Principal Moser, a short woman with huge glasses, got up onstage and stood in front of the closed curtain. She issued warnings about the consequences of disruptive behavior, smiling in spite of her stern tone. She said she wouldn’t be averse to issuing Christmas Day detentions, which made a few people laugh. “That’s no idle threat,” she added. “Right, Corey?”
Corey Thompson sat in the front row of chairs, flanked by a teacher on each side. He was smiling like a child who had been caught stealing candy. It struck Siddharth that the world was more fond of troublemakers than the kids who actually did what they were told.
When the curtain rose, the parents in attendance approached the stage to snap pictures. Siddharth spotted Sharon to the right, with all the other horn players. The entire band was wearing black pants and white shirts, except for Sharon, who was wearing a black turtleneck. She sat beside Kenny Hong, a Korean kid with golden glasses and spiked hair. Kenny seemed to be having a problem with his trombone, so he handed it to Sharon, who made some quick adjustments and then handed it back. He gave her a thumbs-up, and she nodded her head and cracked her knuckles.
As the band went through a series of screechy classical pieces, Siddharth’s mind wandered. He thought about how Arjun would have laughed at the idea of their mother communicating with them through a bird. He thought about how most of the other kids would soon be away with their families. Marc was flying to Florida, and Luca would be driving to Maryland. Even Sharon was spending Christmas with her father. All he had to look forward to were ten nonstop days of the Mohan Lal and Ms. Farber show.
Suddenly, the entire audience began clapping. Onstage, there was a huge commotion. Most of the band members cleared out, with just a few kids remaining. They brought out a full drum set, then wheeled out a wooden piano. Mr. Donahue, the ninth grade biology teacher, leaped onto the stage. He grabbed a microphone and told everyone to settle down. “People, you’re in for a real treat,” he said. He had a crew cut, and his thick eyebrows seemed as if they’d been drawn with permanent marker. “I and some talented musicians — all of whom are significantly more talented than myself — have formed a little jazz quartet. We call ourselves the Cotton Gins.” He put the microphone back, then brought an enormous guitar-like instrument over to the piano, where the eighth grade social studies teacher was sifting through some sheet music. A ninth grader named Keith Liaci seated himself at the drums.
“That’s my cousin,” said David Marcus. “Go, Keith!” He whistled. “Rock out!”
Siddharth stared at the drummer, who had a butterfly collar and large silver glasses, the kind that were tinted. Keith looked more like someone who had gone to junior high in Arjun’s day. From the bleachers, someone shouted, “I love nerds!”
He wondered if it had been Luca, but he could no longer see him. Turning back to the stage, he was surprised to see Sharon walking on with her trumpet. He hoped Luca wouldn’t say anything — not today. Not when she was about to do her thing.
Mr. Donahue introduced the members of the band, then said, “We’re going to play a song of Ms. Nagorski’s choosing. It’s a song of great beauty, of great importance. Unfortunately, it’s a song that most of you have never heard.” He slipped the mic back into its holster, and a few people clapped, mainly parents and teachers.
David kept whistling, which made Siddharth uncomfortable. He wondered why David wasn’t embarrassed about Keith. He wondered if he should be cheering for Sharon too.
Mr. Donahue snapped his fingers and counted to four in a firm whisper. He then started plucking the strings of his large instrument, which stood vertically, like a dance partner or a high-rise building. It emitted one of the deepest sounds Siddharth had ever heard.
After a few beats, the piano chimed in with two solid chords, and the pair went back and forth like this for a couple of minutes, as if they were having a conversation. When the drums kicked in, Siddharth started tapping his suede shoes against the shiny wooden floor. Keith held brush-like batons in his hands, not actual sticks. His shoulders bounced while he played, as if he were dancing in his seat. His head was turned to the side, and he looked peaceful and contented.
As for Sharon, she was just standing there, bobbing her head and tapping her hip. He couldn’t imagine her keeping up with these skilled musicians, but as soon as she started playing, he knew he was wrong. Her fingers pumped the trumpet’s keys like the pistons of a perfect machine. The sound her instrument emitted was sweet but serious, and it lodged itself deep into his bones. At first his insides were icy, but then he felt as if he were floating in bathwater. He could tell that Sharon was making up the notes as she went along, and he wondered how someone so young could play so well and why he had never known that his weird friend could do something so beautiful. In that moment, he was proud of her. In that moment, he wanted to be like Sharon.
After the song was over, the whole gym seemed to be cheering and shouting, as if they were at a rock concert, not inside a school gymnasium. He clapped his hands more frenetically with each passing moment. The musicians bowed, and Sharon’s face turned bright red. As he looked on, his father’s words popped into his mind: There is no greater virtue than loyalty. He decided he was going to do it. When the commotion died down, he would get up and give her a hug.
The principal rose and made some announcements, and the students started mingling in little circles. David Marcus charged toward the stage, and Keith grabbed his hand and pulled him onto it. Siddharth remained seated, watching the two cousins exchange enthusiastic greetings. His heart thumped loudly when he saw Sharon wipe down her instrument. She placed it in its case and then hugged some girl, another band loser.
As he was finally about to offer congratulations, he paused upon seeing Eddie out of the corner of his eye. Eddie was miming that he was playing an instrument, a clarinet or a saxophone. Luca punched him on the shoulder and broke into laughter. Siddharth got up and rushed to the exit. He headed toward his next class, stopping on a concrete bench in the breezeway. The frigid air cooled his fevered face, and he felt calmer. He told himself that he had been loyal — to Luca, not Sharon.
5. Terrorist Attack
It was New Year’s Eve. Siddharth was on the love seat, sipping a mixture of pink wine and Coca-Cola. Stand By Me was on cable as he flipped through an old issue of Playboy from the late seventies. The centerfold was a brunette who was smiling and wearing sunglasses on a beach chair. She was totally naked, but the picture failed to arouse him.
Marc was still in Florida, and Mohan Lal and Ms. Farber were out to dinner with some of her friends and Barry Uncle, who had just gotten back from Delhi. Siddharth was relieved to be alone after the past couple of weeks. Christmas break had been a haze of microwave french fries, snow shoveling, and general boredom. Ms. Farber had been up to her usual crap, rearranging the furniture and putting up pictures of the four of them. One evening a few days earlier, she had really pissed him off.
He had been in the middle of a Facts of Life episode when his father emerged from his office for the first time in hours. Mohan Lal was wearing stupid kurta pajamas, which he had always refused to wear until one day Ms. Farber said they were handsome. He seated himself on the sofa and asked what was happening in the show. Siddharth explained that a character named Natalie had almost been sexually assaulted.