Bennett — Age 15
There was nothing like a Friday night football game.
The lights. The cheers of the crowd. The band playing.
The clash of helmets during a hard tackle.
And it was even better from the sidelines.
Being a sophomore on varsity, I knew I wouldn’t play much this season, but it hardly mattered. I was pumped to be a part of it all.
Early in the first quarter, Levi lobbed a pass to Keith, who ran it into the end zone for a touchdown.
Carson and I jumped in excitement, hooting and cheering with the rest of the team.
As the band started playing a lively song, the loud crashing of an instrument, repetitively out of sync, sent several of us glancing toward the stands.
There, at the back of the band, was Maven, two large cymbals in her hands.
As the song ended, I forced my attention to the field, watching with nervous anticipation as our kicker went for the extra point. Carson and I cheered when he made it with ease, and the band started playing again. And once again, the cymbals were noticeably off beat.
I took another peek at the stands. Why did Maven look entirely unaware of how terribly she was playing? I knew almost nothing about music, but even I could tell it sounded wrong.
“When did Maven start playing the cymbals?” I asked Carson.
“Only recently.” His gaze followed mine to his sister.
“She signed up for orchestra, but they cut the program and shoved all the orchestra kids into band. The cutoff to drop the class had passed, and since Mr. Rost was unwilling to make any sort of accommodation, she was forced to choose an instrument. She chose the cymbals.”
The song ended and Maven sat down, gathering looks from nearby audience members. She didn’t seem like she noticed or cared.
“Cymbals seem like they’d be easier to play than the violin,” I said.
Carson smiled. “Oh, she knows how to play the cymbals. But pretending she can’t is a lot more satisfying. It drives Mr. Rost absolutely crazy.”
Unable to help myself, I glanced back to the stands. Maven’s gaze met mine, and she lifted her cymbals and banged them together, causing more people to look toward her. I couldn’t fight my smile. That girl had more guts than anyone else I knew.