Another band rehearsal had ended. Simon, Eric, and Dana bravely walked towards Ms. Larson to ask for another chance at an audition.
It had been Simon's idea. "We have nothing to lose," he explained.
"Not even Ms. Larson's favor?" Dana worriedly double-checked.
Eric knew the answer to that one. "I don't think it's very high at the moment."
"Okay…but you're doing the talking."
"Relax!" Simon assured her. "I'm a charismatic, trustworthy, leader. Remember?"
He approached the podium confidently. "Ms. Larson? We all know that we didn't do so well on our auditions."
"Couldn't have said it truer myself," Ms. Larson replied with a sigh.
"So in the interest of determining who's the first chair, we'd like to try again."
"Not in a million years! It's your problem, after all."
"That's just not fair!" Dana yelled.
"That's just the way it is."
Meanwhile…
The French horns each would put their own music away after rehearsal. In all the other sections, it fell to the first chair to do that. As Kimberly methodically stacked the paper, she realized what she'd been looking for the last time. Up at the very top it said, Dedicated to the students of Springfield Senior High.
This was not the surprise-two of the last concert's pieces had said similar things. One was for homecoming weekend, and one was to commemorate the school's hundredth anniversary. As far as Kimberly knew, Aurora had never had a piece of music written for it, but she'd played the preceding two with pride.
It was the words underneath that Kimberly paid attention to: In memory of Theodore Flit.
And she knew.
As she carried the papers out, she turned to say "Let me get this straight. Theodore Flit was a student at Springfield Senior High who died, right?"
"Couldn't have said it truer myself," Ms. Larson confirmed, although she didn't seem to be paying much attention.
"So why do we have to play a song about it? It only reinforces our society's pessimistic attitude. Can't we play a song dedicated to, oh, some sports team who rallied to win a championship of some sort? Or something sanguine?" Kimberly was very proud that she knew what sanguine meant.
"Not in a million years! It's your problem, after all."
Kimberly was really mad now. "No it isn't! It's Theodore Flit's problem. If he died young, must I feel guilty I'm alive?"
"That's just the way it is."