The Band

The room is filled with the banging of drums and the chatter of the excited orchestra group, but it’s nothing compared to the loud staccato beat of her heart that echoes in her head. The discomfort of it makes her skin crawl, and if you add in the churning of her stomach, it’s borderline painful. It’s pretty ironic and funny, although not really, how she refers to this as the song of her body, considering she’s a musician herself; the bass and melody of both composing a unique yet almost symbolic rhythm. The girl takes a slow and deep breath to ease the pressure in her chest, her hands holding onto her instrument tightly. Watching as her knuckles turn white, she tries to focus on the dig of the flute keys in her palms and she releases her breath when she realizes how sweaty they are and the slight bit of it she left on her poor instrument. She’s going to have to wash the smell of metal out of her hands after the performance. 

She’s performed countless times before, both in front of small audiences and big audiences, successfully and sometimes with mistakes, but it’s almost a habit to go through the soundtrack of her nerves. Although she performs many times; twice a year for school concerts, every friday for marching band during football games, and occasionally on sundays for competitions, it’s almost a ritual to feel this way before a performance. She snaps out of her thoughts and sees movement from the corner of her eyes, notices her fingers moving through one of the pieces to be played later on. It’s a slight comfort knowing how well she has every note memorized for each measure. She scoffs at that thought. 

This is the part of this strange cycle where she’s completely baffled. It’s been a solid 3 months since they’ve been handed the pieces for the concert and she’s been practicing everyday for several hours. She knows each of her parts by heart, can play it upside down, in a room full of loud drummers, and maybe on a roller coaster, although she would never put her instrument at risk like that. When she says she knows it, it’s because she knows it. At this point, the music has been imprinted on her heart and soul. She would hum it during the day like one would a pop song on the radio, that’s how deep she’s into it. But the anxiety in her head makes it seem as if they were given to her 5 minutes ago and she was being tossed onto the stage immediately. She gets a little nauseous thinking about such a situation, but clears it when she thinks about the hours spent in the practice rooms with the metronome playing from her phone. She’s got this. She’s got this. 

She looks around the band room and observes everyone else. There’s about 4 other flutes in the band and she feels a temporary calm wash over her in a wave of warmth. One flute is her age, while the other are underclassmen, but they’re all talented musicians that she can’t help but admire. Each with a different personality but they confidently play with their all, so even if she stumbles they’ll be there to play what she couldn’t, beautiful and loud, just like she’ll be there to do the same. She immediately catches her friend’s eyes who seems to be talking to someone from her section about the music, and the clarinet player seems to sense her inner turmoil because she immediately makes a silly face. Caught by surprise, she lets out a loud laugh and covers her mouth. She gives a cheeky wink and turns back to her conversation from before, leaving her in a lighter mood. 

She turns towards the door as it swings open and in comes a trumpet, calling for the band to head down to the side entrance of the auditorium. The light feeling from before recedes like a tide pulling back to the ocean, and when it pushes onto land, it turns into a bunch of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She sighs at the feeling but moves with the rest of the group crowding the door. She knows she’s dragging her feet when she’s immediately pulled into the side of her friend and the arm around her shoulder squeezes, comfortingly.

The short walk from the band room is quiet but not awkward. There’s something peaceful about the empty halls of lockers they pass, bright red and about 7 feet tall each, without the chaotic environment of loud teenagers from earlier in the day, although considering how loud the excited band members around her are, it might as well be the same thing. They turn a few corners and pass a few classrooms and she feels the atmosphere of the group shift, something electric and powerful sweeping through the group. That same exact feeling is suddenly coming from her friend next to her and she takes a small shaky breath. 

She hates every routine of anxiety, ever since the first one that started back in freshman year, to now, senior year, and she absolutely will hate the future ones too. However, nothing brings her as much relief as the energy being put out does. The sudden change in attitude is instant, the chatter from before is still there but the playfulness from before has been turned down and determination and confidence dialed up. It’s as if a flip has been switched from a high school band to a professional orchestra. She breathes in all of this, feels their power fill her lungs and stomach, the excitement of it forcing the corners of her lips up. It’s as if she’s been shot with a dose of adrenaline and suddenly her nerves are put on the backburner. Her friend pats her back and gives her a smile, again, as if she knows what just happened and she moves away. This time, as she takes a deep breath she feels it capture any lingering fear and with the release of it, she finds it all pouring out of her mouth and spirit. The pad of her fingers make a noise as they tap the keys of her instrument in a solo rendition of the first piece of the night and there’s a sudden rush of love and passion for the people around her, and her instrument. 

The start of the night was tough, definitely, and it won’t be the last time either. Maybe in the future, the pre-performance jitters will be reduced down to the small flapping of butterfly wings in her stomach and not a ritual of deep breaths and clenched fists, but thanks to her band members she’s ready to conquer tonight's performance. With a growing sense of confidence she walks onto the stage, takes a seat, and setting her music onto the stand she quickly sends a smile towards her friend. Taking a deep breath for the first note, she counts with the conductor, waits with bated breath, and the moment the baton goes up she plays with all her might.