If the low brass could not balance a chord, he rearranged seating.
If a freshman percussionist became nervous playing alone, Samuel asked three seniors to remain after rehearsal and run the passage with him.
Students began arriving early.
Not because they were afraid of punishment.
Because rehearsal became useful.
Kendal noticed something else.
They started helping one another.
Jordan Vance did not return for the first week.
His chair remained empty.
Nobody mentioned him.
Then, on a rainy Monday morning, he appeared outside the band-room doors holding his clarinet case.
Conversation stopped when he entered.
Jordan looked thinner.
Dark circles had formed under his eyes.
He walked toward the second clarinet row.
A senior blocked the aisle.
“You serious?”
Jordan stopped.
The senior folded his arms.
“After everything your uncle did?”
Jordan’s face reddened.
“I didn’t do it.”
“You took the chair.”
“My uncle gave it to me.”
“Exactly.”
“I didn’t ask him to break her instrument.”
The room grew louder.
Someone behind Kendal said, “Get out.”
Jordan turned toward the door.
Kendal stood.
“Wait.”
The room quieted.
Jordan did not turn around.
Kendal walked down the row.
Her bruises had faded to pale yellow by then.
The injury to her wrist had improved enough for full practice.
She stopped several feet behind Jordan.
“Did you know?”
Jordan’s shoulders tightened.
“Know what?”
“That he changed the scores.”
Silence.
Jordan stared at the floor.
Kendal waited.
Finally, he nodded.
The room erupted.
“You knew?”
“You liar!”
“Kick him out!”
Samuel struck his cane against the podium.
One sharp crack.
Everyone stopped.
Kendal kept looking at Jordan.
“How long?”
Jordan swallowed.
“Since district tryouts.”
“Did you know what my actual score was?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“Ninety-nine.”
“And yours?”
Jordan whispered, “Eighty-one.”
Kendal took a breath.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Jordan turned around.
His eyes were wet.
“Because I wanted first chair.”
Nobody moved.
Jordan wiped his face angrily.
“I wanted it,” he repeated. “I knew I didn’t earn it. I knew he changed it. But everybody kept telling me I was supposed to be great because of my uncle.”