Page 24 of Checking All Her Notes
And then it’s time.
The kids file out first, taking their positions. Emma on xylophone. Rusty on drums. The twins on bells. Sarah on woodblock, looking very serious about her role.
The Bobcats players follow, looking far less confident. Each one with a bell or a hand drum.
No Jude. No triangle.
My heart sinks but I force a smile. The show must go on.
I count them in. “One, two, three, four.”
They start playing. It’s not perfect. Emma rushes the first measure. Rusty hits too hard on the third beat. One of the twins drops a bell and it rolls across the stage.
But the crowd loves it. They’re clapping along, parents recording on their phones, smiles everywhere.
We’re halfway through the second verse when I hear it.
A single, perfect ding.
Clear and bright and exactly on beat four.
I freeze.
The crowd erupts in laughter and cheers.
I turn slowly, not quite believing what I’m hearing.
And there he is standing at the back of the stage in jeans and a Bobcats tee shirt, holding that ridiculous triangle with the most self-satisfied smirk I’ve ever seen on his face.
He walks forward with that controlled defenseman stride. Calm. Deliberate. It’s almost like he planned this entrance down to the second.
He takes his spot among the kids, who are staring at him with wide eyes and huge grins.
“Blockton showed up!” Rusty stage-whispers.
“Shh,” I hiss, but I’m fighting back a smile.
Jude hits the triangle again. Perfectly on beat. And again. And again.
The audience is howling with laughter and applause. Someone whistles. I’m pretty sure it’s my dad.
We finish the song. The final notes hang in the air for a moment before the crowd explodes with applause.
The kids take their bows. The players follow. Jude stands there looking mildly uncomfortable with the attention but staying put.
When the applause finally dies down, Jude walks over to the MC and takes the microphone.
Oh no.
“Sorry for crashing the program,” he says, his voice carrying through the sound system. He glances at me. “But I figured I owed Miss Kessler a duet.”
The crowd loses it. Laughing and clapping and probably taking a thousand pictures.
I want to disappear. Want to melt into the stage floor.
But I can’t look away from him.
“I’ve been thinking a lot the past few days,” Jude continues, his voice steadier now. “About what it means to be part of a team. About not wanting to mess things up.”
