Brass Monkeys by Terry Caszatt Read Free Book Online Page A

caught up with me in the hall.
    “You did it,” Harriet said. “You made it through con and you were great.”
    “Great?” I said. “I didn’t do anything at all. I just hung on until the dumb class was over.” I took a deep breath and started my denial speech. “The truth is, guys, no way am I—”
    “Listen, Tonka-bud,” Alvin blatted over me. “Don’t feel bad. I mean, you didn’t come out punching like I hoped you would, but you were cool. I think you kind of threw old Stroby off his pace.”
    “No, he didn’t.” Weeser shook his head gloomily. “The class was the same mess, melee, and stupid muddle it always is. Total confusion.”
    “Yeah, and I was totally confused,” I admitted. “I mean, what was that bit when he dropped part of the bee and then said, ‘Monkeymind.’ Was that like some kind of inside joke?”
    The three of them stared at me, looking confused themselves.
    “When was that?” said Weeser. “I don’t remember it.”
    “I don’t recall it either,” added Harriet. “But he says and does so many crazy things. Maybe I didn’t hear that part.”
    I couldn’t believe it. I started to say something about the incident being “so obvious” when the hall bell rang with such a racket that I jumped nervously.
    “First bell!” Alvin’s low voice growled out. “We talked too long. Now we gotta move, and move fast!”
    He led us swiftly down the hall, and for the moment I forgot about Strobe and also my pathetic attempt at denial.
    “So where in heck are we headed now?” I sounded whiny and scared.
    “To the gym for Thunderous Bore’s band class,” replied Weeser, “where we play our one and only march.”
    “Which march is that?” I asked. “I really like marches.”
    Harriet shivered. “You won’t after you hear this one.”
    “It’s so boring, it’ll rot your socks,” said Alvin. “Or worser.”
    I thought they were exaggerating. First of all, I love music. I play my trumpet practically all the time, and I couldn’t imagine ever being bored by any kind of music. But it turned out I was wrong. I’d never heard the “one and only march” before, and I had no idea that Alvin’s “worser” was about to happen to me.

8

march of the midnight scholars
    When we got inside the gym, I expected to hear the honking, too-tling, and drumming that goes on before band starts. Instead, there was almost a dead silence. The chairs and stands were set up on the gym floor and kids were taking out their instruments, but there wasn’t one note of music to be heard. There was nothing except the sound of shuffling feet and an occasional whisper.
    I saw Harriet heading for the clarinet section. I walked over to the trumpets and found a seat at the end of the row. While I was taking out my horn, I spotted Alvin lifting a big tuba out of its case. He gave me a grin and a clenched fist. A moment later I found Weeser in the percussion section, standing by the bass drum. He waggled his drumstick at me, his green eyes gleaming hopefully.
    I swallowed down an acrid taste in my mouth. I couldn’t imagine what they thought I could do. All I wanted was to stay quiet and out of sight.
    I turned to a tall, thin girl who sat beside me. She was practicing on her trumpet, blowing into it silently and tapping away on the keys.
    “Excuse me,” I said. “Where’s the music?” I pointed at the empty music stand.
    She gave me a mousy look, then whispered, “Supposed to have it memorized.”
    “Yeah, but I’ve never seen the music, or even heard it,” I whispered back.
    A flicker of uneasiness crossed her face. “Believe me, you’ll hear it today.” She suddenly stopped and looked toward the gym door. I followed her gaze and saw a tall, hatchet-faced man walking slowly toward the director’s podium.
    I gave Harriet a questioning glance and she mouthed back, “Fundabore.”
    Where Strobe’s face had been fiery with zits, Fundabore’s looked dry and white, like the underbelly of a