Because of A Trombone

March 6, 2011
Being the new girl is awful! Life in Michigan was promised to be so much better than before; yeah, right. “Oh, Nina, look how quaint and quiet it is here!” Mama always tells me. I disagree. Big-time.

We moved to Michigan because my dad got transferred here from the suburbs of New York. Don’t ask me why we had to move to Michigan when there was a whole jumble of jobs in the Big Apple not so far from home. All I know is that my dad is extremely attached to his job and didn’t want to leave the company. So, here I am, beginning my life over again.
First day of school: what the movies said were 100% true. Being the new girl is absolutely awful. I walked through the halls this morning amidst the cries of friends seeing each other again: “Oh my god!” “You’re back!” “Great to see you!” “You’re so tan!” The last one came from a bunch of stuck-up looking girls. I made sure not to pay any attention to them. I kept my head down, books clutched close to my chest, quietly walking down the hallway.
Wham! I walked into the library door as it was opening outward. I fell to the floor, books scattering everywhere. My brand-new binders involuntarily slipped from my grasp, and I felt my face flushing as I started to get up, trying to ignore those girls laughing at my expense.
“You okay?” I heard a voice from above; granted, I was still on the floor. I turned my head and saw the kind face of a girl looking down on me.
“Nope, thanks for asking though,” I retorted. I laughed after to show that I was joking around.
“I’m so sorry. I was in a hurry to get to first period ‘cause it’s the first day of school and everything...” she rambled on while I studied her. Long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a few stray locks falling around her face gently. She wore a graphic T-shirt and a pair of jeans with equally worn-out skate shoes. Grasped in her hand was a case of some sort.

“It’s fine, really. Just a little disoriented if anything. Just curious, what’s in the case?”

“”This? My clarinet,” she responded easily. “I’m in band.”

“You’re in band?” I asked incredulously. Everyone back home who was in the band didn’t seem anything like this girl; I had pictured her as a jock.

“Yep. It’s actually a lot of fun, contrary to most people’s beliefs. Especially jazz band.”

“Jazz band?” I questioned. I had thought that band people only played that boring classical

stuff in school, not cool music like that.

“Uh huh. It’s so awesome. I took up the saxophone in addition to the clarinet for that reason alone.”

I nodded my head, interest peaked. “Any way I could get in on the awesomeness?” I smiled eagerly.

“Sit with me and the rest of my band friends at lunch, and we’ll tell you all about it. Sound good?”

“Cool, I will definitely be there... wait, what lunch period do you have?”

“6th. You?”

“6th.” I breathed a sigh of relief; now I knew that I wouldn’t be sitting alone that day.

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