The Pros of Cons by Alison Cherry

Author:Alison Cherry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2018-05-06T04:00:00+00:00

My sore-as-hell Hufflepuff hands weren’t enough to get me out of the mallet technique workshop before dinner.

“It’ll still be educational,” Mackey told me, holding the door open. “Even if you can’t play. And hey, you remember Giovanne Clark?”

“Who?” I’d just noticed Scott and the other guys heading down the hall, and I edged to the side so that the door hid me from their view.

“Sound engineer, record producer? Those jazz fusion CDs I loaned you last semester when you had all those questions about analog versus digital recording, she was the—”

“Oh, right!” I nodded, pressing myself against the wall. “Yeah, I remember.” I heard Scott’s voice getting louder, and I held my breath.

“She’s here, recording the showcase concert tonight. I might be able to introduce you—she’d have better answers to your questions than I did, for sure.”

Through the gap between the door and the doorjamb, I saw the guys enter the room. None of them noticed me hiding like a complete wuss.

I exhaled loudly. “That’d be so cool! Thanks!”

“Sure thing.”

“But, um …” I fidgeted nervously. “Is there anything else going on right now that I could maybe check out instead of this marimba clinic?”

Mackey squinted at me. “I already said you don’t have to play. Is something going on, Phoebe?”

“What?”

“Are your hands getting worse? I thought Mrs. Hwang was—”

“No, my hands are fine, I swear,” I said quickly. “I’m just … tired.”

He rolled his eyes. “You should try sleeping.”

“Yeah, that’s why I—”

“At night.” Mackey gestured for me to enter the room. “Props for asking if you can skip a class to take a nap, though. That’s a new level of guts even for you.”

I forced a laugh. “Yeah, well. I tried.”

Keeping my eyes fixed to the floor, I walked inside, headed straight to the back row, and slid into the chair on the end. The room was maybe three-quarters full, and Christina was already standing behind the marimba, which almost made me smile. She would be the first to volunteer. To my relief, Scott and everyone else were on the other side of the room. Everyone except …

“Hey.”

I jumped as Brian squeezed past me and sat down. “Oh. Hey.”

“He’s one of the judges for the timpani solos tomorrow,” Brian whispered, jiggling his leg nervously. At the front of the room, I saw a man with a shock of white hair and a paunch now talking to Christina. “Richard Rogan, Oberlin Conservatory of Music. I heard he’s pretty tough.”

“Ah.”

Richard Rogan chose that moment to start the workshop, saving me from further conversation. After introducing himself, he asked Christina to play a chorale so he could critique her technique. I leaned back in my chair and watched her with a weird mix of pride and envy. I’d participated in a bunch of IPAC clinics in the last two years, and they’d all been amazing. I’d played surdo in a Brazilian band led by a samba master, kempul gongs with an incredible gamelan ensemble from Bali, and chekeré in an Afro Cuban music workshop.

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