Tucker arrived at the Musical Arts meeting in the school hall. There was already a fair crowd assembled there. He would have been there earlier but had to deal with that ubbhead Mr Ropata. He had to endure a lecture about bullying other students and stealing their lunches and then got put on rubbish duty for a week.
However, Tucker wasn’t completely annoyed at all that had been said. He had gotten to listen in on a very interesting conversation before being called into the office. Randy Mandy was seeing the head boy. That was news to him. Furthermore, her parents weren’t happy with her hanging around him or Rex. Luke would love to hear about this. Tucker had an idea that would make their plot for the beach party even more humiliating for Rex and his groupies.
‘Tucker, please sit down!’ Mrs Lesley the music teacher scolded him. ‘Everybody should have been here five minutes ago.’
Tucker sat down near the back and was surprised to find Sheep sitting in front of him. He turned around to face Tucker. ‘What are you doing here? You have nothing in the way of musical talent.’
‘Neither have you!’
Mrs Lesley explained to them all the various different groups they wanted to establish this year. Tucker hoped he could get involved in something, just as long as any after school activities didn’t clash with work. After Mrs Lesley had gone into some minor detail on what was available, she invited them to check out the teachers sitting at desks around the room, who were waiting to take names and give out information for any interested students.
Tucker considered which desk he would go to first. Choir, school rock band, orchestra, dance… The rock band sounded like his sort of thing. He could just imagine himself on stage in front of millions of screaming fans belting out some wild song.
Mr Wilson, as 59-year-old man with a grey bushy beard, sat at the desk and already quite a crowd of students surrounded him. ‘Tucker Pyles right? Can’t imagine you in a band, but we don’t discriminate here. Can you play a musical instrument?’
‘Yep! You name it, I play it.’
‘Really? Are you any good?’
‘Does bird shit taste like scrambled eggs?’
Mr Wilson gave him a disgusted look. ‘I don’t know. Does it?’
‘Well it used to when I was a kid… at least it tasted like my mother’s scrambled eggs.’
Mr Wilson screwed up his face. ‘Ah man, that’s gross. Ok Tucker, can you play the guitar?’
‘Can I play the guitar…?’ Tucker scoffed as if it were a silly question. ‘You’ve heard of the band Dire Straits, haven’t you?’
‘Of course! Who hasn’t? I saw them perform at Mt Smart Stadium back in 86. What a great concert.’
‘Well you know the lead singer. He’s my dad and taught me everything I know.’
‘What, Mark Knopfler is your father?’ Mr Wilson muffled a laugh.
‘Errr, yeah.’
‘So why is your name Pyles, not Knopfler?’
‘Because Knopfler is only his stage name.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Mr Wilson chuckled and reached behind himself and grabbed a guitar, which leant against the wall. ‘Give us a demo, Tucker.’ He handed it to him.
‘Err…’ Tucker couldn’t possibly let on the fact he couldn’t play. ‘I err don’t really feel like playing at the moment.’
‘Why not? You want to be considered for the band, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, but someone with talent like me, a pure genius when it comes to the guitar, doesn’t just play because someone wants him to. He has to get into the zone first.’
‘Well let me put it to you plain and simple, Tucker. If you want to audition for a spot in the band, you’ll need to get into the zone right now. You need to prove to me you can at least play a simple tune. So, show me what you’ve got, or move on.’
Tucker groaned and took the guitar from him. He began to strum on the guitar, doing his best to get something nice out of it, but all he got was a jumbled-up mess of unidentifiable chords.
Mr Wilson flinched. ‘I think we’ll pass on you Tucker. Try one of the other groups.’
‘But I’m good, I really am, I just need to get into the zone. I could play keyboards… or the drums, I’m great at the drums.’
‘Pass. Move along Tucker, I have a lot of people to talk to and I haven’t got time to waste with someone who doesn’t live up to his claims.’
‘Uuuuubbaaaaaa,’ groaned Tucker and trundled away to the next desk. The school orchestra. Maybe not as cool as being in a rock group, but he was confident he could play some kind of musical instrument. He’d tooted on his mother’s old flute numerous times and had even managed to play Baa Baa Black Sheep on it, or at least something that came pretty close. A little practise would soon get him up to the necessary standards they’d be looking for. It wouldn’t be long before they’d be making him the star player of the orchestra. Instead of being called the Te Arawa College Orchestra, they’d be promoting it as Tucker Pyles & the Te Arawa College Orchestra.
He became even more determined to join when he saw Chelsea signing up, but then he noticed Sheep there too trying to make his way to the front.
Chelsea raised an eyebrow when she saw him. ‘Sheep. What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you here at all tonight.’
‘I figured I’d give the orchestra a shot. I’ve really started to appreciate classical music over the last few months, you know and I figured it was time to broaden my horizons.’
‘But Sheep, you don’t even know how to play an instrument.’
Tucker snickered. What an ubbhead, he thought to himself. Who the hell would try to sign up for an orchestra when they had no musical aptitude at all?
‘I’ve just started taking piano lessons.’
‘But that takes years to get any good at.’
‘Well I’ll learn some other instrument then. What do you recommend?’
Tucker snickered again. What a complete and utter ubbhead.
‘Sheep, please tell me you’re not trying to join up with the orchestra just to impress me.’
‘Of course not! I really want to do it.’
‘Well… I’m really pleased to see a guy like you being so keen, but I think you might need to learn an instrument first before you try out for the orchestra. I don’t think they’ll take you.’
‘Maybe you’re right.’ Sheep peered down at the ground. ‘Maybe you could teach me to play the clarinet?’
‘I’m not that good at it.’ She smiled.
‘I don’t care. You could just teach me what you know. I’ll even buy my own clarinet.’
‘I don’t think so, Sheep.’
‘Ah come on!’
‘I don’t know. You’d have to prove to me you’re serious first.’
‘I’ll buy a clarinet. Will that convince you?’
‘I guess.’ Chelsea turned back to the table to talk to the teacher. Sheep moved back nearer to where Tucker stood.
‘Are you for real, Shepherd?’ Tucker said, with contempt. ‘You aren’t seriously considering signing up for the orchestra when you don’t even know how to play an instrument, are you?’
Sheep glanced back towards Chelsea and saw she was busy, so turned back and spoke to Tucker in a low voice. ‘Of course, I don’t want to sign up, you spaz. The last thing I want to do is be in the orchestra. I’m just going through the motions, that’s all.’
‘Why?’
‘To impress Chelsea.’
‘Since when were you into her?’
‘Since last…’
‘Attention please!’ a voice came from the stage. At first Tucker thought one of the teacher’s had something to say, but he was very surprised to see Wal standing up on stage, with a microphone in his hand.
‘What the hell…?’ Sheep stared up at him in disbelief.
Many people had already left the hall, but it was still a few seconds before all the talk died down and all attention went to the stage.
‘I err…’ Wal said. ‘I have something I’d like to do. I know there are a few
people signing up for the school choir and well… I sort of wanted to sign up too.’
There were snickers from a lot of people down on the floor who knew him well.
‘What an ubbhead. Can you imagine him in the choir?’ Tucker said to Sheep.
‘Hell no…’ But Sheep didn’t look particularly convinced. In fact, there was concern on his face.
Wal continued to talk. ‘Now no one’s gonna believe a guy like me is serious, so I figured the best way to convince you is to do a little audition. So, I hope yas don’t mind me doing a little number.’
Sheep’s eyes bugged. ‘He has got to be joking…’
Wal motioned over to the side of the stage. Some music started to play over the speakers. Tucker recognised the tune as an old Joe Cocker song.
‘You are so beautiful to me… You are so beautiful to me… can’t you seeee?’
As Wal sang, his eyes remained locked in the direction of the Orchestra table. When Tucker glanced over, the first thing he noticed was Chelsea standing there, staring up onto the stage, wide-eyed.
Tucker couldn’t believe it. Was Wal singing to her?
‘You’re everything I hoped for… you’re everything I dreaaaaaamed…’
Tucker noticed the look on Sheep’s face. It was one of horror. He stared from Chelsea, back up to Wal, then back down to Chelsea again. When Tucker examined the expression on Chelsea’s face, it had changed to one of amazement. In fact, she looked entranced.
‘You are so beautiful to meeee…’
Tucker thought Wal was actually not a bad singer. He wouldn’t have won a talent quest, but he could hold a tune and actually sung the song with feeling. He sure had guts standing up there, singing a love song to Chelsea Brown. Others too, had started to notice his fixed gaze as he sung and were peering over to where Chelsea stood.
‘This is a sick joke,’ Sheep muttered. ‘I can’t believe he’s doing this.’
‘I didn’t know he was into Chelsea.’
Sheep just scowled, continuing to glare up at Wal and then turned his eyes back to Chelsea once more. Wal continued to sing, continuing to keep his eyes fixed on Chelsea. Once he was done, all those listening applauded and cheered. Wal quickly left the stage.
Chelsea made her way through the small crowd hovering around the orchestra desk. ‘Wow,’ she said once she reached Sheep. ‘Was I imagining it or was he looking at me the entire time he sang that song? I think I must be going mad.’
‘I think Ullman’s flipped his lid, that’s what,’ Sheep said. ‘If he thinks he’s gonna get in the choir, he should think again.’
‘I think it’s really neat,’ said Chelsea. ‘Even if he wasn’t singing it to me. Maybe he’s starting to mellow out a bit is our Wal.’
‘That’ll be the day,’ Sheep replied, with irritation in his voice. ‘Wal will always be an uncouth loudmouth. That’s just the way he is.’
Tucker was about to agree when he noticed Vanessa saunter over to the Dance desk. She was signing up. He decided to forget about trying to get into the school orchestra. Dance was his forte now. He could see it now, he and Vanessa dancing together on stage. They would have the lead roles in the school musical. They would sing a duet together and wow the audience with their impressive manoeuvres.
He hurried over to the desk. Vanessa was the only one there now, as all the others had signed up and left the hall.
‘So, what training have you done in the way of dance?’ Mrs Heller, the young blonde dance teacher asked.
‘I’ve trained in a range of dance. Started with ballet when I was young and moved to Traditional and Modern dance. I’ve done some Latin, but really want to learn some more.’
‘Wow, your resume sounds impressive. Of course, it doesn’t matter how much experience you’ve had or how much you know, we cater for beginners and advanced learners. Of course, you have to be very good if you want to get into the school musical later on in the year. We’ll only have a few openings there. So please, take these forms and fill them in and get them back to us as soon as possible.’
‘I’m in!’ Tucker stepped up.
Both Mrs Heller and Vanessa turned their eyes to him.
‘You?’ Mrs Heller tried to hold back a laugh, but couldn’t.
‘Tucker, Tucker, I think you’re in the wrong place,’ Vanessa said. ‘I think you’re meant to be in the Eating Arts meeting over in the Home Economics room.’
Tucker jerked back and stared at her wide-eyed. ‘Eating Arts? I never heard they were doing those. I need to go sign up for eating classes now.’
He was about to charge away to the Home Economics room, but Mrs Heller stopped him. ‘There are no eating classes! She’s having you on.’
‘UuuuuBbaaaaaaaa.’
‘Do you have any dancing skills at all? I just… It just seems to me, you don’t look like the type who would have a lot of rhythm.’
Tucker tried to put on a debonair smile. ‘They call me Mr Rhythm in many places. Once I get into the zone, I’m pretty darn impressive.’
Vanessa grinned. ‘I take it we’re talking about the Twilight Zone here?’
‘I can show you some moves if you like?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
Tucker started to wiggle his hips and do a little jig.
‘Please Tucker, stop it,’ Vanessa pleaded with him.
‘Let’s groove, baby.’
‘Tucker, you have to stop. This is doing me some serious psychological damage.’
‘Get a load of this.’ He moved his arms backwards and forwards, really getting into it now.
‘Do you realise how many sessions with my shrink I’m going to have to have, to get over the trauma of this? It’s going to cost my mother a fortune.’
He continued to dance.
‘The last thing I want is to be locked up in a padded cell somewhere, wearing a white jacket with the sleeves tied behind my back.’
‘Tucker, that’s enough!’ Mrs Heller said. ‘I think we’ve seen quite enough. I really don’t think you have the skills we are looking for.’
‘UuBBAA! But you just said to Vanessa before that you were happy to take on beginners.’
‘Beginners Tucker,’ Vanessa said gently. ‘You’ve regressed further back than that. You’re at the Rehabilitation phase, where major work needs to be done, just to repair all the damage previous attempts at dancing have done.’
‘Yes…’ Mrs Heller snorted back a laugh. ‘Vanessa has a very good point. I don’t think there’s anything I can do for you.’
‘Hey, I can break-dance you know. Watch!’ Desperate to impress them both he got down onto the floor on his back and attempted a backspin. He went out of control and his feet crashed into the table, sending it toppling over. Vanessa had to leap out of the way to avoid getting kicked.
‘Tucker!’ Mrs Heller shouted at him. ‘Get up off the floor!’
Tucker painfully hauled himself to his feet.
‘Contrary to what you might think,’ Vanessa said. ‘When you break-dance you’re not actually supposed to break things.’
Tucker couldn’t help but feel small, especially when he noticed everyone who was still in the hall staring at him.
‘I’m sorry Tucker,’ Mrs Heller said. ‘I just don’t think there’s room in my classes for you.’
‘UuuuuBbaaaaaa,’ groaned Tucker.
It seemed that he was not going to get to sign up for any classes today. Although there was the school choir, however, when the teacher at the Choir table saw him looking in her direction, she quickly closed up shop and packed the last of her forms and brochures into a box.
It looked like Tucker was not going to be part of the school’s musical arts program this year.