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“A BAND?” MRS. JONES echoed carefully. “How would you do that?”
“Well, I’d have to get permission from the school, of course. But we could meet at the school, in the choir room a few times a week.” Mr. Jones rubbed his hands together, grinning like a toddler at Easter. “This could work.”
“You work full-time, Jim,” Mrs. Jones said, a note of impatience in her voice. “When do you have time?”
“Well, there’s before work, or after work. There’s always a way, Karen.” Her father’s tone matched her mom’s, a touch of irritation that she wasn’t as excited as he was.
“I think it’s a great idea!” Cassie threw in. She was already thinking about what fun it would be to have a band at school, and have her dad in charge, no less!
“I’ll talk to Ms. King tomorrow,” he said. “Why don’t I drive you guys to school?”
“Yes!” Emily exclaimed.
Cassie grinned. They wouldn't have to ride the bus tomorrow. Or stand in the freezing weather while they waited for it to come. Things were already looking up.
a
Cassie sat in her fifth-grade class, copying down the morning warm-ups from the board, when the intercom made the staticky sound that indicated the announcements were about to come on.
“Attention, please,” the voice began. Cassie kept working. She could listen and get stuff done at the same time. Most of the announcements wouldn’t apply to her, anyway. Reminders about car riders and walkers, sign ups for some activity.
“In addition to the Just Say No club, next week we are proud to announce that we will be starting a band.”
Cassie put her pencil down and straightened. Her dad had been so excited after he talked to Ms. King, but he hadn’t been sure the administration would approve his band. They must have told him yes!
“It will be under the direction of Jim Jones and will meet every Friday morning at seven a.m. in the music room. Fourth graders and above are invited to join.”
No third graders. Cassie felt a guilty twinge of satisfaction. Emily wouldn’t be able to join.
“Please bring any instrument of your choice. Instruments will not be provided for you. If you have any questions, please contact Ms. King.”
Cassie’s hand shot into the air.
“Not now, Cassie,” Ms. Dawson said. “We’re listening to the announcements.”
Cassie heaved a sigh of frustration and hunkered down in her chair. A moment later they all stood for the Pledge of Allegiance, and then the intercom clicked off.
“All right, everyone has five more minutes to finish up their warm-ups.”
Cassie lifted her hand again, sitting up very straight in her chair.
“Yes, Cassandra, you have a question?”
“That’s my dad’s band,” she said importantly. “He started it. He’s the director.”
“Well, that’s very nice, Cassie.”
“I’ll be joining it,” she continued. “It was my idea. I’m going to play the clarinet.”
“Can’t wait to hear you play. Anyone have any questions about the board work?”
Matthew Grace, the boy who had sat near Cassie all year, leaned toward her. “I’ve always wanted to be in a band. I think that’s so cool. Can I bring my keyboard?”
“Sure!” Cassie said. “My dad said any instrument.” She glanced around to see if anyone else wanted to ask her about the band, but the other students were concentrating on the assignment.
“Are you going to join the band?” she asked her best friend Riley at recess.
“I don’t think anyone will want to drive me to school that early,” she said. “And I don’t have an instrument.”
For a moment she thought about asking her other friend, Danelle, if she was coming. But Danelle hadn’t really spoken to her since they started up again after Christmas. Cassie shrugged it off. There’d be other kids she knew. She could hardly wait for Friday. It would be so much fun.
a
“I’m home!” Mr. Jones called, coming in the front door.
“Hi, Daddy,” Cassie said as he came into the kitchen. She didn’t even look up from where she unloaded the dishwasher.
“What happened to all my little children that used to come running to my arms?” he asked, pausing to give her a hug.
“We grew up?”
“Daddy!” As if on cue, little Annette rounded the corner into the kitchen. She threw her arms around his legs and grinned up at him.
“Guess what?” Cassie said, putting the last knife away in the drawer. “They announced your band today in school. Said it starts Friday. I’m so excited! I can’t wait!”
He smiled. “Well, that’s fantastic news, because look what I’ve got here.” He led her back into the dining room, where what looked like two small suitcases sat under the piano bench. Her dog Scaredy sniffed them, then curled up around one and went to sleep.
“What are they?” Cassie asked, a niggle of excitement sprouting in her chest.
Her dad knelt and opened one up. The case was velvet lined, with small cylinder pieces fitted inside. “A clarinet. Let me show you how to put it together.”
“Wow.” A smile stretched across her face. She watched her dad connect the cylinders until he had a long tube. “Where did you get it?”
“I’m renting it from someone at church.”
She looked at the other case. “What’s in that one?”
“Another clarinet.”
“Oh.” She frowned as a suspicion darkened her mind. “Do I need two?”
He chuckled as he connected the mouthpiece. “No. It’s for Emily.”
“But—but they said in morning announcements that it’s only for fourth grade and up. Emily’s in third.”
“Ah, yes.” Mr. Jones handed her the completed clarinet. “But as the band director, I am entitled to certain privileges.”
So Emily got to be in the band, too. And she’d play the clarinet. Cassie accepted the instrument, a hollowness in her chest. Couldn’t she have one thing that was her own? Just one? “Is Scott coming to? Playing the drums?”
“No.” He shook his head. “First grade is too young. Scott couldn’t sit still long enough to learn a beat. But Emily’s a very advanced third-grader. I’m sure she’ll do great.” He nodded at the clarinet in her hands. “Don’t you want to try it?” he asked, oblivious to the change in her mood.
“No, that’s all right.” Cassie handed it back. “I’ll wait until Friday with everyone else. Thanks for getting it.”
a
Emily kept up a constant stream of excited conversation the whole drive to school on Friday. Cassie was grateful to be in a warm car, though they’d had to leave the house super early to get to practice on time. And her stomach tumbled over and around itself with nerves. She wished now that she’d let her dad give her some instruction before band started. What if everyone could play but her? What if she just wasn’t very good?
They were the first ones in the music room, but it wasn’t quite seven a.m. yet. Her dad set up a music stand and placed pictures around the room of different instruments.
“Let’s have you girls sit over here,” he said, directing Emily and Cassie to a spot on one side of the room.
“What if we’re the only ones that come?” Cassie asked.
“You won’t be,” her dad said, looking quite satisfied with himself. “I had several parents call and verify the information. We should have a good crowd.” He showed her and Emily how to put their clarinets together.
They had just finished when a few more kids walked in, toting various instruments of all sizes. Cassie recognized Konner Lane, a kid from one of the other fifth grade classes. He carried with him a small set of drums.
“Hi,” Cassie said. “I’m in Ms. Dawson’s class.”
“Hi,” he replied without quite meeting her eyes. He then moved to the farthest end of the music room and set up his drums.
Cassie frowned, then shrugged it off. Who really understood boys? Maybe he didn’t want to be friends. She waited to see if Matthew would show up with his keyboard, but he didn’t.
“All right, let’s get started,” her dad boomed, raising his hands behind the music stand in the center of the room. “I’m Mr. Jones. I’m also Cassie and Emily’s dad.” He waved at them. “Everyone should have their instruments assembled by now, yes?” He glanced around, and no one contradicted him. “Let’s see what you know. Everyone, hit middle C.”
Hit what? Cassie glanced around as the kids fumbled with their instruments. Emily put her fingers on the clarinet and blew a note. Varying sounds began to screech out of the other instruments, very few of them matching the note Emily blew.
Cassie put her mouth on the reed and blew, frustration boiling up inside her. She didn’t even know what middle C sounded like, and definitely didn’t know where to find it on the clarinet. Wasn’t her dad going to teach her? Of course Emily knew. She played piano. She knew everything about music.
Her dad walked around the room, repositioning hands, tightening strings. He got to Cassie and moved her fingers to press different buttons. She pulled the clarinet from her mouth.
“I don’t know how to play the clarinet. You have to teach me where middle C is.”
“I am teaching you,” he replied, and walked away.
