A Study in Chords

By LizzyKai, copyright 2007.

Lesson 1: A Study in Band

My head felt like it was going to explode. The entire room was filled with such cacophony that I felt like I would never be able to concentrate on another word again. And that would truly suck, because that’s all that mattered to me. I turned over the hard, cold, implement in my lap. Hard to believe something so delicate could add to the discord around me.

“Let’s play some scales!” Mr. Harmon screamed over the noise. I picked up my frigid instrument and brought it to my lips. How did this make a sound again? I couldn’t honestly remember. I wouldn’t even be in this class if it weren’t for my lack of art credits. I needed something fast to graduate and, sadly, this would do.

Taking in a deep breath, I blew. It made a sound! That was a pretty big accomplishment, having last played when I was in, let’s see… eighth grade? As the years went on I’d pull it out less and less frequently until it became a lost treasure hidden in a black case, covered in an undisturbed layer of dust.

“Samirah!” He called and I suddenly snapped back, with a start, into reality. “Could you please tell the class what the relative minor of a B flat scale is?” Despite this menacing question, which inflicted so much drama, half the class wasn’t even paying attention to him.

“Uhhh… A flat?” Mr. Harmon simply sighed with frustration and explained to me how I could figure out any musical minor scale. I stared at him blankly as he took five minutes to explain it to me, or anyone else who cared to listen. Which was no one. The words were so foreign that I could have sworn he was speaking a different language. What were half-steps? And how were they different than whole-steps? And what was with all this talk of degrees? I thought I was in a music class, not science or math.

After struggling to sight-read some music, the bell finally rang and we were dismissed from class. Most of the students already had their instruments in their cases and sprinted out the door while the more dedicated musicians stayed longer to clean them and take proper care of them. Mr. Harmon said he wanted to talk to me privately after class.

“What’s up?” I asked a little too nonchalantly.

“Have you ever taken a music course in your life?” He challenged.

I was taken aback my the frankness of his question and stuttered, “ Y-yes, I have. It was a while ago, but I’m sure with a little time I’ll get it all back.”

“We don’t have a little time.” He said, pulling down a piece of paper and shoving it into my arms. “That’s our concert schedule. We play in three weeks, and you need to be at the same level as the rest of the band by then.” I had to conceal a smile when I thought of the present state of the band. Oh yes, I was definitely the one holding us back.

“What do you suggest?” I inquired calmly. I couldn’t drop the course because I needed the credits, but I knew that the possibility of failing because I wasn’t up to the standards was all too close to being true.

“A tutor, to help you learn the ropes. A teacher, if you will, so that you can take lessons.” I was about to protest, when he added, “If you take them twice a week, and show extra enthusiasm by having lessons on weekends, I might be compelled to give you an automatic ‘A,’ even if you’re not quite up to the same level.”

I eagerly agreed to this, and he motioned towards a guy my age sitting in the front row. He was my age, but didn’t seem to notice me studying him as he was busily taking care of his instrument. His sandy hair was thick and slightly haphazard, but still look kept. He wore glasses over his green eyes that refused to meet mine. I couldn’t help but gulp at the sight of him. Was this my teacher?

“His name is Lyre, and he’s the principle flute player.” I nodded as if I understood, but Mr. H saw right through me. “That means he’s number one, the best of the best. Lyre!”

The boy turned and met my eyes for a second, shifting them over to meet Mr. Harmon, as he responded, “Yes?”

“I need you to give this young lady lessons. She needs them.” I couldn’t help but look a little offended as he continued, “Will you tutor her on flute?”

“Does it pay?” His deep green eyes turned and searched over me. He looked unimpressed by my appearance. I tried to hide my concern, because I knew I was flat broke.

“I’ll find someway to repay you, if the lessons are worth it, that is.” Lyre raised an eyebrow, looking a little impressed to hear me respond like that to him. He nodded, and clicked the clasps shut on his dark case.

We placed our instruments into their wooden lockers and exited outside. I tried to introduce myself, but Lyre seemed uninterested.

“Look, we both know that your lessons will last a week, at most, and then you’ll quit. They all quit.” He walked past me, not waiting for my response.

“How do you know I’m not different?”

He laughed a bit under his breath, and replied, “I’ve yet to meet a girl like you who cares enough to try. You’re all the same.”

I couldn’t believe his words. How long had he known me? Five seconds? That was it, everything was settled. Whatever happens, I would prove him wrong.