Author's Note

Hope you like this intermission chapter I had cooked up. Been waiting to do this one for some time, and I think I nailed it.

Btw, I'm revisiting the first 7 chapters to retool and revise them. Now that I see it, I don't like the tone it set for the entire book. It'll be slight, minor changes that won't affect the "story," per say.

Once those chapters are revised, marked by a "revised" tag next to the chapter name, we'll continue on to chapter 26. See y'all soon!

-Harpy

Intermission I - "Mr. Walkerson?"

Chapter 25: Intermission I - “Mr. Walkerson?”

“I’m sorry to cut you off, Mr. Alex. But…do you have any recollections or fond memories of your time as a teacher?”

chuckle “Of course. How could I not?”

“Do you mind sharing one with me?”

Approximately 4 years prior

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“Okay, class. Please take out your sheet music for the ‘Toccata’ march.” I sat atop the stool at the podium as the performance band ensemble began to ready themselves for class practice time.

We had completed all of our warm-ups for the period in less than 10 minutes, so now was the time to play. I decided to start us off by continuing to improve ourselves as an ensemble with Frank Erickson’s novel song ‘Toccata For Band.’

click-click! I clicked the baton against the conductor’s stand before me, and the students began making their final adjustments. Some of them continued to prepare their sheet music while others were situating the music stands before them. I smiled as my eyes closed, taking a deep breath and exhaling silently.

Then, I looked up at the percussion section and lowered my baton, seeing as they weren’t quite prepared. The eight percussionists were moving their equipment, setting themselves up, and chattering with each other. Again, I looked at them with anticipation, their eyes slowly meeting mine as I raised my baton.

“Join us when you’re ready, percussion,” I announced, directing my attention back to the band. Mostly all of the students had brought their instruments up, waiting for my cue. I readied myself and began the conducting pattern.

“1, 2, 3, and….”

The band began to perform the start of ‘Toccata,’ their musicianship having improved since our last meeting. The march-like feel of the beginning portion was staccato, which I marked with a pencil. My baton became more strict and precise in movement, consistently placing the downbeats where need be while remaining stiff and energetic.

As my right hand continued to conduct the ensemble, my left hand helped emphasize the accentuated rhythms and passages. Normally, I adjusted my hands to stop the trembling, and the left hand helped show the dynamic contrast we needed. As I flipped the page over, we flew through the first portion of the music, with the percussion section fully joining mid-way through.

Their rhythmic accuracy is on point today, I admired internally. I have to congratulate them on that later. Looking at the band, I reminisced on these past couple of years I spent teaching them.

They were a fantastic group of young student musicians to work with, which is what I liked hearing about when I secured the job. To think this group would be together for a good three more years was incredibly astonishing. Almost 42% of the group comprised sophomores with years of wind ensemble experience; another 35% were freshman-year students. Only a few freshmen were new to the band setting, but the rest were gifted with incredible talent.

Unlike the younger high school demographic, the juniors and seniors both made up 23% of the entire ensemble. However, I still admired their relentless deliverance and perseverance, being great role models for their fellow peers. They consistently came in prepared and on time to class, playing through the music at a high level while also having time to assist the younger musicians.

Change, Alex, my mind told me. I looked down and saw we had reached the legato section of the piece. As I slowed the tempo down significantly, the woodwinds blended their sound into each other, creating an excellent tone and musical effect.

I smiled as the clarinets led the second half of the middle portion, their sound nearly in unison but loud. I let my left hand dictate the dynamic swells, to which the ensemble followed fantasti-

squeak!

An oboe, I happily thought. Out of the corner of my eye, the oboe player quietly shied away as she looked at her reed with concern. I nodded toward her and reassured her to re-enter when ready. The sophomore instrumentalist sighed and nodded, wetting her reed and taking a deep breath before resuming the following phrase.

This allowed me to return my attention to the entire ensemble. Getting to the end of the legato section, I thought. Remember, stay quiet and build up the suspense. As we transitioned from the legato section, the bassoon’s sound punched through the clarinet section. I raised my left hand to my stomach and looked at the two bassoon players, silently warning them to lower their volume. They looked back at the music, and their sound got quieter.

As the horns entered, the band continued picking up speed, returning to the original ’a tempo’ from before. I flipped the score to the next page, nodding at the written-in star above the measure marker. This is where we got tripped up last time, I recounted.

As they approached the marching staccato section, I exaggerated my baton again and reiterated the staccato-like feel we needed. The students watched occasionally, continuing to peer at the music before them.

Each time they took in a breath, some others did as well, which led to some small entrances being missed by a sixteenth note or two. Having noticed this, I felt the need to address this now and not have this habit be developed. So I stopped conducting and put my baton down, motioning for the group to stop playing the piece.

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“Stop, stop, okay then. Percussion?” I inquired, looking at the section in the back with a raised brow. “We stopped two measures ago. You’re good. The drums still work, thank you.” I chuckled and gave them a grin, earning a few nods from them. Some students began conversing with each other as I lowered my head to look at the music clearer.

“Class, what did we discuss on Monday regarding that section after measure 144?” I asked, looking up. Some students looked at their music, while others readied their pencils to mark it again. Finally, I sighed and said to them, “Stagger your breathing.”

Cue the collective oh’s and aah’s coming from the group, which made me smile warmly. “There were a couple of 2-bar passages where we were missing a few of the notes because we needed to breathe, and that’s fine,” I reassured. “Take a breath when you need to, but you have to make sure that if you DO need to breathe, when should you not do it?”

A junior trumpet player raised their hand, to which I pointed at them and said, “Yes, Samantha?”

“Before beat 1?”

“That’s true…and?” The class fell silent, their puzzled expressions saying it all. “During a phrase, class. Can anyone tell me why we try not to breathe during a phrase?”

Another student put their hand up, a freshman flutist by the name of McKensey. “It can cut a part of the music out?”

“Bingo!” I exclaimed. “We breathe collectively at the ends of phrases, starting the next passage together. If we suddenly breathe simultaneously during a particular phrase that needs to be elongated, then there’s this gaping hole left in the music.” Some students put their pencils on their stands, and others jotted down the information while I continued to teach.

“Let’s say, and I am not calling anyone out…trumpets,” I looked up at the second to last row. “Starting at measure 144, what do you have?” One called out a note name, and I shook my head. “Great answer, but not what I am looking for.”

I stood there and wondered if they would be able to tell me the answer. “Come on guys…the melody, trumpets. You have the melody. You guys are the single most important voice during this phrase.”

The band nodded their heads as I continued. “You start the section off with the melody. After that, the horns continue that melody, taking it over while you go on. Then who else?” I motioned, a couple of the saxophones raising their hands in response. “That’s right! The saxophones get to play the melody too. It continuously moves around the ensemble.”

sigh I picked my hands up and drew a continuous line with them in the air. “That’s what the music should look like, starting at measure 144: one line. The melody changes instrumentation,” I described, “but we can’t cut it. So before your part comes in, you not only should be counting your rests, but you should regain control of your breathing. The composer, Mr. Erickson, made this piece over 5 minutes long. You will be tired at the end of it.”

The students nodded as they looked at me. “This is also the first piece of our concert. This sets the tone for the entire night,” I ensured. “Just like with marching band, our first musical selection set the tone, and that’s why you guys have been doing awesome this season. You set the tone!”

My emphasis and recall of the season made some students smile firmly, knowing what needed to be done. “Start right there, right at measure 144. Remember, guys, one continuous line of music is what we need. Try to stagger your breathing…if you hear your neighbor breathe, you know it’s okay to breathe after them. Okay, are we ready?”

I motioned the band to bring their instruments back up, and the students readied themselves to play. Once I ensured they were set…

“1, 2, ready, go!”

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“Yeaaahaa! That’s what we’re talking about. Nice work, band!” I celebrated the student’s achievement as they had cleaned up their mistakes. Opting to not stop at the end of the section we were working through, we finished the song and ended spectacularly.

“We finished the whole song and addressed what: staggered breathing and you guys nailed it. Nice work!” I reiterated. “Clarinets, watch that section after the marching portion towards the end there. You have to embrace the same feeling we performed with during that legato section earlier, right?”

A few of the clarinets nodded their heads in approval. “Yeah, so just make sure you continue that trend. It’s like a call-back, yeah?” I inquired. “This clarinet part is the most important voice because the audience has already heard it. So when we call back to it before the ending, we are setting this piece’s finale up to end on a great note.”

“What’s that…that meme y’all have been sharin-”

groan!! “Noooo.” A collective wave of disapproval splashed back at me, my body eliciting a few laughs as I looked at our concert selections.

“Speaking of a great note to end on, the awesome tone from all of you,” I applauded. “That final note was in-tune, and everyone blended well. What did you remember to do from last time?” One of the tubas raised their hand. “Yes, Jamychal?”

“Make sure you aren’t louder than your neighbor,” the sophomore tuba player replied. I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Exactly. Make sure you can hear your neighbor on BOTH sides of you,” I taught. “If you can’t hear them, either you are too loud, or your neighbor is too soft.” The group looked at me with varied facial expressions, my sides collapsing as I sighed.

“They both mean the same thing, guys. Either play up to the volume written in your music where you can still hear your neighbor, or dial it back a smidge so you CAN hear them,” I reworded. Most of the students nodded, their eyes returning to their music stands.

“Great. So let's take out the next selection, which iiisss…” I hesitated, my mind deciding which band piece to bring out next. “Do we all have ‘Fate Of The Gods’ with us today?”

Some of the students in the middle section of the band all nodded, with some others joining in late. “Awesome. Take out that song, please? We shall start at measure 52 then, okay?” I chuckled to myself as a joke came to mind.

“I’ll leave my fate up to the Gods when this song is done, hah….” Some students heard me and attempted to stifle their laughs. I shook my head and exhaled. “They know we need it right now, considering this world’s problems….”

Some of the students continued to laugh as I cleared my throat. Then, attempting to get the group’s attention, I noticed a student raising their hand. Pointing at them with the baton, I asked, “Yes, Roland, you have a question?”

“Are we taking it at tempo, Mr. Walkerson?” the senior saxophone section leader asked. I tilted my head and grinned.

“Would you like to take it at tempo, Mr. Jason?” I replied, some of the students in the band shaking their heads immediately. The saxophonist nodded his head, implying he had practiced.

“Well, that tells me at least you have been practicing,” I responded. Then, turning to the keyboard beside me, I clicked the switch for the metronome and turned on the amp. “Let’s see…tempo iiisss…here!”

A rapid succession of clicks sounded out of the speaker. Most of the students’ eyes in the band suddenly widened in surprise as the 152-beat tempo marking was fast.

“Percussion, you ready?” I announced to the group. The percussionists shook their heads as some of them frantically tried to get themselves set up. “My snare drum player? That’s you, William. This is the tempo. Stay with it.” I pointed at the keyboard and nodded at him.

William started laughing to himself nervously as I raised my baton up. Looking at him, I nodded and internalized the beats clicking away. “Do your best, guys,” I said to the group.

The students brought their instruments up as they shook their heads in surprise and worry. Winking at them, I smiled and bobbed my head to the beat.

“1, 2? 1 2 3 GO!!”

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The present

“Sooo, how did that turn out?”

“It was okay,” I said. “The kids got a kick out of it, and I had fun with it. WE had fun with it.” I smiled as the happy memory concluded. “Needless to say, we did our jobs and played it at that tempo for the concert and got a lot of compliments for how they did.”

“Impressive. I am absolutely in awe that you guys are in sync that much.”

“Yeah,” I exhaled softly. “Wish it was like that more recently….” My head dropped as I looked at the floor below me.

“With the high school, oorr…?”

“What we’ve been talking about this entire time,” I sarcastically said. “The adventure I’ve been through.”

“Well, if these recent events are true, then I’m sorry for prodding into it so much.”

“You’re good, man,” I replied, my chest expanding and releasing a prolonged exhale. “You can’t be perfect everywhere you go. And if they only listened and treated me as an equal…actually, they used to….” I pointed that statement out, sitting upright.

“Those guys, ‘The Crown’ as they are called? They treated me like I was ‘on their level’ at one point,” I explained before dropping my hands onto my lap. “And then…it just stopped. After that fight?..it was gone….”

I sagged my shoulders as I stared at the bench. “And I just don’t know why. I don’t know how to fix it,” I confessed, looking into the vast space. “I want to…I-I would like to…b-but, I’m scared….”

“You shouldn’t be afraid. I mean, you got this far….”

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Dead……….” We sat there for what felt like minutes before I calmly whispered, “I…I j-just wanna go home….”

sigh “Well, that’s up to the big guy to decide for you. In the meantime, don’t stress it. I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon since I don’t know when or if I will get a second chance.”

I nodded in contempt. My lips pursed as a quick thought came to my head. What if I could leave? I internalized. Can I bargain for my life to be restored back to normal?

“Thanks for telling me this. It’s fun to listen to and hear other people’s stories. I was curious, that’s all. Now then, about that cave you were in….”

chuckle “Heh…you have no idea what happened during that stay inside the mountains.” sigh “Alright. I guess I’ll continue the tale.”