“I know.”
“You are a child.”
“I know.”
“He could have hurt you worse.”
“I know.”
Danielle’s anger collapsed as quickly as it had appeared.
She sat beside Kendal and covered her face.
“I watched the video on the plane,” she whispered.
Marcus moved closer.
“I watched it six times.”
Kendal put an arm around her mother.
“I’m okay.”
Danielle lowered her hands.
“No,” she said. “You will be okay. That is different.”
Kendal nodded.
Danielle touched her daughter’s braids carefully.
“Your grandfather called.”
Kendal looked up.
“He saw it?”
“Everybody saw it.”
“What did he say?”
Danielle’s mouth twitched.
“He said he always hated that podium.”
Kendal laughed so suddenly that she winced from the pain in her neck.
Marcus laughed too.
Danielle shook her head.
“That old man has been waiting thirty years to say that.”
Kendal’s grandfather, Samuel Mercer, had attended the same high school in 1978.
Arthur Vance had not been there then.
But men like him had.
Samuel had been told by one music instructor that symphony work was unrealistic for “boys from his side of town.”
He had ignored the advice.
At nineteen, he won a conservatory scholarship.
At twenty-seven, he became the second Black principal clarinetist in the history of the state symphony.
The instrument Kendal carried into rehearsal that morning had traveled with him to London, Vienna, Toronto, Chicago, and hundreds of smaller concert halls throughout the Midwest.
When Samuel retired, he gave it to Kendal.
But only after making her promise something.
“You never use this instrument to prove you’re better than somebody,” he had told her.
“You use it to remind yourself how good you can become.”
Three days after Vance was removed from campus, Samuel Mercer entered the same auditorium carrying a cane and wearing a tan wool coat.
Every student recognized him.
Word moved across the room before he reached the stage.
“That’s Kendal’s grandfather.”
“The symphony guy?”
“Yeah.”
“No way.”
Samuel walked slowly down the aisle.
Kendal saw him and stood.
“Grandpa?”
Samuel climbed the stairs one at a time.
He stopped in front of the podium.
For a long moment, he simply looked at it.
Then he tapped it once with his cane.
“Ugly thing.”
The students laughed.
Kendal hugged him.
Samuel kissed her forehead.
“You brought the good clarinet.”
“You told me to wait until the room was clean.”
Samuel looked across the ensemble.
“I heard.”
Dr. Holloway had asked Samuel to visit for a different reason.
The district had spent three days trying to find someone willing to lead the band through state evaluation.
Two university directors had declined because of schedule conflicts.
A retired military conductor offered to help twice a week but could not commit to daily rehearsals.
Ms. Gable remained on staff, but after admitting she had ignored years of intimidation, she had requested reassignment pending the investigation.
The students needed a director.
Samuel Mercer looked at Dr. Holloway when she explained the situation.
“I retired seven years ago.”
“I know.”