The Band Thief

You could find me just about anytime hanging out with my friends in the Falcon band, the advanced marching and concert group at Sierra Heights Middle School. The Falcons had all shared many experiences such as competitions and concerts. We were like a big family until a repeated chain of events started to divide us, threatening to break our bonds……forever.
Within the band, I had a special clan of eighth grade friends who got together on many weekends. First, there was blond haired Riley Collins who played the clarinet. Second was the humorous brunette Morgan Ellis who came from a family of saxophone players. Third was shy Celine Liu who had gotten into the honor band on flute the previous year. Lastly, our redheaded sassy trumpet player, Hannah Michaels, was a favorite of many boys. I played the French horn, and because I lived across from our school, often invited them to my house. After school, while we were waiting for the band photographers to arrive for picture day, we sat at a lunch table occupied by an eighth grade percussionist named Sophie, who had just transferred to our school this year. She was busily finishing her homework. I was impressed by her discipline.
“My mom just texted me from The Coffee House. Do you girls want anything?” Riley broke into my thoughts. She was looking up from her new iPhone.
“Sure, I would like a medium strawberry frappuccino.” I replied extracting a five dollar bill from my jeans pocket.
“I would like a small caramel macchiato.” Celine said, digging in her purse.
Morgan grinned. “A large hot chocolate for me!”
Out of politeness, we all looked at Sophie.
“No thanks.” Sophie mumbled, reddening and twisting her bracelet which consisted of blue and green beads.
A while later, Riley’s mom pulled up in her Mercedes convertible with the drinks. She passed them out one by one and we gave her the money.
“Thank you Mrs. Collins!” we chorused.
Picture day always took forever, but it was worth it. I was waiting, next, in the outrageously long line, when Riley came up to me. She looked worried, so I immediately knew something was wrong.
“Jordan, have you seen my maroon Vans?”
“No Riley, I haven't seen them.” I replied. “I can help you look for them after-”  I was interrupted.
“NEEEXXTTT!!” called the photographer.
“Thanks. Talk to you later.” Riley wandered away.
The photographer told me to take my French horn and stand in the printed footprints that were on the floor. I grinned for the camera and held my trusty French horn to my side. The camera flashed and the lights obscured my vision. I glanced at my picture, gave the photographer a thumbs up, and scuttled off to the band room to find Riley.
I found her questioning others about her shoes. When she saw me, she smiled and came running up.
“Any luck?” I asked.
“Not yet, but Mr. Roberts promises to announce it after everyone finishes with their pictures.”
“Ok, let’s start searching.”
I searched in the tuba room while Riley took the drum room. Our search narrowed as we peered into lockers and around the vibes, marimba, and timpani. One thing was clear to us now. Somebody had taken Riley’s shoes from their designated spot. Now, all we could do was gaze hopelessly at the endless backpacks that littered the floor.
“Why would anybody want used shoes?” she said.
“I have no clue.” I replied, quite puzzled.
Finally, when everybody was done with their pictures, we were herded into the band room. We took a seat on the floor and listened very intently to our director.
“Guys and girls, multiple thefts have occurred today, and I am very disappointed this has happened.”
Riley and I exchanged looks. What did he mean by “multiple” thefts?
“Riley’s maroon Vans and Tiffany’s $30 have vanished.”
“If they do not turn up after a search, somebody is evidently guilty of theft. I am sorry to say this, but we cannot trust each other anymore.”  Mr. Roberts shook his head disgustedly.
Then, everybody jumped to their feet and started a frantic search around the band room.
Percussion equipment littered the floor and we searched in the most unlikely places. It seemed like the thefts would never be resolved.
Our next major competition was at a high school two hours away. We piled into separate buses for girls and boys and set off. When we had reached the high school, everything was chaos. Band members were scrambling about in their uniforms. Others were grabbing their instruments. Finally, after a 25 minute wait, we were ready to begin the competition. The center point stepped over the competition line, and the parade started. I was quite nervous as I stared at the color guard’s flags twirling about in midair. But, as suddenly as it had began, the competition was over and we were gathering on a grassy slope.
“Great job guys!” exclaimed our band director.
Later, the marching band was gathered around the buses eating the lunch of sandwiches, chips, and a fruit that was provided. I had just taken a bite out of my apple when I realized that someone was hurrying toward me. It was Morgan.
“Hi. My money is missing from my duffle bag.  Did you see $15 laying around near our seats?” Morgan said worriedly.
“I have not. Maybe you should report this to our director.”
“I have. He is absolutely furious. This has wrecked his day, after we did so good at the parade.”
“I understand.” I replied sympathetically.
“EVERYBODY THAT WAS ON THE GIRLS’ BUS COME RIGHT HERE NOW!” hollered Mr. Roberts.
“Morgan here is missing her money. She left it on the bus and now it’s gone!” he raged.
“Somebody has darn better confess or return the money, otherwise I am canceling our trip to Hurricane Bay water park!!!” Mr. Roberts was angrier than I had ever seen him.
“Awwww..” groaned the students.
At that minute I decided that something was going to have to change. I needed to find that thief. I was going to form a posse!
After we had got back to our school, I gathered all my friends and announced,  “Something has got to happen. We have to find the thief! We need to get to the bottom of this for our own good. We can't loose our water park trip. Who is with me?” I asked emphatically.
“I am.”
“Me too.”
“Definitely.”
“Let’s find the thief!”
“I want to go to the Hurricane Bay.”
“I am glad that you are all with me. Now gather close, for this is very important.” I talked, practically at a whisper.
“We now know that the thief is a girl. No boys enter the girls’ bus.”
“Agreed!” Morgan nodded.
I tried to think like my father, a police detective, would.
“Last year, we never experienced any thefts, so likely the thief joined the Falcons this year. The thief is likely a seventh grader.”  I paused, and everyone seemed impressed by my theory.
“We must now trap this individual by means of what they like most…..money.” I ventured.
“When will this plan go into action?” Hannah asked.
“Tomorrow, during rehearsal. It will be perfect because Mr. Roberts will be testing people on the march, and we have already been tested.”
Before rehearsal, my friends and I gathered. We entered the band room and placed a twenty, clearly sticking out of Celine’s backpack. Nobody was supposed to be in the band room, but Mr. Roberts was finishing up the marching test. Then, we stationed Hannah and Morgan behind the bass drum and vibes. I took up a position in the tuba room. Minutes ticked by as we waited, camouflaged beneath the band equipment. Suddenly, our hearts stopped as a girl carrying her trombone entered the band room. She removed a bottle and quickly oiled her slide. It was Rachel, our first trombone. Rachel, assuming nobody was in the band room, snapped off the light and exited without any notice of the money. The band room was plunged into darkness. I wondered if I would ever find the thief.
Finally, a figure crept in, cautiously checking to see if anyone was looking and snapped on one dim light. The newcomer bent over to inspect backpacks. She would soon come to Celine’s. We saw, out of the one dim ceiling light, a familiar blue and green bracelet snatch the twenty dollar bill and put it into her pocket. We all sprang out of our hiding places and confronted the thief. We then dragged her into a practice room. We snapped on the light and Sophie was standing before us.  The thief was not a seventh grader at all.
“What do you want?” Sophie inquired nervously.
“We saw you steal money out of Celine’s backpack.
Our words seemed to have a direct affect on her and she burst out crying.
“I needed money to buy lunch…My mom was fired because she could not get to work on time.  Our car’s transmission went out, and she had no way to get there. ” she confessed miserably.
She struggled with her tears, then continued on,  “I also needed better shoes because my sole is coming off, and Ms. Barstow, the Dance PE teacher, is getting mad because I can’t do the dance moves correctly…”
One by one, our faces softened. This girl was not as bad as we had made her out to be. She was just a girl. A girl with a poor family. One that hardly owned anything at all. Here we were with our fancy gadgets and belongings, all caught up in ourselves when someone else was in need.
“Sophie,” I blurted awkwardly, “I really wouldn’t understand what you were going through, but I am very sorry for it. Please don’t rely on stealing as a cure though.”
“Maybe you should tell an elder about how much you are suffering through.”  Riley added gently.
“Ok. I also promise I will never steal.” Sophie replied. “I will return to Riley her shoes and Tiffany and Morgan their money immediately.”
“Thank you. But you can keep my shoes because I have a whole rack of them.” Riley admitted sheepishly.
“Oh thank you Riley!” exclaimed Sophie with a sudden burst of emotion.
The money was then returned and we all accepted Sophie’s apology, for we knew that we were much more fortunate than her. Hannah even offered to let her keep the money. Sophie refused, saying she knew it wasn’t right, then she hugged us all. We decided that we would slip Tiffany’s money back into her locker, where she kept her euphonium.  That night I reflected on how lucky I was.  I had not really realized that. My friends and I needed to think of ways to help Sophie though her tough times. That could be our next project.
THE END :)