Page 23 of Checking All Her Notes
I lived and worked in New York City. I survived subway saxophonists who played the same three notes for entire commutes. I once taught a six-year-old who bit me mid-’Mary Had a Little Lamb’ because he thought it was too peppy.
This? This is fine. It’s nothing like New York. And I’m okay.
I’m arranging chairs in neat rows, setting up music stands, checking instrument positions for the hundredth time. The Music & Sticks fundraiser starts in an hour and everything needs to be perfect. The kids have been practicing. The Bobcats players have been practicing. Well, most of them.
One very important player hasn’t shown up to practice in three days.
I check my phone again. Nothing.
No texts beyond that one message the night of the auction.It’s just an auction date. Don’t worry about it.
Like I could stop worrying. Like my brain isn’t a loop of worst-case scenarios and hurt feelings.
“Stop checking,” I mutter to myself. “He’s made his choice.”
Parents are starting to arrive, claiming the best seats. Dad’s setting up the donation table near the entrance, chatting with anyone who’ll listen about the new youth rink equipment they’re raising money for.
Emma runs past me, blue dress flying. “Miss Kessler! I’m so nervous!”
“You’ll be amazing,” I tell her, adjusting her music stand.
Rusty’s practicing his drum hits in the corner. Too loud, as always. Lily and Kayla are comparing their matching dresses, which their mother somehow color-coded even for the performance. Sarah’s bossing around the other kids like a tiny stage manager.
Everything is chaos. Beautiful, musical chaos.
Except for the Jude-shaped hole in the middle of it.
Finn arrives with the other players, all dressed in matching Bobcats polo shirts. They look nervous and proud and slightly ridiculous holding their assigned instruments.
“He’s not coming, is he?” I ask Finn quietly.
Finn shifts his weight, uncomfortable. “I don’t know, Sophie. He’s been in his own head since the auction.”
“Did something happen?”
“He won’t talk about it. Just keeps saying he doesn’t want to mess things up for the team.” Finn shrugs. “Whatever that means.”
My chest tightens. Because I know exactly what it means.
Coach’s daughter. Team dynamics. Favoritism.
All the things Jude’s afraid of becoming.
“But Blockton’s full of surprises,” Finn adds. “Don’t count him out yet.”
I want to believe him. Want to hold onto that hope.
But as the seats fill up and showtime approaches, I have to accept reality.
Jude’s not coming.
I clap my hands, gathering the kids and players together for a final pep talk. “Okay, everyone. This is it. Remember what we practiced. Listen to each other. Stay on beat. And most importantly, have fun.”
“What if we mess up?” Emma asks, eyes wide.
“Then we mess up together,” I tell her. “That’s what makes it beautiful.”
The lights dim. The crowd settles. Dad introduces the program with his coach voice, thanking everyone for coming and supporting the youth rink fund.
