Reid uploads each file and I splice. Every so often my hand skims against his, or he readjusts my glasses when they slide too far down my nose and it’s not even weird. It’s okay. It’s almost like music, a rhythm all our own.

We work on the medley through dinner, and we don’t have to talk about what this is, what we’re doing, what happens next. For the tiniest moment in the universe nothing exists except Reid, the music, and me.

Aaron Jacobson’s Protégé

The setup only brought Reid and Madeline closer. An all-around catastrophic fail.

Band became the worst part of my day. At the time, it was easier to blame these feelings on Reid and Madeline than to acknowledge the truth.

Rehearsals were a slog. Practicing? My least favorite thing in the universe.

However, one silver lining in the mess I made was the lessons I reinstated with my dad. Reid slightly toned down his rigorous lesson schedule to be a boyfriend, or whatever. So the empty slots in my dad’s schedule became mine solo, and working with him, spending time with him again, was exactly what I’d hoped, what I’d wanted since Reid butted in.

“I knew you had it in you, kiddo,” Dad said the first time I nailed “The Tempest.” I would play eighteen measures of A any day to see the pride on his face like that.

Muscle memory pulled Madeline up on my phone. All I wanted was to text her.

Except she had never answered my last text. Begging her to hear me out. To let me apologize.

I couldn’t text her. So I put my phone away, deconstructed the clarinet, and exited my dad’s studio, hyped to celebrate my accomplishment with Dad’s special chocolate chip peanut butter pancakes. Maybe I’d lost Madeline, but at least today’s lesson felt like the old days, before the clarinet became synonymous with Reid. Now, I could be his protégé.

Except at the top of the basement stairs, I heard the sound of my father’s voice.

“It’s okay to wallow, but chin up, Reid. There’s always next year.”

My clarinet case slipped out of my hand, falling down the stairs and landing with a thud. Tears sprang to my eyes as my dad’s words reverberated in my eardrums. There’s… always next year? No. I beat Reid. It was supposed to be my moment. But of course, it was never over. As long as Reid and I were in contention for the same chair, it would always be like this.