Page 6 of His Surrender
Whitney, another senior, raised her hand. “How about a contemporary piece? Like a medley of a bunch of pop songs or something?”
Other students nodded and got really excited at that idea.
Foster’s hand raised, stopping at his ear, as if he was too shy to put it any higher in the air.
“Yes, Mr. Foley?”
“We could do a video game medley,” he suggested, his cheeks reddening by the second, especially since all eyes were on him. “The songs are fun, but they can also be really pretty and complex too. There’s also Disney.”
“Excellent ideas,” I said, jotting down all of their suggestions. I’d been considering a Rodgers and Hammerstein theme, but I wanted them to enjoy it too. “I’ll think on it some more.”
Laura Chavez, the choir teacher, had approached me about doing a joint concert between the choir and band, which the kids would have a ton of fun with. That was a possibility as well.
I would’ve loved to travel to band competitions and take the students on field trips to see other bands perform, but the school gave little to no funding for music. All of the money went to sports. So, I tried to make the class enjoyable and do things the kids would enjoy like an end-of-the-year concert where they got to play the music they wanted.
“That’s it for today,” I said right before the bell rang. It was the last class of the day, and some of them looked to be dragging. They’d perk back up once escaping the school walls though. “Have a great weekend.”
Foster put the bass clarinet in the case and placed it in the adjoining room where we kept the school-owned instruments—there weren’t many—and music stands. When he walked back into the band room, he gave an awkward wave.
“Bye, Mr. Barnett.” He went toward the door.
“Foster?”
He turned around, his eyes going wide. “Y-yes, sir?”
He was probably the shyest, most introverted kid I’d ever met.
“You’re doing great,” I said. “I know it can be intimidating at first, but have some confidence when you play. Mistakes happen. It’s all part of the learning process.”
“Thanks.” He glanced at his shoes and pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “When I can afford my own, I’ll be able to practice a lot more. I know I bring my section down.”
The school currently had a policy where the students weren’t allowed to take the instruments home—thanks to an incident the previous year when a student got mad and smashed one of them. Now, they could only use them during school hours, during performances, or in the presence of a teacher. I hated it, especially for situations like this.
How was a student supposed to learn if they couldn’t practice at home?
“Well, until then, if you ever want to practice after school, just let me know and I’ll stay after with you.”
“Really? Cool.” He smiled. “See you Monday!” As he started to walk away, he pulled his phone from his backpack and put it at his ear. “Hey, Uncle Jay. Oh. You’re picking me up? Where’s Dad? Okay, I’ll be out in a few.”
Jay.
I’d never spoken to Foster’s uncle, but I’d seen him around a few times on school grounds, as well as at the cigar bar on nights I performed. He sometimes came alone and sat at the back of the room, smoking a cigar and drinking. Other times, he came with a dark-haired guy. But every time, I caught him watching me.
And I’d be damned if I didn’t like the attention.
However, that was a line I wasn’t sure I wanted to cross. Even if hewasinto me, did I really want to get involved with the uncle of one of my students?
Definitely not.
After I left the band room and locked the door behind me, I walked to the teacher’s parking lot on the other side of the building. In just three days, the weather had gone from a biting chill in the air to low sixties. I was sure it’d go back to cold in another few days, but I’d enjoy the nice weather while it lasted.
“Hey, Johnny,” I answered after fishing my ringing cell out of my jacket pocket. “Still need me for the gig tonight?”
“Yeah, kid,” he said in a throaty voice derived from all his years of heavy smoking. “If you don’t mind. Big Mike’s not feelin’ up to it. His health isn’t what it used to be.”
“I’ll be there.”
Johnny was family to me even though we weren’t blood related. He’d been a close friend of my mom, and when she passed, he’d been there for me. Because god knows my own dad hadn’t given a damn. He’d locked himself away in his study and pretty much left me to fend for myself.
