“EARTH TO KEVIN. Did you hear what I said?”
The band director was looking right at me. So was everyone else.
“Yes, ma’am. Robin broke her arm so you want me to do the solo at the concert.”
“Right. You can choose what you want to play as long as it’s in our music. Just let me know what you’ll be playing by the end of the day tomorrow.”
Denying Ms. Reed was like denying an avalanche. “OK,” I said, trying to hide my despair.
I play the tenor sax, or as my mom says when bragging to her book club, the “jazz saxophone.” I’m the best player in the sax section of my middle school band; I even do concerts with the senior high band. But I’m good because I work my butt off. Sure, I like sports, basketball mostly. Tried a skateboard, never got very good. Sometimes I mess with video games. But I love playing my horn.
So, what’s my problem? Stage fright. Actually, stage petrification. Performing with a group is no problem. But playing solo? I freeze like a water balloon in deep space.
“Whew! Dude, that was close. I thought she was gonna pin it
