Notes From An Accidental Band Geek by Erin Dionne Read Free Book Online Page B

asked.
    “Elsie, Hector, and I have biology,” Sarah said. She gave me a tentative smile. Maybe she’d finally gotten over the articulation incident? I hoped so. I didn’t think I could eat with them very often if all I had to listen to was Star Wars talk.
    Jake had math—honors geometry. “I’m a math geek as well as a band geek,” he said with a grin as he gathered his stuff. “You know, Jake of all trades, master of none.” Everyone else laughed, but inside, I was kind of jealous. I could never make fun of myself like that.
    All of us made our way back into the main hall and Jake and Steve split off to go to the science and math wing.
    “May the force be with you,” Hector said to them.
    After the good feeling I got at the table, I hoped it would be with me too.
     
     
     
    On Monday, at our next band practice, we lined up on the field to learn how to march in for our field show. You’d think it’d be easy—stand shoulder to shoulder across the “away” team’s sideline (amazing how many sports terms you had to learn to be in band), step off together, and walk straight across the field, stopping when you reached your spot.
    Unfortunately, it seemed that no one could walk a straight line to save their lives, and since everyone was still double- and triple-checking their spots, it was total chaos.
    After the fifth time through, when we still couldn’t get it, Mr. Sebastian and AJ were nearly apoplectic.
    “What is the matter with you people?” AJ shouted. “You’re not playing, you’re not even holding your instruments . You’re walking! Can’t you walk ?! The Minutemen will walk away with our trophy if this is the best you can do!” He jumped up and down on the podium like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. I couldn’t help it; the sight just cracked me up. I laughed. Out loud. We were supposed to be at attention.
    “Who thinks this is funny?” AJ shouted. “You think this is funny ? Oh, it’s hysterical that you guys stink so bad! Who laughed?”
    My veins went icy, and a crawly sensation danced through my stomach. Uh-oh.
    “Spill it,” AJ said, “or you’ll all do laps tonight.”
    Everyone stood stock-still, holding at attention, barely breathing. A hot flush crept out from my collar to cover my face.
    “I’ll count to three,” AJ barked. “One . . .”
    Should I step forward? Raise my hand? Wave? Do nothing? The people around me—Steve and Punk—had to know it was me who laughed. We were standing too close together for them not to. I slid my eyes in Punk’s direction. The corner of his mouth twitched. I didn’t know what that meant. Did he think it was funny? Was he mad that he might have to run because of me?
    “Two . . .”
    Oh, whatever. It’s marching band. It’s not like it’s real band or anything.
    I tensed my leg to step forward.
    Punk did, instead. “Dude, it was me,” he called. “You look like you’ve got freakin’ ants in your pants up there. Chill!” He laughed again, like he was making his point.
    “You ?” Even from where I was standing—about twenty yards away—I could tell that AJ didn’t believe Punk. We have totally different laughs. Mine is a lot higher, and Punk’s sounds like, well, the way you’d expect a guy with pink hair and safety pins hanging from his ears and nose would laugh—cackly and scratchy.
    Punk nodded. My stomach flipped. Why was he doing this for me ? Should I stop him ? Was he going to be mad at me later? I had no idea what to do or how to react.
    AJ cocked his head like a dog.
    “Five laps, then,” he said. Punk tucked his elbows into his sides and jogged toward the sidelines. As he took off, I swore I heard him utter a soft “Buck-buck-ba-gawk.” I caught a snatch of muffled giggles from the woodwinds nearby.
    That did not make me feel better.
    “The rest of you,” AJ said, “back to the line. Let’s run this again. And I mean run ! ”
    We raced back to where we began and did the drill again. And again. And