virgil shrank back a little. "Yeah. I asked him to help."
"I see. Alright, I said you could take music so I'll do what you need me to."
Virgil broke out in a large smile.
"Now, explain what's going on with these last two classes."
"Scott helped me with this too. He talked to the teachers about it, but again you'll need to go and finalize it for me." Virgil started to get a bit animated, his hands waved about as he talked. "The art teacher said I could skip the drawing class and take the painting class. But Scott thought I might like that engineering class, only those two classes are both taught during the second half of the year. So the art teacher offered to let me take the painting class by myself."
"As an independent study?"
"Yeah, that's what Scott called it."
"Seventh graders usually don't do independent studies." He leaned forward over his desk. "Do you think you can handle that? Did Scott explain what it meant?"
"He said I'd be responsible for getting the assignments and doing them and turning them in."
"That is correct. And you can't put this painting class above your other classes either."
Virgil nodded as he sat on his hands to keep them from shaking.
"Though I think Scott might be onto something with this engineering class. You always did like to know how things worked."
"So, is it okay?"
"As long as all the teachers and the school approves of it, I don't see why not." He reached over and grabbed his pen and signed it with a bit of a flourish. "I just happen to need to go to the school for John's schedule as well, I can finalize yours at the same time."
"Thank you!" Virgil jumped up from his chair ready to race up and tell Scott the news.
"Wait a moment."
Virgil froze just feet from the desk and slowly turned around.
"I appreciate you trying something new, but you do need to really start looking into different careers. Whether its music, art, or something else. Start doing some research and see what you think might be interesting. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Alright, go on, and tell Scott your news."
Virgil smiled and dashed out.
The rest of the school year seemed to drag by for Virgil. He was so excited about being in the band that nothing else seemed to be good enough anymore. He still took his piano lessons, but they were starting to lose their luster and by the time his recital came around the excitement just wasn't there anymore. So when his father suggested that they end the lessons, he was okay with it. It wasn't like he wouldn't be playing music any longer, just something different.
Virgil's last recital was the start to the last week of school. They had taken all of their tests the week before so that this last week was just cleaning, preparing to switch rooms, and for the sixth graders to leave. The whole school was organized and they had two field days where they played against each other—the classes were all mixed together so that the older students would help the younger. They had an awards program for all the grades—John and Virgil sweeping the sixth grade awards easily. And finally a little ceremony were the school said goodbye to the sixth graders.
That had been a bit emotional for Virgil since he was a grade above his friends. Of course he would see them over the summer a few times, but once school started again he would see very little of them. When the younger four Tracys got off the bus for the final time that year, Virgil lagged behind them all.
Alan and Gordon had taken off around the house, plenty of energy still to burn off before dinner. John was far enough back not to choke on their dust, his backpack filled with all the books that had wandered to school through out the year.
Virgil was dragging his book bag behind him kicking at the dirt as he walked. He hadn't really thought about leaving his friends when he went to the middle school, and that day had just shoved it in his face. With everything that went on during the summer, he'd maybe see them a couple of times. Then when school started, he doubted he'd see them at all.
"You'll make new friends, you know." John was next to him, a hand on his shoulder.
"But I liked my old friends just fine."
"And they'll still be your friends, you'll just make more."
Virgil sighed, John didn't seem to understand at all. But then, he would still see his friends next year.
They made their way into the house and Virgil barely acknowledged his grandmother before making his way up to his room.
He sat at his desk, staring at a blank piece of paper. He had thought to draw something, but nothing was coming to mind. His only thought was how much he hated having to skip grades. He still didn't see how it was helping him, he would have still learned the same stuff in the end.
He was so zoned out, that he didn't hear the small knock on the door, or Scott's steps as he walked into the room about an hour later.
"Hey, Virg. You okay?"
Virgil jumped and spun around wiping at his eyes a little. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Well, let's see if I can't improve that a little." Scott lifted something big and black up over Virgil's head and let it down with a small thump on the desk.
"What's that?" Virgil scooted away from the desk, but his eyes widened when he realized what it was Scott had brought him. "But how? I thought I couldn't get for another week."
"From what I was told, Grandma saw you get off the bus and got the scoop from John. She told Dad who then called the school and talked to the band director. I was called out of my last class half way through and told to bring this home."
Virgil was out of his seat and lifted the case over to his bed, eager to open it. He laid it flat, flipped open the latches with a click, and opened the lid. Inside the case was a shiny silver french horn.
"I do have a list of things to tell you as well." Scott sat down on the bed next to the instrument smiling. "The director gave you some rotor oil, a polishing cloth, and a mouth piece brush. Said you're to make sure to keep everything clean and oiled. Also said you can look online on how to care for it as well, but if you have any questions he said Dad should have his email."
Virgil had pulled the horn out of its case and was turning it over in his hand. "I can't wait to start practicing!"
"Don't forget to thank Dad."
Virgil was still inspecting the instrument a smile on his face. "Yeah, of course!" He carefully laid the horn back down and then darted out of the room. He ran down the stairs and zoomed past his grandma who had come to scold whoever was running in the house. Virgil burst his way into his father's office and tackled his father in a hug.
"Ah, Stan, can I call you back?" His father had been standing, talking to someone over the open line. The bust nodded with a smile and then disappeared. "I take it Scott's home."
"Thank you, Dad!" Virgil was still clinging to him, hugging him as tight as he could.
He could feel his father chuckle and then his arms wrapped around him and squeezed. Virgil wasn't ready to let go, and his father didn't move to pull him away either, instead he just started to pet his hair. "You do know that no matter how hard I push you in your other subjects, I am still quite proud of your music."
"And if I do want to make it my career?"
His father was quiet for a moment, but after a long exhale he finally pulled him away and looked down at him. "If that is what you choose, then I will try to be at every single performance you put on. However, before you make that decision, I want you to explore and try new things. Study hard in all of your subjects so that you'll be able to do anything you want should music not pan out like you'd like. Always have a Plan B. Never forget that. Okay?"
Virgil's smile faded just a little, but he tried to look serious and nodded.
"Okay, now a few rules."
"Rules?"
"A horn is a little more disruptive than a piano." his father sat down in his chair and leaned back. "If it's nice out, I'd like you to take it outside to practice. You could probably get some good acoustics in the old barn. Your mother would always sing when she helped with the chores out there."
"And for bad weather?"
"In your room, as long as Gordon is okay with it."
Virgil nodded serious in following his father's rules.
"Alright, I'm sure you're eager to get started. Go on." He gave Virgil a slight shove toward the door.
Virgil started for the door, but stopped turned and hugged his father once more before hurrying away.
"Hey, forgot something." Scott was standing in the hall, a silver item in his hand. "The last thing the director told me was to take this with you everywhere. Whenever you have a free hand and aren't trying to talk you should be tooting on this to get used to it."
"Dad!" Virgil stuck his head back in with the mouthpiece in his hand.
"He told me. Toot until someone complains then stop." His dad was back on his call and just waved him away with a smile.
Virgil closed the door and put the mouth piece to his lips and blew. The air passed through the piece without any obstruction or noise.
"I think you need to figure that out before you attach it to the rest of the instrument." Scott laughed a little as he took it from his brother and looked through it with one eye closed. "There's nothing to stop the air so I imagine there's more to it than just blowing through it."
Virgil frowned a little as he took the mouth piece back and looked through it like Scott had.
"The director said you'd need a lot of practice before being able to get a sound out of the horn so you better start practicing." Scott chuckled much like their father as he ruffled Virgil's hair and headed to the kitchen to help their grandmother.
Virgil flipped the mouthpiece around in his hand. Both Scott and his father called it tooting. When he was at camp he didn't get the chance to try playing any of the horns, but had stuck to the percussion equipment. He thought back to that camp though to see if he could remember anything that would help him.
Virgil wandered into the living room where Gordon and Alan were playing with some blocks on the floor and flopped onto the couch. The only thing Virgil could think of was that some of the kids' cheeks were really puffed out. Virgil took in a deep breath and blew through the mouth piece again, but still nothing.
Well, anything he could remember from camp didn't seem to help, so he thought back to when he had first learned he'd be playing the instrument. His dad had been right, he liked knowing how things worked and had wanted to see how the piano worked the first time he had sat down at one. So, the second his father approved of him taking band he had looked up how horns worked.
It was simple really, the instrument's only job was to resonate the vibrations of the air being forced through it. The keys lengthened or shortened the path the air took through the instrument causing the different notes.
It hit him, it was so easy. Vibrations. The horn didn't make the air vibrate, the player did. He took another deep breath, put the mouth piece to his pinched lips and blew. His cheeks puffed out, his face turned red, and he tooted.
Alan and Gordon, who had been making a ruckus in their own right, went silent at the noise. There was a pause where it seemed everyone had frozen—Virgil a little shocked that it had actually worked, and the two youngest at the strange, new noise. Then time started again and Alan and Gordon jumped from their spots on the floor and climbed onto Virgil trying to get his new toy from him.
"I wanna make noise too!" Gordon was trying to stand on Virgil's lap so he could reach up to where Virgil was holding the mouth piece.
"Me too!" Alan was standing next to him, pulling on his arm and trying to open up his hand.
"Alright. Sit quietly and you can try it." Virgil wasn't annoyed, his brothers were just being curious and that wasn't a bad thing. He would show them, and they would play with it for a bit before they got bored and went back to their blocks.
Just as fast as they had bounced to life, they were both sitting quietly on the couch looking at the their older brother expectantly.
Virgil slid off the couch and turned to face them. "Okay, first thing you need to be able to do is make a razz-berry."
The two boys looked at each other and then back to their brother. "I don't like raspberries."
"No, Gordon, not the fruit." Virgil couldn't help but smile at his brother. "Like this." He put his lips together and blew.
Alan laughed and bounced in his seat letting out his own wet razz-berry.
"No tongue, Alan, just your lips."
"How do raspberries help you make a noise?" Gordon had his arms crossed staring his brother down.
"Well then, you try it and see if you can make a sound." Virgil handed the piece of metal over to Gordon.
Gordon took it and looked at it for a moment before he put it to his lips and blew. Nothing but air came out.
"Let me try!" Alan reached over and snatched it from Gordon's hands and put it to his mouth. The toot was small and quiet but it was there. Alan grinned from ear to ear and tried again. His cheeks were huge and his face as red as John's hair, but the sound came out louder this time.
"Let me try!" Gordon reached for the mouth piece crawling over the top of Alan as he held it away.
"No, Imma gonna try again." Alan wiggled out from under Gordon and turned his back to him. He put it to his lips again and blew. This was the loudest by far, even louder than Virgil's attempt.
"That was awesome, Alan! How did you do that?" Virgil was staring down at the youngest amazed at how quick he had figured it out.
"Pinch your lips." Alan pulled the corners of his mouth back and blew making a small but more controlled razz-berry.
"That sounds like a fart!" Gordon laughed as he rolled over on top of Alan.
Virgil took the mouthpiece back from Alan—barely keeping it from getting snatched again by Gordon, and tried for himself. The noise that came out was loud, but very much controlled—he even tried to adjust the air and was able to change the tone of the toot. It was still difficult—he couldn't even imagine how hard it was going to be once he put the mouth piece on the horn—but at least he had figured out what he needed to practice.
"I want to try again! Alan got to toot it three times!"
"Alright, sit up." Virgil waited for Gordon to comply and then handed it over.
It took Gordon more than just three times to make a sound and by that time a clear liquid had run out of the end of the mouthpiece and down his hand.
"Eww! What is that?" Gordon tossed it back to Virgil and wiped his hand on his shorts.
"Spit, I imagine." Virgil used the end of his shirt to wipe it up a little.
"That's gross."
"What are you talking about? Just the other day you were trying to drool on Alan."
"My spit's okay, other people's is gross." Gordon slid off the couch. "Come on Alan, we still gotta save the people from the mutant alien squid!"
"We? You're the squid!"
"Yeah, so you better hurry or your fort is gonna fall!"
Alan scrambled off the couch to join Gordon back on the floor while Virgil continued to practice.
The rest of the summer passed with little incident. Virgil played during every minute he could trying to improve his ability. It was hard though, but he wasn't about to give up. Like his father asked he played outside most of the time. During storms he tried playing in his room, but Gordon would usually complain about it so Virgil would willingly put it up and skip practicing for the day—Virgil couldn't disagree, it was a loud and squawky instrument in his inexperienced hands. So, on those days he'd either play with his brothers or practice a little on the piano.
He was able to meet up and hang out with his friends a couple of times, and each time he left them he would be down the next day. His brothers would make sure that mood didn't stick for too long though.
The new school year came around quickly and Virgil was both excited and a little scared. He was eager to join the band for the first time, but a little scared about having to go from class to class without knowing if he'd know anyone. He shared only one class with John—math— which he was grateful for.
The first day was hectic, and most of Virgil's attention was focused on trying to find the classrooms he needed to go to. He did survive, though he wasn't entirely sure how well he was going to like the new school. He didn't know anyone in any of his classes—John of course the only exception.
Band was awkward. Everyone else knew each other cause they had been in sixth grade band together. Virgil had discovered that John was supposed to have told him about it, but had forgot. He wasn't mad at him though, he was still able to join so no harm was done, but still he felt like an outsider.
It was the same in all his other classes too. Everyone seemed to already know someone, or they seemed to instantly find the one person in the class they could talk to and be friends with. Virgil just didn't seem to ever that one person.
Days, weeks, and even a couple months passed and nothing seemed to change. He was doing okay with his subjects and got along with his teachers. He was even improving on his french horn and learning a lot in his painting class, but he still had not made any friends. It was the first time he could ever remember not having friends around him and he did not like it at all.
"Alright, can anyone finish the problem?"
Virgil could see the teacher turn to look at them, but he was concentrating on his paper and the problem the teacher had written on the board.
"Yes, Angel?"
"Forty-two."
"Afraid not. Let's go through this together."
Virgil frowned. He had just finished the problem himself and had gotten the same answer. He glanced over next to him where John sat, but he was busy with a different problem and didn't seem to be paying too much attention to the lecture.
Virgil rewrote the problem, but got the same answer as before so he compared it to the work the teacher was showing up on the board.
"Mrs. Thompson!"
"Yes, Virgil? Do you know the answer?"
"It's Forty-two."
"I already said that was incorrect."
"But it's not, ma'am. You forgot to round up in the second step." Virgil watched as the teacher blinked at him, but turned and stepped back from the board to look at her own work.
"Well, I sure did. Thank you Virgil for catching that."
Virgil couldn't help but smile a little and glanced back at Angel, only to find her glaring at him. His smile froze and then crumbled.
He couldn't concentrate at all for the rest of the period. He could still feel her staring at him, and every time he glanced back he wished he could disappear. When the bell finally rang Virgil stuffed his notebook into his bag and didn't even bother to zip it as he stood and pulled it onto one of his shoulders.
She was there though, as if she had been waiting for him even before the bell had rang.
"Ah, hi." Virgil took a step back and glanced over at John who was taking his time in putting his things away. "I'm sorry, if I did something—"
"Look. I knew I had the right answer. I didn't need you speaking up for me, or trying to be some hot shot know-it-all. You got that?"
"I'm sorry. I just—I was just trying—I didn't mean—" Virgil couldn't seem to get his thoughts in order, she was just staring at him in a way no one had ever looked at him before. He couldn't think of anything to say so he just apologized once more and then pushed himself past her and out of the room.
The hall seemed even more crowded than usual as he pushed his way through toward his locker. He seemed to bump into everyone and it didn't take long until his half open backpack spilled scattering his books.
He dropped to his knees and began stuffing the books back into his bag, his breathing was ragged as he tried his best not to break out crying.
"Virgil?"
A hand was on Virgil's and he realized it was shaking. He took in a deep breath and sniffed a little before looking up.
"Virgil?" John was kneeling down in front of him, one of his notebooks in his hand. "You okay?"
"Yeah. I'm fine." Virgil wiped at his nose as he took the notebook and jammed it into his bag.
"I may have my nose stuck in books most of the time, but even I can tell that's a lie." John took Virgil's bag from him and helped him back on his feet. "Come on."
"Where are we going?"
"Mr. Morris has prep this period."
"Who?"
"My programming teacher."
Virgil didn't argue too much, and followed John down the hall into a classroom.
"Mr. Morris?" John knocked on the door a little as they walked in.
"John, aren't you supposed to be in English?"
"Could we hide in here for a bit. I need to talk to my brother."
Virgil was trying his best to hide behind John, and didn't even look at the teacher.
"I see. Where is your brother supposed to be? I'll send a message to the teacher so he's not counted absent."
"Ah, Science, I think. Virg?"
"Yeah, Mr. Miller."
"Okay. Messages are sent, and I'll just wander down to the teacher's lounge for a snack."
"Thank you."
Virgil peaked out from behind John and watched the teacher as he nodded and made his way out of the room.
"Sit. Talk. What's wrong?" John sat down in a seat a few rows from the front.
Virgil hung back near the door. "Nothing."
"Did what that girl say bother you?"
"No." Virgil knew his brother wasn't going to believe him. Even he could hear the shake in his voice and the raspy inhale as he tried to keep the tears at bay.
"Hey." John was next to him again, and pulled his head to his chest. "It's okay to cry, you know that."
"I just don't understand." He couldn't hold the tears back anymore. He wanted to hug his brother, to cling to him, but knew not to force it so he just wrapped his arms around his own torso. "Why does she hate me so much?"
"She doesn't hate you. Well, I don't think she likes you much, but that's not your problem. It's hers."
"I-I've never had anyone look at me like that or talk to me like that. And it's not just her. So many people ignore me or give me dirty looks. What did I do to them?"
"You didn't do anything."
"I had to have! Why else would they hate me!"
"Nobody hat—"
"They do!"
The classroom was silent except for Virgil's sobs. After a moment John disappeared. Virgil looked up and watched as he walked to the front of the room and picked up the phone. He took John's silence as confirmation. They did hate him, but for what he didn't know. He leaned up against the wall and slid down it, burying his face in his knees.
He honestly didn't remember much of the rest of the afternoon. An adult came and helped John take him to the office where they tried to talk to him, but Virgil was tired of talking. They eventually gave up, and then his father was there.
Virgil didn't remember the trip home, walking up the stairs or even curling up in his bed. The only thing he could think of was wanting everything to just disappear.
"Virg."
Virgil had fallen asleep at some point, though probably not for long—he wiped at his eyes a little and they were still wet with tears.
"Virgil."
He blinked and looked up at the voice calling him. It was Scott, his brows drawn together so they were almost touching.
"Scooter!" Virgil sprang from his nest and latched onto his brother, clung to him and cried once again.
"Hey, hey. It's alright." Scott wrapped his arm just as tightly around Virgil and squeezed. "What's going on? John says you freaked out at school today."
"Nobody likes me, Scooter."
"I doubt that's true."
"It is. No one wants to talk to me, and that girl today—the way she looked at me. I was only trying to help!"
He could feel Scott take in a deep breath and let it out over his head. "I can remember you in kindergarten. You were determined to say hi to everyone every day. You just had to be friends with every single person in that room, and you were. You were friends with them for six years—you're still friends with them. Your not in elementary school anymore, Virgil. You can't be friends with everyone."
"I don't have to be friends, I just don't want them to hate me." The tears had slowed—Scott seemed to always have that power over him—but he hadn't loosened his grip any.
"No matter how hard you try, you can't make everyone like you."
"Why not?"
"There will always be someone out there that doesn't like you and you may never understand why, but that doesn't mean you've done anything to cause it." Scott sighed again as he petted Virgil's hair. "It may take time, but I bet you will make a lot of friends by the end of the year. "
It was the next morning, just after Scott's talk with Virgil. Band had just dismissed and everyone was hurrying to put their instruments away and head off to their next class. Virgil was just taking his time, cleaning what he could, polishing it a little. He just didn't want to go to second period.
"Virgil?"
Virgil jumped a little and looked around. Everyone else had gone, he was the last left other than the director. "Ah, sorry, guess I spaced out." He stashed his polishing cloth in the little cubby in his case and closed it, flipping the latches shut.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Virgil didn't seem to want to move. He needed to leave, needed to go off to his next class, but he just couldn't move.
The director watched him for a moment and then squeezed between the chairs and stands so that he could sit in the chair next to Virgil. "I've noticed that you don't seem to talk to anyone else in the band. Any reason for that?"
Virgil shrugged. "I don't think they want to talk to me."
"I doubt that's true."
"I've tried, but they just ignore me, or give me annoyed looks. I'm not sure I belong here."
"Are you enjoying it? The playing?"
"Yes, absolutely!" Virgil finally looked up at the director. "I love being a part of something big like this. It's so different than playing the piano alone. I just-I just wish I could be accepted as part of the band like everyone else."
"Do you have friends outside of this class?"
Virgil looked back down at his case in his lap as he picked a little at the plastic handle.
"You seem like a friendly kid. You aren't trying to change who you are to get friends are you?"
"No, I've done what I've always done in the past. I try to talk to people, but they don't like it when you interrupt them and their friends. I've tried to help others, but they think I'm trying to cheat and even the teachers have told me to keep to my own work."
"Have you had any opportunities to work in small groups in your other classes?"
"No, most of it is individual work."
"Alright. I'm going to email your teachers and tell them of the situation."
"No! Please, don't do that! It'll just make things worse!" Virgil had grasp the handle of his case hard, his knuckles turning white. "If they know I've complained—"
"Settle down. They won't tell the students. It'll be confidential information just for the teachers. I'll recommend some small group work, it'll give you a chance to get to know some of the other students, and the teachers may try to put you with others they think you'd get along with. But it would give you the opportunity to talk to them."
"Oh. What about here? We don't do small groups."
"On the contrary, we can. I was thinking of doing it a bit later, but we can do it this week."
Virgil frowned as he looked up at the director, but he didn't give him any more details and just squeezed his shoulder a little.
"Let me get you a pass to your next class. You don't want to miss anything important."
The next couple days didn't improve at all. Scott constantly asked how he was doing, and Virgil told him he was okay, but didn't think that Scott believed him. There really wasn't anything Scott could do though, it wasn't like he was at the same school. Even if he was, the last thing he wanted was his big brother trying to make people become friends with him.
John had included Virgil in his own small group of friends. Of course Virgil already knew them, they were the same friends John had had in elementary school. It didn't seem to help. They were nice to him and all, but they only saw them before and after school. The school day itself was still nothing but misery.
By Thursday Virgil was starting to give up hope. If his band director had sent out an email, his other teachers hadn't acknowledged it, that he could tell. Still he tried to smile and said hello to everyone he could.
The band director clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Today we're doing something different. We are going to split up into sections, and together I want you to work on your parts. I want everyone to try and give suggestions, and I will come around to each group throughout the period. Flutes to the cafeteria, clarinets and oboe to the small gym, saxophones to the courtyard, brass to the auditorium, and percussion of course stays here. Off you go!"
Virgil frowned, this was what he had been talking about. He sighed and grabbed his music and stand in one hand while carrying his horn in the other. He waited and followed the clarinets out of his row and then broke off to the door connecting the room to the hall that led to the auditorium.
He grabbed one of the chairs stacked off stage and made himself comfortable in the circle that had formed on the stage itself. Everyone was a little hesitant to take the lead, but finally one of the trumpet players counted off to get them going.
They played through the piece twice, but both times Virgil could tell something was off. He didn't know what the other parts were, so it was hard to tell what exactly it was.
"I'm not sure we're playing this right." One of the trumpet players finally announced. "Tubas, play your part real quick."
The tuba players nodded and the two of them counted off together and started playing. They played halfway through before the same trumpet player stopped them. "Are we playing the melody together?"
They both stood and walked to the middle of the circle to compare music. "Danny, this is no good. I can't read yours and you can't read mine."
"How are we supposed to help each other if we can't even understand what we're all supposed to be playing?"
There was mutual grumbling from the other players, but Virgil was busy thinking. The trumpets tended play the higher parts, the tubas the lower, Virgil's french horn, plus the trombones were somewhere in the middle.
He looked around real quick and caught sight of what he was looking for just off the side of the stage. Standing, he squeezed out of the circle, ignoring the questions behind him and darted back into the band room. He had hoped the director hadn't taken it with him and he was happy to see he hadn't. He grabbed the binder that still sat on the director's stand and took it back with him into the auditorium.
The group he had left behind were openly talking to each other trying to figure out the music, but stopped cold when Virgil reappeared. "Where did you go?"
"I needed the score."
"What for?"
"So I could see all the parts." Virgil could feel their eyes follow him as he made his way to the piano on the far side. He carefully sat the director's score on the music rack and hiked up the bench a little before scanning it and carefully laying his hands on the keys.
He wasn't going to be able to play all of the notes but maybe enough to figure out just where they were making their mistakes. He played through the first half of the song a few times, each pass emphasizing a different instrument's part.
Finally after several minutes he turned around to face the others. "None of us are playing the melody at the same time. The trumpets start, and—" He turned to glance at the score again. "About two measures later the trombones and I pick it up. The tubas are echoing various parts but never the whole melody."
Everyone was just watching him silently. Virgil slumped a little, and turned around to grab the score to take it back, afraid he had once again made enemies instead of friends.
"You can play the piano?"
Virgil turned back around and Danny had stepped forward, blinking at him. "Um, yeah."
"And you can read both clefs?"
Virgil opened his mouth to reply, but Danny waved the question away.
"That is like really cool! And now you're playing the french horn?"
"How long have you played the piano?" Another voice popped up.
"Since I was four."
"Have you played the french horn that long too?" And another.
"No, I just stared this summer."
"Why weren't you in sixth grade band?"
"I wasn't in class the day they learned about it, and my brother forgot to tell me."
"Jeez, you would think you'd remember to tell your piano playing brother about band."
"He tends to have a one track mind about some things, I'm not mad at him or anything."
"Man I would be."
"Yeah, me too!"
"Me three!"
"You know you're kinda cool. You should have spoken up earlier."
Virgil almost wanted to mention that he had tried, but decided not to, instead he just smiled.
"Alright, let's try this again and remember what Virgil said." Danny had called the group back to order and Virgil quickly made his way back to his seat and his horn.
They played through the piece again, Danny stopping a couple of times to correct some of the trumpets and even directly asked Virgil how he thought they were doing. By the time the director had showed up to check on them they had improved quite a bit in Virgil's opinion and even the director praised their progress.
Virgil didn't miss his raised eyebrows thrown in his direction and Virgil nodded and smiled as Danny once again prompted for them to start again.
Virgil's awesomeness traveled quickly through the band and soon almost everyone had started talking to him. He noticed that many of the band members were also in his other classes and he was welcomed into their circle of friends with eagerness. There were still people that thought he was stuck up, or a teacher's pet—Angel continued to give him disgusted looks every time he answered one of the teacher's questions—but he realized that it didn't matter, just as Scott and John had said, if other's didn't like him, it was their problem and not his. All he could do was be himself.