I’m drowning in a sea of band kids, and the waves sound like Bach’s Chorale Number One, notes crashing into each other and sending up sprays of squeaks and squeals. I clutch my flute, perched on my gum-encrusted chair, on the first day of freshman year. Ratty warm-up books shuffle along the stands. I try to play along, but I’m shaking too much to play a note. I can’t do this.

Somehow, time goes on. Months fly by, and spring arrives. I don’t belong.

Swanny’s talking. “Hey! You all get to audition.” Audition? For what? The school’s elite band, Wind Symphony, basically varsity. Swanny keeps talking, but I’m hugging my flute and fighting back tears. A solo, in front of Swanny himself. Then he holds up a list of names. Lilly’s on it. Lilly. She’s confident, someone I admire. Imagine being in the same band as her.

I sigh. I can’t do this. But I might as well try, for her.

Time flies. Audition day arrives. I’m shaky, nervous, missing notes. The music blurs. I can’t do this.

Time rushes until I’m in the hallway, staring at the Wind Symphony list. Near the bottom, small black ink spells my name before blurring like my thoughts. My friend frowns. “Are you crying?” I say no while wiping my eyes. I made it. Somehow.

Summer darts away, a blur of fun and fear, and suddenly it’s the first day of school.

They sound amazing.

The sea of band kids surrounds me again. The waves are calmer, but fear still pulls me down. I open Bach’s Chorale Number One in the same warm-up book. Each note glimmers like sunlight on water. I squeak along as best I can. Lilly glances at me. I’m bringing everyone down.

Time sprints past until Swanny asks, “Who wants the solo? It’s one held-out note.” My hand rises before I can stop it.

Swanny nods. Lilly raises an eyebrow. But what if this is my chance? What if I can lift everyone up?

Time ticks with my metronome. I practice. Tune it. Don’t squeak. Play it right. I can’t let them down.

Time freezes with my breath. I lift my flute, shaking, and hold one fragile note, a plea of hope. The sound fades. I lower my flute.

Lilly nods, smiling. I did it.

School begins again. Warm-up books shuffle. Chorale Number One fills the room. Just like before, but this time, we sound amazing.

Back then, I couldn’t do it. Now, I’m getting better. Not perfect, but stronger. Lilly inspired me to believe in myself.

The sea is calm now, notes flowing together, and I swim confidently through the waves of band kids, learning that growth, perseverance, and finding my voice alongside others is how We Are America.

© Ashley. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.