dreary daydreams

eight; whispered woes

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BEFORE
March 11, 2015

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Clementine sat back in her chair throughout her eleven measures of rest and listened in agony to the brass across the room, who were shrieking her personal favorite melodic line of any song they have yet to play this year.

It wasn't as if their band was bad, they were anything but; ranked 7th in the nation according to the National Band Association. Today, however, the honks, toots, shrieks, and shrills only made her head ache with discomfort.

Her finger taps lightly on the body of her bassoon along to every beat in which was conducted, but her heart leapt in her throat as she looks further ahead into the music. More importantly, to her solo.

With her solo quickly approaching, she positioned herself around the carved wood in her hands and took in all of the breath she could to play when her time had come. But with her racing thoughts on everything but the music before her, the solo had sounded discouragingly sharp through the bell of her bassoon.

Clementine flinched whenever she finished, and met the band directors inquisitive stare with flushed cheeks. With dread filling the pits of her stomach, she watched as he raised the palm of his hand and held the band's attention, every instrument settling into rest position as the sounds across the room died.

"You are awfully out of tune today, Clementine."

A dead silence followed.

"Sorry." She stammered, quickly readjusting the position of her reed with flushed cheeks.

He spoke no further, but took notice of her actions and offered a curt nod. Mr. Treese returned to facing his symphony, and with a quick, sharp withdrawal of breath he resumed his conduction of Of Sailors & Whales- the band's opening piece for their upcoming spring concert.

Clementine laid back in her chair; knowing that the rehearsal would be focusing on sections further ahead in the music, where the bassoon would barely be heard above others, anyway.

So, she grasped the length of her bassoon with one hand and picked nervously at the threading on the pocket of her jeans with the other, avoiding the task of playing her instrument altogether.

Clementine cast her eyes to the silver key her thumb was unconsciously circling, and gazed into a blurred reflection. Except, the eyes she looked into were brown. Not glacier blue. Brown. Not angry and confused and greatly worried, as she had remembered them to be and feel the night they looked unto her in February, looking as if their entire world had fallen at their feet.

However, according to word from several of Ted's friends, his world did indeed come to a stop after hearing news of his mother's stroke that very same night.

A pang of despair struck her heart and she sympathized alongside him, though in a different way. Clementine's mother, Meredith, is a breast cancer survivor.

Before long, the bell to signify the end of eighth period rung and the band's rehearsal came to a close, with Mr. Treese wrapping it up in a many words.

When he had finished his lengthy reminder of the importance of practicing, Clementine gathered her things, a pencil, her tuner, folder of music, and bassoon. She began to walk to her locker where her empty case was held, but she couldn't walk very far, for Mr. Treese placed a hand on her shoulder and stopped her in her very tracks.