Mom dropped me off and I stood in the parking lot until the band director opened the back door. We filed down the hallway where we'd stow our instruments that fall to keep them from banging against our legs, tripping classmates walking past our desks.
He let us sit wherever we wanted in the curved rows of seats, just this once. We weren't in sections yet, but people were still grouped off. Loud boys joking around in the back row, quieter boys mingling in the second row, girls whispering in clumps on the first row, peering at the director's music stand like he held secrets there.
I always struggled to make friends, so I shouldn't be mad at Mom for signing me up for this, but I preferred being alone. I sat next to another shy-looking girl and wondered how band could help me. Band nerds were mocked in every piece of pop culture I'd ever seen. Yet I'd have a built-in group of nerds surrounding me... Maybe it would balance out.
I loved rock music, spent my time holed up in my room listening to it. I especially loved tracks with strong drums and those that featured horns, so I debated picking one of those instruments. I pictured myself getting good enough to join a band. That would solve my friend problem for sure.
The band director started alphabetically, making notes of instrument choices on the roll as he called names. It seems like everyone else already knew what they wanted to play. Like they had thought about this moment instead of anxiously avoiding it. I felt sweat bead along my hairline.
The boys were choosing everything: percussion, trombone, tuba, trumpet. One boy chose clarinet, which made the girls giggle. Girls were choosing clarinet and flute. One chose saxophone. One chose french horn. None chose percussion or trumpet like I wanted. Sweat formed in my armpits.
The band director called my name. This was my moment to stand out. To start my journey towards being a rock star. I still couldn't decide between drums or horn, but I knew I'd be happy with whichever came out of my mouth.
"Flute," I announced, then slumped back in my seat in shock. The girls around me squealed; they had another in their clique! I smiled wanly.
When the band director had us all stand so we could learn the seating arrangement, the girls ushered me into their flock. I felt their arms on my arms, the barrage of voices asking names and favorite colors and what elementary school everyone had come from.
I glanced over at the two quiet boys who had picked trumpet. They were pursing their lips like they had imaginary horns to play, backs ramrod straight as if they were ready to march.
Mom would be pleased.
510 words
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