When I walked into the band hall Thursday afternoon, I knew right away Mr. Dante had posted the final chair test results thanks to the small crowd around his office door. Standing on my toes, I saw two sheets: one with our chair order for the concert tonight, and one for next year’s advanced band. When I found my name on the first sheet, my heart skipped a beat.
French Horn
1. Holly Mead
2. Natasha Prynne
3. Owen Reynolds
4. Brooke Dennis
The French horn section for next year’s band was the same, but with the name Brian Parry in place of Brooke’s. The sixth-grade boy, I remembered with a grin—he’d managed to beat the few seventh-graders in symphonic band. He must be excited. I sure had been when I’d made advanced band as a seventh-grader.
And now I was first chair! The only other time this year I’d been first chair was after I was ranked higher than Natasha at all-region auditions. And I’d always wondered if that had been some sort of fluke, since Mr. Dante had never placed me higher than Natasha. But now he had.
When I saw Natasha walk into the band hall, I couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit apprehensive. I watched as she came over to check the results. Her face lit up, and she looked around till she spotted me.
“I knew it!” Natasha hurried over and gave me a quick hug. “Seriously, I so knew you’d be first chair after I heard your audition.” Relief flooded me, because she seemed genuinely excited.
“Just for now,” I said, grinning. “We’ll have lots of chair tests next year, right?”
Natasha nodded. “Yup. You’d better watch out,” she teased as we headed to the cubby room.
“Hopefully this is the last time we have to wear these.” Julia made a face, poking at the velvet bow on the puffy sleeve of her dress.
I nodded. “Yeah. Maybe we can do a bake sale in the fall again.”
We headed back to the band hall for warm-ups, passing Aaron and Liam on the way. It suddenly dawned on me that this was our last performance ever with all the eighth-graders. The thought made me a little sad.
Although next year I’d be an eighth-grader, which was pretty awesome (and maybe a tiny bit intimidating).
After warm-ups, we headed to the auditorium to watch the beginner band’s performance. I sat between Owen and Natasha. As soon as I spotted Brian up on the stage, I pointed him out.
“He’s in our section next year,” I told them. “He’s really good. And Mr. Dante said he’s a perfectionist, like . . .” I stopped, and Owen laughed.
“Like you?”
“Well . . . yeah,” I admitted.
Natasha nodded approvingly. “Excellent.”
We left before the symphonic band’s last song to get our instruments and line up outside of the backstage entrance. Before I knew it, we were filing onstage and taking our seats. Seeing the auditorium filled with people made me smile. UIL had been fun, but performing in front of an actual crowd was always way better.
Mrs. Park talked for a few minutes before we played, and the band boosters presented little gift bags to all the eighth-graders. I noticed the laptop and projector set up to the side of the stage, and smiled to myself. Mrs. Park was the only one who knew about the surprise Owen and I had planned for Mr. Dante.
We played a few fun, easy songs Mr. Dante had given us after UIL first. Then it was time for one last performance of “Labyrinthine Dances,” which was the part I was most excited about. I’d triple-checked to make sure my dad had brought his video camera before we’d left the house.
And it was a good thing, too. By now, we all practically had the song memorized. The applause when we finished seemed to go on much longer than usual. It took a few seconds for me to realize Mrs. Park had flipped on the projector.
“Before the last song, a few of our students have a little surprise for Mr. Dante,” she said cheerfully. “Do either of you want to say anything?” she added, looking from me to Owen.
Red-faced, Owen just shook his head. I grinned at Mrs. Park. “Just play it!” I called, and she smiled.
“Here we go!” She tapped PLAY, and we all shifted in our seats to see the giant projector screen. When the title Evil Robot Band Directors appeared, everyone started to laugh, including Mr. Dante.
Our cartoon was only half a minute long, but I had to admit it was pretty hilarious. A bunch of crazed robots waving conductor’s batons crashed a rehearsal and started wrecking the band hall, until the superhero band director (who kind of looked like a cross between Mr. Dante and Superman) flew in and used his powers to turn them all into trophies. When it finished, I saw Mr. Dante take off his glasses to wipe his eyes, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
It took a minute after the cartoon ended for all the giggling to die down so we could play the last song. And no sooner had we played the last note than Gabby started cackling again. “I’m so getting Dante a cape for concerts next year,” she said as we filed off the stage.
Out in the lobby, I spotted my parents leaving the auditorium. Chad came out a few seconds later, along with Amy.
“That’s . . . weird,” Trevor said, and I glanced at him.
“You didn’t know they were dating?”
“No, I found out a few weeks ago,” Trevor replied. “It’s still weird, though.”
“You’re telling me.” I squinted at Chad. “God, I think my brother actually used gel in his hair.”
After saying hello to Owen’s family, I left him with Megan begging to see the robot cartoon again and walked over to my parents. Dad was standing with his hands behind his back, and they were both smiling in a weird way, like they had a secret.
“Fantastic job!” Mom exclaimed, giving me a hug. “The music and the cartoon—that was too funny!”
“Thanks!” I said. “Did you record everything?”
Dad nodded. “Yes, ma’am. And . . .” He and Mom exchanged grins, and I narrowed my eyes.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, we’ve been talking lately about how well you’ve done in band this year,” Mom said. “First chair, all-region . . . so we have a little surprise for you.”
Dad held out a piece of paper. I took it, read the first line, and almost dropped my horn.
DEAR CAMPER,
WE ARE HAPPY TO CONFIRM YOUR REGISTRATION FOR LAKE LINDON BAND CAMP!
“Are you serious!” I cried, hopping up and down. “Really, I can go?”
“Really,” Mom said, beaming. “They sent a whole packet—it’s at home. There’s a packing list, a schedule, I think even a few exercises for you to start practicing.” She laughed at the expression on my face. “I have to admit, this camp looks kind of like Holly Heaven.”
“Thank you!” I yelled, hugging them both. “Can I go tell Julia and Natasha?”
Dad nodded. “Go ahead. I think we should go say hello to Amy’s parents, don’t you?” he added, smiling at Mom.
“Absolutely,” she said, her voice serious. “I’m sure Chad will appreciate it.”
I couldn’t stop smiling as I hurried across the lobby to where Natasha stood talking with Julia and her parents. This summer was going to be awesome.
After two days of final exams, everyone was pretty wired Wednesday morning. And since it was both a half day and the last day of school, most teachers seemed to pretty much give up on doing any sort of real lesson. In English, Mr. Franks had us play a trivia game about Shakespeare, which led to Gabby doing an overly dramatic reading of Romeo’s speech to Juliet that gave everyone a serious case of the giggles. During PE third period, Coach Hoffman sipped what I bet was not her first cup of coffee while watching us play a rather rowdy game of volleyball.
Since school would be dismissed after fourth period, Mr. Dante put us to work cleaning the band hall. We stacked chairs and music stands, cleaned out our cubbies, and covered all the instruments in
the percussion section. Then we spent the rest of the class signing yearbooks. The chatter grew steadily louder and more animated, with someone glancing up at the clock every few seconds.
I joined Aaron and Liam for a few minutes, swapping yearbooks and listening with interest as they talked about the camp they’d be doing at Ridgewood for marching band later this summer. “It’s going to be weird next year without you guys,” I told them, writing a few funny tips in Aaron’s yearbook about how to keep his music folder organized.
Aaron nodded. “But hey, the year after that you’ll be in marching band with us.”
“That’s true!” I said, although that seemed like an awfully long time from now. Brooke sat down with us, taking my yearbook from Aaron and handing hers to Liam. As soon as they started talking about camp again, she leaned closer to me.
“So Ms. Gardner told me you picked up one of those election packets!” she said, smiling. “Are you running for student council next year?”
I blushed. “Um, I’m not sure yet. It looks really fun, though.”
“It is.” Brooke tapped her pen on her knee. “What position are you thinking about?”
“Well . . .”
She laughed. “President, huh?”
“Maybe, yeah,” I admitted.
“Awesome!” Beaming, Brooke started scribbling in my yearbook. “We’ll start a new French horn–section tradition.” She moved her hand, and I grinned when I saw what she’d written: HOLLY FOR PRESIDENT!
I had to admit, that looked pretty cool.
After promising her, Aaron, and Liam that I’d be at the first Ridgewood football game to see the half-time show, I headed to the front of the room and sat cross-legged next to Owen. He was drawing what was probably his tenth “Superhero Dante destroying robots” sketch in a yearbook—apparently, it was a pretty popular request.
I flipped through my own yearbook to read some of the notes, giggling when I noticed the word BEES! in giant letters, with Trevor’s tiny signature beneath it. Next to that, Gabby had added a funny sonnet about bees and candy—apparently, our Shakespeare trivia game in English had put her in a poetic mood. Julia and I had kept our tradition of writing each other ridiculous, lengthy notes in a huge spiral that took up most of a page. And Natasha had written a bunch of cheesy quotes from her favorite romance movies under her note to me, probably because I’d done the same thing in her yearbook, only with horror quotes.
Natasha finished signing Owen’s yearbook and handed it to me. “Julia has an idea,” she announced. “And you have to say yes.”
“Yes,” I joked, giving Owen my yearbook. I smiled when he flipped to a blank page in the back and started sketching.
Julia sat up straight and gave me a stern look. “First,” she said, ticking the points off on her fingers. “Natasha’s going to read that book I lent you. The scary one.”
“Really?” I glanced at Natasha, who nodded.
“Second . . .” Julia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I’ll do one—one—roller coaster with you guys this summer.”
“And we get to pick which one,” Natasha told me with a grin. My eyes widened.
“Wow! That’s—hang on.” I crossed my arms, looking suspiciously at them. “I’m guessing I have to do something, too?”
Julia smiled. “Yup. But yours is easy.”
“Super simple,” Natasha agreed. “All you have to do is come see the sequel to Seven Dates with us this summer.”
“Ugh, they made a sequel to that?” I cried as Owen let out a snort of laughter. “No. No way.”
“Come on, Holly!” Julia poked my arm. “You guys love roller coasters, so I’ll give them another shot. Natasha’s reading that book you and I like, even though it’s pretty creepy. So you can give romance movies another try, because we love them. Okay?”
“Okay, okay.” Groaning, I squeezed my eyes closed. “So what’s it called? No, let me guess . . . Seven Break-Ups. Or maybe Eight Dates. Seven Weddings? Or—”
“It’s called,” Julia interrupted in a haughty tone, “The Eighth Date.”
Owen ducked his head, still laughing, while I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God, seriously?”
Natasha smiled sweetly. “Seriously. So you’ll go with us, right?”
“Yeah.” Sighing, I glanced at Owen. “Want to come?”
He stopped laughing, eyes wide. “Nooooo . . . ,” he said without looking up from his sketch, which made Julia and Natasha giggle.
I opened Owen’s yearbook while they continued talking about the movie. I kept trying to sneak glances at what Owen was drawing—it was hard to see with his arm in the way, but it took up the whole page. I found a blank space in the back of his yearbook and pulled my knees into my chest so no one could read as I wrote. It wasn’t sappy or anything, mostly a bunch of inside jokes about Prophets and Cyborgs and science class . . . although I did add a giant heart next to my signature. I mean, it was pretty much the only thing I could draw that was actually recognizable.
“One minute left, you guys!” Julia exclaimed suddenly, pointing to the clock. Natasha let out a little cheer as she leaned over to get her yearbook from Sophie.
I set Owen’s yearbook next to him, watching his pen fly over the page. After a second, he glanced up and sighed. “I don’t think I’m going to finish before the bell.”
“That’s okay.” I leaned over to see what he’d drawn so far, but he snapped my yearbook closed.
“It’s a work in progress,” he told me, smiling. “Do you mind if I take it home?”
“Sure!” I said. “When can I get it back?”
“How about tomorrow? Thursday’s still Prophets day, right?” Owen’s eyes widened. “Hey, maybe the expansion pack will come in by then!” We’d used our science fair prize money to order it over the weekend. It made sense—after all, Prophets had been the whole inspiration behind our Alien Park project to begin with.
I grinned. “It’s a date.”
Picking up my backpack, I took Owen’s hand. After telling Mr. Dante to have a good summer, we joined Julia, Natasha, and the rest of the band at the door. Gabby started counting down the seconds until the bell, and soon everyone was shouting along with her, our voices getting louder and louder. Even though I was excited about summer vacation, I couldn’t help feeling a little sad that this year was over.
But, I told myself with a smile, next year would be even better.
About the Author
Michelle Schusterman is a former band director and forever band geek, starting back in the sixth grade when she first picked up a pair of drumsticks. Now she writes books, screenplays, and music in New York City, where she lives with her husband (and bandmate) and their chocolate Lab (who is more of a vocalist).
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