The Immortal Tuba: Part I of II

Reighsly was a small town. It had exactly four streets, the main being Reighs Road. Located on Reighs Road was the town hall, library, post office, a few small stores, the old abandoned train station, two pubs, and the high school, called Reighsly High. Reighsly High was known for miles for its marching band, the Reighsly Ruffians.

The legend of the Ruffians was strong: they had yet to not place in a competition, their marching skills were superb, and the music they place was catchy and rarely had any mistakes. The trust they had in each other was deep and true.

This year their program was entitled, "Tales of Scotland". The band had only just finished band camp, and yet they had it entirely memorized. In fact, the band director was almost tempted to say it was flawless.

Nothing could go wrong.

At their first competition, they blew everyone else away. Spectators watched, with looks of stun upon their faces, as the band moved together, uniform with one another, leaving them with tears in their eyes from their heartfelt, moving performance. As the drum major stepped forward to receive the trophy at the end, the audience rose up together in a standing ovation. The Reighsly Ruffians grinned at one another happily, slapping high fives, pulling smuggled Mountain Dew out of their uniforms. The band director stood slightly apart from the rest of them, a look of fierce pride upon his face.

Afterwards, the Ruffians marched toward their bus. They stopped together at a call from the drum major and proceeded to load their instruments. Extra care was taken with the sousaphone, but not too much. You never know what others might think.

The return trip was joyous. The seniors had been through many victories, but the feeling never wears off. Laughing, they joked together and changed out of their uniforms, hanging them on hangers and tossing them all into an empty seat.

Well, they thought it was empty. After hearing a few peeps of surprise, they pulled everything away and found a small freshman nestled in among the scarlet uniforms and various flute cases.

"Sorry," they said.

But the freshman was apparently used to it. "That's okay."

After arriving back at the school, the entire band helped unload and return everything back into the band room. But something was wrong. The small freshman noticed it first, but being afraid of the shocked looks he would receive if he should tell, decided to remain quiet and go inside to lock up his instrument.

It turned out to be a junior trombone player who noticed it.

"WE'RE RUINED!" he shouted.

A few people stared. "Uh… what?" They all looked very confused, and as more people gathered to give odd looks at the trombonist, a crowd began to form.

"What's going on here?" the band director yelled, noticing the commotion. "Excuse me, coming through…" He began to push through the crowd, glancing around at the looks of panic growing on more and more faces.

He arrived at the scene, the end of the open instrument truck, and stopped. Staring, he turned around. "He's right. We are ruined."

Mass pandemonium broke out. "I can't believe it!" people shouted. The small freshman returned outside and was quickly overwhelmed in the frightened crowd.

The Reighsly Ruffians' secret to success was missing.

The silver sousaphone was gone.

Within a week, ads had been posted everywhere, announcing a reward for the return of the school's sousaphone. The entire band was distraught, and the band director cancelled their future competitions. Other bands began to criticize him, asking him why he couldn't just buy another sousaphone.

"Uh… we can't afford it right now," he said nervously, hoping no one remembered that the school had just bought seven new cellos for the orchestra and had plenty left over.

The sousaphone in question was very old. It was full of dings and had been through many falls in the mud. People wondered why anyone would want such a thing, let alone steal it.

The band director had another idea.

Someone knows, he mused silently one day. Someone knows what that sousaphone is.

To be continued! Second half will be in the next chapter.