A Different Key

Walking home, taking the time to shout out something meaningless to a friend on the other side of the road, couldn’t stop the melody flying around in my head. The idea just sounded so good in my brain, sometimes with different variations, that I just “had” to work on it at home in dad’s studio after dinner. Mom’s hello followed by her telling me that her and dad were going out later on and wouldn’t be back till probably 2.30am or later, just made me more excited than ever.

Shortly after mom and dad left, I went back up to my room and started getting changed into my music clothes. I took a few moments to undo the back of my hair, before sitting infront of my make shift vanity to start brushing my hair with a soft brush until it gradually began to lustre. The theme in my head dictated no fancy face tonight, so I simply settled for a light makeover till I saw “Jane” looking back at me from the mirror. Having watched my mom do it countless times, I sprayed some of my perfume into the air just above me and proceeded to stand under it for a moment before walking towards my bedroom door.

Then, as Jane I calmly walked the short distance from the house over to the other building, where I unlocked it. Once inside and having turned on the wall switch, the studio magically appeared out of darkness. The gentle perfume I had on couldn’t compete with the heavy duty air freshener permeating the studio’s artificially fresh atmosphere. The air freshener though failed to entirely mask the smell of stale cigarette smoke, coffee and various junk food odours.

But at least I could slightly smell my perfume and my mood as Jane would never think of anything bad or yucky. Besides the studio seemed to smell “right” for making good music and I was in the frame of mind to do just that. Besides I had a pedigree of sorts musically speaking to live up to, because my dad had himself once been an exceptionally successful and well known musician when he was younger. Back then he’d work for months on end substituting for members of well-known rock bands if and when one of them had to leave a tour they were on due to illness, exhaustion, family problems or whatever reasons. He used to boast about how it wasn’t easy or cheap to hire him back then either, because he was always booked solid for studio recording sessions.

Whenever he was out touring with a band on the road, mom would be at home raising me and generally looking after dad’s finances. She did it so well he never ended up being one of those musicians you often read about who simply went broke once they no longer got asked to tour with bands or lost their instrument playing talent.

Because dad had wised up after fifteen or so years touring on the road, he decided that setting up a recording studio and producing other musician’s music was the way of the future. So he went and found, then purchased a spare ten acres out in the Boondocks, built a house along with another building that he fitted out as an elaborate state of the art recording studio.

Luckily for all of us (financially) dad’s skill at mixing and producing quickly gained him a reputation in the music industry for producing hit filled albums for musicians. I must be one of the few kids on this planet who could boast of having “jived” with famous musicians like G J Kale and Derrick Clapton and actually played as one of the backup rhythm guitarists on one song from Bruce Einsteins “Born to Jump” album.

Nowadays dad’s clients weren’t just rock bands or rock musicians. He’d branched out successfully to produce platinum albums for artists of different musical genres. Dad always liked feedback to see if he was on the right track and played the recording session music he’d done each day in the house afterwards to try and find out if mum and I thought it sounded as good as he thought it did.

So I not only got the chance to listen to final takes before the public ever had a chance to, but was lucky enough to be able to usually listen to the rejected takes, which if I liked one I’d copy it onto a disk of my own to muck about with.

Yesterday dad had played a song he thought was catchy, but definitely not a hit. “A good filler track” is how he deemed the song, but its catchy melody struck a chord with me. So much so that a day later I still couldn’t get it out of my head going to school.

Since I was old enough to hold a musical instrument in my hands, dad had (whenever he wasn’t touring) taught me not only how to play a number of musical instruments (most of which I was quite good at now) but also how to operate the sound mixing console boards in the studio.

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This evening, placing my CD copy of the recording into the console mixer’s disk player and listening to the song over and over, I began experimenting with sliding one lever or another of the mixing console up or down looking for the sound I preferred to hear. You see, by slowly altering the singer’s pitch as well as the volume of certain instruments, I thought I could find what sounded best for my tastes.

The recording artist yesterday had been a little known country and western musician, Tank Jefferies or some name like that, who dad told me and mom, had obtained some music company talent manager’s ear. The talent manager decided to take a gamble and see if the guy had “that” sound, which could be potentially turned into a big money spinner for the recording company. By using dad’s facility instead of his own corporation’s studio facilities, it meant that he could do it much cheaper than doing it in-house, so that if it didn’t work out, his reputation wouldn’t take a hit or be noticed in the boardroom.

Dad’s studio mixing console was allowing me to alter the recording artist’s voice for pitch and I was starting to think that the song should be sung (recorded) by a female instead of a guy, because to me, it sounded better the way I had fiddled with the mixing. In the end I rerecorded the song using the settings I liked the best for the song, while singing the lyrics in my “Jane’s” voice.

Then I began to compose using my guitar for accompaniment, counter melodies and harmonies that I felt could make the song even better. Keeping the rerecorded master aside, I added my musical instrument playing to create a different background harmony. Then by adding additional keyboard and synthesizer I felt happy with how the song now sounded with a female singing and having female backing harmonies accompanying it.

The end result was definitely “in another galaxy far, far away” from the one dad had finished off with the original recording. Tired but happy, I took a copy of “my” mix and headed back to the house to get changed into Michael before my parents got home, which would be around 2.30am and it was now pushing 2am. However in my satisfied state of mind, I entirely forgot about the other recording copy CD I’d done (I always took two), which was still in the mixing console’s player.

The fact that I forgot to remove one of my private CD copies wasn’t the only mistake I’d make that evening. Unbeknownst to me, dad had gone and installed security cameras in the studio (for insurance purposes) I found out later on. He’d never mentioned any of that to me, which he usually did.

The next morning saw my parents in the usual morning routine of dad (still somewhat bleary eyed) wolfing down breakfast before hurrying to the studio next door to continue recording. Mum made breakfast for me, before sending me off to school (if it was a week day, which today’s was) then go about keeping the house clean, or whatever else she needed to do to help dad.

So I endured my normal school bus trip, followed by another dreary day of learning. It was just like any other normal school day and never had me expecting when I came home after school, to have my mother tell me in an unusual tone of voice that she and I needed to have a private mother/son talk after I had changed out of my school clothes.

I had no idea what mum wanted to talk to me about as I was always careful in covering Jane’s tracks around my room and in the house. My school grades were good, so since I never played up or took drugs, I had no idea what mom wanted to talk to about.

I said I’d get changed and come back down and talk, before heading up the staircase and had almost gotten to my door, when I heard a song on the stereo that sent icy tentacles through me. I hurriedly closed my bedroom door before dashing over to look in my closet to see if Jane’s outfits (at the back) had been disturbed.

Relieved they didn’t appear to have been moved, I didn’t have the sense to think anything other than I must have left my recording from last night in my computer’s hard drive and mom had simply played it while cleaning up my room and taken the CD downstairs to play down there. Mom often did that with music that I bought from the stores or borrowed from friends at school, since we both enjoyed similar tastes in music.

But a quick look at my hard drove still showed the CD inside it. So I then decided that dad must have seen the CD I now realised I must have inadvertently left behind in the studio last night and handed it over to mom to listen to. Since neither CD had any writing on it, I began breathing normally again. After I got changed, I loped down the stairs into the lounge room where mom was sitting there waiting for me and stopped dead in my tracks at the image confronting me on the TV screen. There was Jane standing infront of a covered microphone singing one of the accompanying harmonies I had worked out last night.

My face must have already turned puce, before mom (with a knowing smile) inquired if I knew who the girl was singing in my father’s studio last night. I was too shocked at seeing myself (Jane) on TV to answer at first. Thinking quickly, I was about to answer mom, when she stopped me dead in my tracks by telling me that dad and her already knew about my private dressing up, but she was very impressed at how realistic I looked dressed as a girl.

Mum casually informed me “your dad had to explain to Tank about how his song had been rerecorded by a female artist after he left yesterday. Tank seems to prefer your version better than his and your dad had to think fast to tell Tank that he was just helping out a young local girl by allowing her to use Tank’s song for a private demo tape”, pointing to the TV screen “seems your voice suits country music”.

“Oh Crap” I was thinking as mum told me all this. It didn’t help when mom told me that Tank wanted to do a couple of remixes him and dad had already recorded, using the girl on the screen for back up harmony. So young miss your dad had to tell a little white lie about knowing this girl” pointing at my on the TV “and saying he’d see about arranging it.

“In fact Michael or do your prefer Michelle honey” mum asked with a smile, “your dad wants to meet this girl tonight at dinner, so you’d best go upstairs and start getting changed dear.” I started walking off to my room, frightened at the prospect of knowing that my parents knew about Jane when my mom’s voice called out to me “I’d suggest the pretty apricot blouse and a skirt honey and while you’re at it, I do like your hair the way it is on the security tape honey” mom advised me.

I slowly trooped up the stairs, wondering if dad was going to throw me out of the house when I turned up for dinner as Jane. But while I was scared of dad’s anger, a part of me was glad that my parents actually knew about my crossdressing. If mom’s reaction was anything to go by, then maybe she might be able to keep dad from punishing me too severely.

Still I or should I say Jane was “out” now so the best thing to do would be to make as good an impression on dad and mom as Jane and see how the chips fell.

So I took extra special care with both my hair and my makeup, even doing a slight underline under both bottom eyelids to accentuate my eyes. Putting nail polish on my fingernails I decided on not painting my toes, because I’d be wearing stay ups along with my only pair of heeled shoes (about 2 inches and enclosed at the front). I put my hair up in a similar style to yesterday evenings and chose a light frosted pink lipstick which I felt was my colour for all my (limited) outfits. A quick kiss on a tissue then saw me nervously opening my bedroom door and walking outside towards the staircase.

When I walked back into the lounge room, the TV was showing Jane playing a keyboard as the sound accompanied me/her. Mom was out in the kitchen, so with no one to see me, I took the time to look at Jane (as other people would see her) for the first time. The tape was in black and white, which in a way I felt didn’t flatter me very much! But aside from the obvious light make up which didn’t hide Michael entirely, I felt that Jane didn’t look like “a guy in drag” although I’m certain that Tank would have been suspicious of her, unless he was blind.

Finally summoning up the courage I (really it was Jane) approached the kitchen so as to confront mom (and dad if he was finished for the day). My walking quietly into the kitchen followed by “what’s for tea mom” in my Jane voice, had my mother turning round and freezing in stunned bewilderment, at the appearance of her unknown daughter.

“Oh my, honey you look………..like a teenage girl” mum gushed out, before rushing over to give me a hug and an air kiss, then starting to talk to me as if I was her daughter instead of her son. Mom led me over to the table where after we were seated, remarked on everything about my appearance. My blouse, my skirt, my makeup, which she said I did better than her and had to tell her how I did it. Within a few minutes we were talking about female things as if I’d always been her daughter.

When mom asked me if I called myself Michelle, I made her smile telling her I preferred the name Jane. So from that moment on mom said her and dad would only call me Jane for the rest of the day. When dad appeared in the kitchen, he was confronted not by one but two women, one of which he had only seen this morning and even then only in black and white. Like mom had, he stood in stunned silence, trying to comprehend if the girl infront of him was actually his son Michael, who certainly didn’t look a bit like his son now.

Mom laughed uproariously at my dad’s dazed expression. “What’s the matter dumdum, cat got your tongue. Come over and meet your daughter Jane”, which broke the ice and saw dad coming over to give me a gentle squeeze and a kiss on top of my head. He then sat down across from me at the table shaking in head in disbelief, while my mom smiled back at him and I even managed a nervous smile, knowing that whatever dad thought in private, at least he wasn’t going to throw me out of the house.

Dad finally found his voice. “I’m not really sure what to say right now…….Jane? I mean your mom told me about a year ago that she thought you might be dressing up in female clothes and against my better judgement I agreed not to say anything. Of course that was provided you only did it around the house and never in public, I was willing to allow you your little secret fantasy. But looking at you now……I mean I don’t have to tell you I’m shocked at how realistic you look.”

“And I’m even willing to overlook that you forced me to have to lie outrageously to Tank Jefferies about helping a young local girl get started in the music industry by letting her record a demo of one of his songs as a trial, without his written consent. I’ve got to tell you” and here he chuckled momentarily, “you know he actually likes your version more than his Jane” and dad smiled at me.

Then chameleon like, his tone of voice changed and he sounded serious “BUT what I’m NOT willing to overlook is how you’ve been keeping your musical abilities hidden away from me for so long! That young lady, I’m not willing to forgive” and with that dad smiled at me and I finally started to relax.

When mom made me help her get dinner ready, which entailed putting on a pinny so I didn’t ruin my clothes, I understood it to be a test and did my damnedest to talk, walk, act and behave like a teenage girl. Normally as Michael, I’d wolf my food down quickly when I ate. But as Jane, it was with tiny mouse bites, all of which I felt my mom approved of. Dad even offered me a glass of wine with my meal, which was a complete shock as he’d never offered me a glass of wine or even a beer as Michael. True it was only a half glass, and I didn’t like the taste very much. But I guess it was dad’s way of showing he didn’t appear to mind Jane being at the dinner table for the evening.

When desert was eaten and the table cleared away, dad said the three of us should go into the lounge room and talk everything over. I was then informed that mom and dad would see me in there after I loaded the dishwasher, which is where I found them occupying the main lounge when I walked in as dad indicated that I should sit in the lounge chair just across from them.

Thinking this was another test, to see if I could sit down in a lady like fashion, had me cautiously sweeping the back of my skirt under me as I carefully sat down, legs together at the knees and angled slightly over to one side. Mum’s slight nod towards me showed I passed the test, although I had no idea how easily I’d be able to get back up out of the chair without showing something, even though my skirt was knee length on me.

Once we were all settled, dad quickly turned the TV off so I didn’t have to be distracted at seeing my image there. He then started the twenty questions game (along with occasional interruptions from mom) until he was finally satisfied I wouldn’t intentionally embarrass my parents dressed as Jane if someone called round to see them (or me). He laid out quite strict ground rules for the appearance of Jane, which I was quick to agree to, not noticing the angry look coming over my mom’s face.

When dad said, “Since you’ve got the rules in your head now young lady, you can be Jane of a weekend”, I simply nodded my head in agreement, especially since he would still allow me, or Jane, to use the recording studio whenever I/she/we wanted, as long as it wasn’t being used at the time. Mum however didn’t seem to be satisfied with any of this.

“Excuse ME Daniel (my dad), don’t I get a say in any of this?” mom asked. “I kind of like the idea of having another female influence around the house dear. For sixteen years, I’ve been up to my neck in masculinity around this house and I have to tell you, I’ve liked having a daughter to speak with tonight. And you know I always wanted us to adopt a girl after we found out another baby was dangerous for me.”

“So for that reason Dan I’m not willing to let Jane only be allowed to turn up on weekends. Not by a long shot mister.” Dad seemed quite surprised although mum was nowhere near finished speaking yet. “Honey, she’s already told us that she’s not sure about her future, but that she likes where she in right now. But I’m not personally willing to allow Jane to be in the house at all” and I slumped back in my chair not realising until now that mom had actually NOT really liked Jane at all this evening and had only been appearing to behave like she did so as to make me feel less embarrassed.

“No, I’m not willing to allow Jane to stay in this house and that’s final” and then mom smiled…..”Unless it’s all the time or when she has company that she doesn’t want to know about her. I want a daughter Dan, and I’m not willing to lose the one sitting infront of us and that’s final”.

She looked over at me and told me “I want the two of us to go shopping for some clothes tomorrow”, adding that I could take Friday off school (almost unheard of by mom). Wow….. I wasn’t going to argue and dad must have thought the same because he meekly surrendered his rules about Jane being around the house, all to mom’s satisfaction.

She winked at me and smiled the sign of a mother and daughter understanding, before telling me that she had better not see me as anything other than Jane, except on school days, where I’d be expected to change into Jane’s clothes, as soon as I got home.

When I was going upstairs to bed, mum called out that she had something for me and that she’d be up in a moment. Once upstairs I carefully put away my clothes, leaving my blouse out for hand washing in the morning, which was unusual because I’d normally have had to wash it while I showered and hang it up behind the closet to dry. I’d just got changed into my pyjamas and was headed for the bathroom to take off my face, when mom’s voice from behind the door announced she was coming in.

As soon as she closed the door she said, “I thought so Jane, I didn’t see a nightie in your closet to sleep in”. Mom then handed me something soft and flimsy. It turned out to be a pastel green coloured short nightie with matching bottoms in a polyester fabric, as she informed me we’d be buying a few more sleep outfits for me to wear tomorrow. I waited for mom to leave but she didn’t move an inch. “Well go on honey, put the nightie on for me” which had me telling her she had to leave first, which was my first mistake in almost four hours.

“I’m your mother Jane and I birthed you, changed you, looked after you when you were sick and god knows what else, till you were almost 14 and I can assure you that you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. Besides which, tomorrow you’ll be getting almost naked undressing infront of women you’ve never met before, so consider this a rehearsal. Strip missy or I’ll change my mind and no more Jane or any new clothes” I was tersely informed. So I did, in-front of my mom’s penetrating stare and for whatever reason I’d had of being worried about being naked infront of my mom, seemed to disappear.

“Well you don’t take after your father I’m here to tell you Jane. You haven’t got much down there honey, but don’t feel too bad, because it’ll make it that much easier for you to wear girl’s tight jeans and shorty shorts dear. We’ll just have to see about helping you out up top” gently cupping my left chest, “and don’t expect me to turn you into an oversized bimbo either. I should think a B cup would be just about right for you.” Once I was changed into the nightie and panties, I revelled in the soft slinky feel before mum asked me to show her how I took my make up off, telling me to follow her to the bathroom across the hallway, which I meekly did. My behaviour just then seemed to bring a smile to her face.

Once in the bathroom mum explained to me how a girl should have a moisturising regimen, none of which I had any idea about, which I was informed I would now do so from that night onwards religiously, or face having my derriere tanned red, my mother sternly assured me. As I dried off and led mom back to my room, I got into bed where she gave me a kiss on the cheek and tucked me into bed, (mom hadn’t done that since I’d been 12 years old) wishing me pleasant dreams as she closed the door.

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Usually my alarm went off at 7am every morning. So mom’s voice outside my door, telling me to get showered and dressed was something of a rude awakening. It was nothing compared to the shock of having my mother help me to get dressed though. My wardrobe consisted of only 3 pairs of panties and I’d used one of those last night. So I had to try on both pairs before mum decided which one would be best for today.

I then had the humiliation of having my mom carefully push my testicles up inside me before telling me to strip again, then making me go with her into the bathroom. There she turned on the cold water and taking the shower wand, directed it over my groin. My natural walking gait was already sensitive, (with my testes forced up inside me) so along with an obviously placed nearby ice cube on the window sill, then placed it in the palm of her hand, before sliding it over my now shrunken to almost nothing penis as well as around my groin.

When I slipped into the pair of panties mum chose for me to wear, the front of my panties were almost flat. To be safe mum demonstrated to me how a sanitary napkin in my underwear would remedy even that and pulling my knickers down around my knees, proceeded to demonstrate how to do this in the future, before pulling said knickers up around my hips again.

“I can’t wait to take my daughter to buy her first bras” she excitedly told me, “but first we have to get you some help up there”. When she had chosen from my very limited clothes selection what I was to wear today, she told me to get myself ready while she went and got dressed. When Jane walked into the kitchen, dad was there eating breakfast. He approved of the clothes I was wearing and asked me to tell my mom not to put him in the poor house shopping for me today, before heading off to the studio next door.

About two hours later, I was walking alongside mum through a shopping centre twenty miles from our house, nowhere near our regular shopping mall. Mum first of all took me to a Target department store, where after looking at several types and styles of bra purchased one which she told me would allow me to be able to be fitted for breast forms elsewhere, saying once I had those we could go shopping for much nicer bras to wear.

Mom then guided me to a prosthetics store that specialised in women who had had mastectomy operations, telling me that she along with the store manager were going to help me select the best type of breast forms for me to wear. Mom simply took the newly bought brassiere out of the small plastic Target bag and placed it in my trembling hands, for me to hand over to the store manager who would then show me how the different types of inserts looked inside my brassiere’s cups. When mom and I finally walked out of the store I was proudly supporting (actually it was my bra which was doing all the supporting) a pair of B cup soft gel breast inserts.

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I’d always heard of the phrase “shop till you drop” but never understood how it had originated. By the time mum drove out of the shopping mall’s carpark, we’d spent almost 5 continuous hours trying on clothes, shoes, bras, wigs, makeup in any store that sold women’s fashions located in the mall, that saw my dad’s bank account diminishing by well south of $3,500, before mum was satisfied Jane had enough clothes to get by with, qualifying that by saying “at least for the immediate future”.

When I got home and upstairs to my room, mum helped me rearrange my closet space there. Then getting me to help her, got an old set of drawers down from out of the attic, so I would have enough clothes space to put all my new clothes away. I was then instructed to take a shower and get dressed in whatever outfit mom placed on my bed for me to wear, which was what dad and Mr Jeffries saw me in when they came into the kitchen at about 3pm for a celebratory winding up session drink.

Mr Jeffries seemed surprised to see me there, before he finally recognised who the girl who had recorded his song was. Mom thinking quickly introduced me as Jane Seymour (her maiden name) which after his first scotch and water saw him “telling” dad, that he wanted to take him and me back into the studio to listen to the tracks he had recorded. Mom was invited along as well.

Dad reluctantly agreed, although privately displaying both to mom and I his displeasure over having to do what Tank asked him. But fifteen minutes later dad was again wearing his studio manager face as he played each track. At the end of it, Tank asked me if I’d like to do a “one off” of another of his songs and asked me which one I’d like to record, which he suggested I could then add to any demo tape resume for any future auditions I had to attend.

He calmed my father’s protestations by infront of dad, immediately phoning up the same talent manager who organised his own studio time with dad and asking if he could over run his cost budget by another $1,000, because he had spotted someone worth listening to and that the record company would get first right of refusal!!

What eventuated over the following FOUR hours and after several changes and additions to dad’s original master recording of Tank’s music was that Tank Jeffries deemed me to be an emerging talent that he wanted me to sign a letter of intent so as to allow him to become my manager and agent.

Dad quickly quashed any of that on the head, telling Tank that I was simply at best a background musician and he was being paid to produce a hit album for one Tank Jeffries. Besides my dad informed him, if Tank allowed Jane Seymour to record a version of one of his songs, he’d always be getting the royalties share as writer if any of the three songs I’d recorded was ever played on air.

The songs I chose to record of Tank’s weren’t the ones he wanted me to sing. I had far different and wider musical tastes than Tank and thought the two songs I chose were also his poorer efforts, which he wouldn’t object to if either didn’t get released commercially. I had already decided to sing one in a slower tempo and the other in a faster tempo, ala The Girls Next Door “Slow Boat to China”.

Dad (along with Tank) learnt just how much I actually knew about studio mixing, while Tank also marvelled at my “virtuoso” (his words not mine or my dad’s) musical instrument playing ability. Mom willingly helped out with additional harmonies, which was a surprising first for me, as I had no idea until then, that mom had actually been a singer herself when she was much younger.

Tank said he would have preferred to have had his own musicians backing me, but since they’d already packed up and left, he settled for dad and me breaking down the original recorded track and rejigging it to suit my amended two versions. It should have ended right there that night, but Tank demanded a copy of each of my two finished versions along with my first recording, which unknown to dad or I, he eventually passed along to the talent manager who had initially arranged his recording sessions with dad.

When I finally got into bed that Saturday evening around midnight, the buzz from both the recording session as well as shopping with my mom still had me having trouble closing my eyes and getting to sleep. If I could have, I would have always wanted every day to be just like that Saturday. Mom and dad for the rest of the weekend got to enjoy having Jane around the house instead of Michael. Mom treated me like her own life sized Barbie doll the next day, while dad felt he had to be extra protective towards me, especially when he took mom and me out on Sunday night for tea.

To say school on the Monday was a huge let down, would have been understating the situation. I’d enjoyed being Jane so much over the weekend, that then to have to go to school as Michael had me asking mom to let me stay home (just for today “pretty please”). But mom was adamant about my attending school, although I think she felt my disappointment. But she reminded me that I always had home to come back, to where Jane could explore her new found freedom.

And I did too. As a matter of fact from then on I led two separate lives. The 1st was as Michael, a 16 year old schoolboy who existed Monday to Friday during school term hours. The 2nd was Jane who lived during the times I wasn’t at school or involved in school activities. Even then Jane was somewhere nearby, usually in the form of my underwear which saw me wearing women’s underwear almost all the time under Michael’s clothes except if it was Gym day at school.

Dad and “definitely” mom were now accustomed to Jane’s presence around the house. Apart from my now much closer relationship with my mom, it saw even my dad inviting his newly found daughter into his studio after hours where he’d play the music recorded that day, asking for my opinion on something or other which almost always ended up with the two of us jamming privately, or else reworking parts of recorded songs to see how they sounded under another type of musical arrangement. I’d say that about 1 out of 5 of our arrangements ended up in the final master tape, which was kind of thrilling in itself.

Dad also, recklessly in my opinion, introduced me to musicians he was working with as Jane Seymour, a student looking at trying to work her way into the industry, without any thought about my nervousness at possibly being “outed”. It never helped my cause when he’d often get me to go sit in the recording area and ask me to play a particular part of a song on the guitar, using the studio’s speaker to tell me what he wanted to hear played.

Usually the recording artist and his backing musicians were by then sitting back in the sound booth listening and giving their own opinions to the ideas dad was floating to them. The experience was both an adrenalin rush as well as terrifying at the same time. I both loved and feared it, but also found it addictive and just couldn’t say no to ever doing it.

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But after about two months of this Jane was so much at home helping dad after hours in the recording studio, that I sometimes caught him looking at me in ways fathers should never look at daughters. I don’t think it was sexual arousal. It was more the sort of thing where a guy looks at a girl and wonders what they wore under their clothes, which I used to be guilty of myself more often than I’d care to admit, with girls at school.

Sometimes dad confirmed my thinking, usually when he thought he’d been caught out and he’d remark on the outfit I was wearing. He’d say the clothes I had on either suited me, or sometimes that they were a bit risqué and I should never wear them when there were clients in the studio.

What I never expected to have happen, since it was several months since Tank Jeffries recording session had ended, was to have dad inform me one evening that Crazy Music Recordings seemed to like my tape Tank had sent them and someone was coming out to talk with me and my agent.

That was when dad informed me that “he” was now my agent and that he didn’t want to lose a possible source of new income from using his studio facility, by saying he couldn’t get back in touch with Jane, or that I was really his son dressed as a girl who sang well and did illegal covers on artist’s rejected song takes!

Mom was as reluctant as I was about meeting up with a recording company’s talent manager dressed as Jane. Like dad she thought I might have had a gift (of sorts) musically, but still felt things were moving way too fast for any of us to control anything that my happen from the guy coming here to see me and dad. Dad didn’t push her, but showed me the persuasive manner that had served him so well in life, by finally getting mum to agree to the meeting and helping me to prepare for it.

And so it was that eight days later (again on a Friday afternoon) Jane, her agent “and his wife” met with Rick Daring of Crazy Music Recordings. Mom and dad had spent most of the previous Saturday and a lot of Sunday helping me to record several more songs for Rick to hear. My agent’s wife (mom) continued to wow me, both with her vocal singing abilities which had been long dormant, as well as her ability to make smart suggestions as to phrasing or harmonising. Dad felt the same way I did and often asked her for ideas before I had the chance to do so.

The four songs I added to the three I’d done with Tank’s permission, allowed dad to present a wide spectrum of commercial music tastes for the Crazy Music Recordings manager to choose from. This would normally have been a foolish mistake, but dad was keen to show off not so much my talent, as his own for being able to produce different genres from the same recording artist. Dad also wanted to create a sample disk he could then offer to clients about using me as a local backing musician that would see me get paid for playing on recording sessions…….(financially smart for me)

The meeting turned out to be anticlimactic as although Rick said he was interested in signing an E.O.I. (expression of interest) agreement with me after hearing my demo tape, said the main purpose of his visit was actually to arrange to send a lot more work to dad’s recording studio at an agreed rate, so that Crazy Music Recordings had another small independent recording studio they could send potential artists to, to get their initial recordings on tape.

Mom took an admittedly dejected Jane Seymour away with her and left Rick and dad to hammer out an agreement in writing over the charging rates per day to use dad and his facility. I wasn’t sure how to handle what had happened because I’d been privately hoping that I’d be offered a “multimillion dollar recording contract" and had instead been introduced to “Reality Street”. After Dad saw Rick off he came in to tell mom and I what had eventuated.

He also explained to mom and me what the E.O.I. meant I could do, with dad’s help. It turned out the E.O.I. would enable me to record 5 songs using dad’s studio, which while being paid for by Crazy Music Recordings would then be owned by them for distribution commercially via retail outlets or electronically. Either way I’d get royalties off of any songs purchased after the first 10,000 overall sales (to recover my initial recording costs since they’d be paying dad for his time using the studio). So at least I’d get to record some more songs and then. Hey, who knows what could happen.

The following Tuesday saw me coming home from school to come back down stairs after changing into Jane and have dad tell me (he’d already spoken to mom) about how his studio now had a solid 4 months of booked out recording time, thanks to Crazy Music Recordings which was absolutely brill. Dad told me that with my school’s long break coming up, he’d like me to be available to play on sessions as required, which I’d get reimbursed for by his company, once I was a signed union member of the local artist’s guild which he handed me the filled out paperwork for, needing only my signature.

A Different Key – This time A flat major

Previous chapter - The following Tuesday I came home from school and changed into Jane before heading back to dad’s studio. That evening at dinner he told mom and me about how his studio now had a solid 4 months of booked out recording time, thanks to Crazy Music Recordings which was absolutely brill. Dad said that with my school’s long break coming up, he’d like me to be available to play on sessions as required, which he told me I’d get reimbursed for by his company once I was a signed union member of the local artist’s guild. He then got up and left the table for a moment before coming back and handing me a large bundle of forms I’d need to fill out and sign to apply for union membership.

A flat major

The amount of paperwork dad gave me to read that I’d need to fill out and sign just to become a member of the Musician’s Union seemed ridiculous. Then I’d need to wait for the union to vet all the information I supplied on the forms and decide Yay or Nay about my application and if I’d been successfully approved for union membership. IF I was deemed acceptable for membership, I’d then have to hand over $600 (which I didn’t have) just for the privilege of being a probationary (6 month period) member.

To my total and stunned amazement dad had been adamant in telling me after I’d signed the EOI with Crazy Music Records, that until I could show him a current paid up union membership card he wasn’t even going to allow me to operate any controls in the studio let alone play an instrument there, even if I only wanted to play and record something there for my own enjoyment. It seemed he was being extremely unfair because after all I’d never had to worry before about being a union member when I used his studio or even play on any of the tracks he recorded for that matter and I’d never thought of dad of ever being a “union” supporter or even a member of one for that matter.

When I finally received by return post my membership card about 4 weeks later, my comment “Well hallelujah brothers and sisters and praise the lord……. big deal” had dad laughing loudly about my personal opinion on Union membership. As soon as he saw it he reverted back to being the “dad” I knew and loved as he began (at rapid machine gun fire) offering suggestions as to songs I might like to consider recording, what to choose for the musical accompaniment, whether to have mum sing back up or not now I had become a carded musician.

I’d been using the time while waiting for my membership to improve myself as Jane and had been seriously discussing a lot of things with mum since that first fateful night. It was now almost three months since my parents had first seen and met Jane and as much as dad still wasn’t entirely sure about her, she was living here 24/7 apart from school day hours.

Mom didn’t mind in the slightest. In fact she quickly grew to love the idea of having a daughter to care for and help. It appeared that it was now Michael who was struggling to cope with life, while Jane (Seymour) was blooming. Jane’s clothes wardrobe for instance was now quite voluminous in quantity (as well as quality) thanks to mom and I now almost never went out anywhere with her except as Jane. Most of my Michael clothes now consisted mainly of “metrosexual” styles, as school didn’t have a designated uniform as such which it seemed was the only place Michael ever went to now.

My hair style appeared more undefined perhaps genderless would be the appropriate term for it as mom encouraged me to grow my hair out longer and thicker. My eyebrows were also now more subtly feminine shaped and because of mom’s insistence on a regular nighttime moisturizing regimen of my face as well as exfoliating my body, Michael definitely looked and cut a less “masculine image” (for want of a better term) in public.

As to how my circle of friends took to the new Michael? I’d say the net result achieved about the same results overall. By that I mean I lost most of my dorky male school friends and countered it by about the same number of girls and guys who liked the appearance and mannerisms of the new Michael and spoke with me. That alone brought about a widening schism between me (Michael) and any hopes of ever being accepted by the general school populace overall.

For those of you who have never understood (or cared) the schoolyard hierarchy ladder (and if you never understood or cared you really must have been either brain dead or a mindless vegetable), the ladder shows Jocks and Cheerleaders at the top, their close friends along with hangers on a rung or two below, then a few rungs lower down the “Drones” or the majority of the student body (including teachers) at school. Then there were the Brainiacs and Nerds about ten rungs below the Drones. Fifteen rungs below even them were “the Pathetics” and last and least were “the Weirdos” which amounted to absolute social suicide at school.

The new Michael fitted in somewhere between the ladder rungs of the Brainiacs and the Pathetics. that meant I’d lost the friendship of most of the other guys who like myself simply wanted to be left alone to make our own choice of school friends and not have to pay homage to the school’s social elite publicly, while silently acknowledging their superiority over all that breathed at school.

Unfortunately I’d replaced it with guys of questionable masculinity who were treated worse than any weirdo, along with a lot of girls most of whom could only dream of being socially acceptable by a cheerleader but until then, chose to offer their friendship (along with opinions on style) to there just as socially outcast lesser school brethren. The slang term used most often around school to describe girls who liked effeminate men was “fag hags”.

I just wished that the effeminate guys now talking to me hadn’t be so open about it! But I actually enjoyed talking to the girls, some of them who were quite attractive if now socially outcast due to poorly timed comments or spoken opinions. So overall I now spoke to a lot less guys than I used to and replaced those with gay students as well as a few socially inept lonely girls who simply like to talk and gossip with other students.

With every new day, Jane became more confident and happy as if she’d always existed. And each day at school Jane (as Michael) would have loved to have been able to talk to the other girls about fashion and makeup. Every girl at school wore make up to some extent, but some of the girls while still pretty with the makeup they wore, could’ve been absolutely drop dead foxes if I’d been able to show them how to apply their makeup differently. That and a bit of thought as to the clothes they wore often had me bursting at the seams to say something, although saying something might well have been the end of my secret. Still just once I wished I could have gone shopping with some of them on a weekend instead of having to patiently listen to them relate their shopping experiences most lunchbreaks.

When as Jane I was out somewhere I’d often watch one or more of my female school friend’s walk past me subtly inspecting what another female “opponent” was attired in or what makeup I had on. It still amazed me how none of them appeared to know that the girl they were walking past was Michael in feminine attire. I was also grateful that our school social ladder rung also deterred visiting other people’s places and seeing their parents, as more often than not mom was usually with me and sometimes even dad shopped with us.

Those trips were a hoot because dad often walked around humming a melody or quietly singing lyrics to a song he’d recently recorded and more often than not, either mom or myself or both of us would just as quietly provide either the accompaniment or an alternative one and walk along with a subtle melodic feminine sway to our gaits, occasionally breaking out into sounds loud enough for others to hear nearby. This almost invariably had the other one, sometime both of us quickly letting the others know to tone it down and keep it silent. The number of weird looks we got from people nearby watching us didn’t seem to bother any of us in the least, although it usually saw a curtailment of the silent music jams for a short while until some melody popped into one or the other of our heads and saw us doing it all over again, just a lot further on down the shopping precinct.

The longer Michael fought with Jane for existence, the weaker I became while Jane grew stronger. At school, Jane’s mannerisms were becoming more dominant paling Michael’s to the point of almost none. I regularly now mimicked the behavior of all my “fag hag” girlfriends, which because of mom’s determined assistance at home simply made it seem easier to go with the “Jane” flow.

Mom was also providing me with (secretly agreed to) female hormone supplements. My entire body chemistry was slowly beginning to change from male to female. Everything about my external appearance began slowly changing such as my body hair becoming ever so slightly finer, along with the hair on my head which now had a slight sheen to it. My facial skin was also looked slightly different, which an often stray remark from a female friend, would make the other girls nearby or around me suddenly look for the change the girl had mentioned and remark on other changes I appeared to have, now more noticeable when they looked closer at me.

I pretended to appear tolerate to these sessions of observation and never outwardly showing signs of smirking. As Jane away from school, every one of my friends had seen me so often now and not realized it, that I privately wished I could have gone to school as Jane and no longer Michael. When the last day of school began, my wanting to be Jane instead of Michael grew ever stronger than before. Mom and I had begun talking about my feelings a lot recently and while mom could see how unhappy I was as Michael, asked for me not to talk to dad about it until she had had a chance to talk to him privately about things.

One thing was for certain in my own mind. Michael was on life support in ICU while Jane was trying to force the doors open to escape.

One Saturday after the start of summer break, dad and I (Jane) were shopping together with nothing particular in mind to purchase, when he diverted me into the local music store to browse a while. Inside there we encountered several groups of amateur musicians trying out instruments. Honestly most of the customers sounded terrible when they played and that’s putting it gently, but it didn’t stop dad from moving closer to a few of them and listen in.

With a head signal it was time to leave, we left the store and continued window browsing. All the while dad kept asking me questions about my school’s recording studio and radio station, which students studying music or film/sound production subjects were entitled to use both for training experience in using the equipment as well as providing in-house music for students to listen to in their earbuds or from the school speakers in the school canteen.

So far, although I’d now been an officially accredited union musician for about a fortnight, dad hadn’t mentioned when he and I would get together to start to record any of the five songs Crazy Music Records had offered to pay for. So perhaps it might have been the side trip to the music store that saw him asking me a number of questions about the school’s policy as to what music was played in-house there. He’d been openly honest (and skeptical) in telling me after I’d signed the EOI and Rick Daring had left, that he didn’t think the company would spend much money promoting any of my songs unless someone there thought they had a cash cow waiting to happen.

On Tuesday night after dinner dad quietly came into my open room while I/Jane was lying on my bed reading a magazine and without saying a word, slid some sheets of paper under my nose and lowered them till I could see they were music. He forcefully tapped two fingers on the pages of sheet music before leaving the room as quietly as he’d entered. Needless to say, Jane immediately began browsing the music then humming the melody. I already knew the song quite well, so quickly getting up to go and find dad, assumed the music he’d placed in-front of me was the song he wanted me to record.

Once I got up and corralled dad and had him tell me the obvious, we went and found mom then went and all sat down together to discuss his idea for the song.

But instead of dad starting to tell me more about the song idea he had in mind, he instead began asking me about Jane and how I was coping as her. His unexpected inquiry had me blushing as I told him how I was felling and how I felt about being Jane during the school holidays. I noted that mom didn’t say a thing as dad continued asking questions about me. Eventually mom grew tired of being a silent observer and asked dad why all the questions. His reply left me speechless!

An hour later (only interrupted by mom phoning up for takeaway) everything seemed to be decided on. Well as for Jane’s life anyway or at least her life during school hours. In just seven weeks time I’d be going back to school as Jane and Michael would be being sent to live with relatives on the other side of the country. The look of excitement and happiness on my face was matched only by my dads who continued to not only compliment me, but seemed to be genuinely thrilled for me. When mom had heard along with me why dad had been so “suddenly” converted (while never being actually “against” Jane) she was just as excited for me, not only because she was the one person who truly knew how I felt as Jane, but because dad had offered me the chance of a new life, an exciting life and along with it, the opportunity to explore whether my musical abilities might be better off down a female path.

During the takeaway meal dad expounded more on his strategy about how best to use my EOI offer for the best eventual outcome. He felt (and mom and I quickly saw his wisdom and agreed with him) we should use the 5 recording sessions, to firstly determine which was my best musical genre, and then concentrate on it. Funnily enough I’d never given the thought of a music genre to be that important, but I have to admit when dad asked me what my favorite style of music was, I had to mention several back to him. His smile and nodding head soon had him asking more detailed questions, which as Jane I tried to answer honestly (often with some help from mom for added definitiveness).

I’d never thought too much about the genre “Popular” before. But dad broke it down into sub categories and then into sub- sub categories for me, taking the time to mention several which I seemed to like and which I agreed with. Then he confused me entirely by stating I also showed a propensity towards Country and Country and Western as well as Folk. He named female artists in each genre of music, while also pointing out how women could also sing “male” songs if they chose the correct arrangement to sing.

Dad’s idea was to try and find some way to get some of my recordings played at school, trying to get students there asking local radio stations to play them and gauge the reactions to it all. Then we’d approach some of his music contacts as well as Crazy Music Records for a possible 1,3 or even 5 record contract, that they’d promote heavily because it was a financial decision and bottom line always ruled in the music industry.

As Jane, I’d also need to try and get enrolled at school to study music and possibly audio and film production classes too, because if the school radio station also aired songs with film clips, I’d be a better proposition for a program like MTV to play my song if it had a film clip, particularly if I had a recording company behind me paying for it. By the time the last of the fortune cookies was eaten, it had been decided when dad would do the first recording session. Meantime, mom and “Jane” had to work out how to sing the song dad had given me, or if we’d prefer another one to rehearse it till it felt good enough to sing instead. My eventual interpretation and singing of the song I’d select, would depending on if there was enough genuine commercial feedback, determine if that was my most suitable genre to try and capitalize on. Otherwise I had four more chances and genres we could try.

But it all turned out it to be a false start, of sorts.

Mom and I had a mother daughter talk in my room before I went to sleep that night. In her mind, Jane would find it hard to settle in at her “new” school and we wouldn’t be able to find out until I was enrolled whether I could get into a music class or even an audio or film production class. She felt I might be wiser to just get Jane settled at school first, before asking around about anything there. She said It might well be that dad’s ideas mightn’t be realistic until we knew more so the groundwork could be worked out. So the following morning we told dad at breakfast of Jane and mom’s decision and got him to nod his head and say it was a smart move to stop and see once we knew more.

Mom suggested Jane and she should spend the Sunday after lunch down in the studio while dad was still out playing golf, so that’s what we did. With a lot of patience and playbacks, we managed to record three different styles of the song Stay Awhile dad had suggested I should sing. When dad came home (on a high from winning a box of balls for nearest to pin), he joined us adding his own particular knowledge as well as instrument playing to versions 2 and 3.

Almost the entire following fortnight was spent with mom seeing our legal professionals and getting them to handle Jane’s sudden appearance. She (and therefore I) learned how the “old boys” network worked, so my “sudden” birth and appearance was covered from further investigation. That same network made my re-enrolling at school as easy as possible and also allowed me to apply for both the Audio and Film Production courses, which depending on numbers enrolled already, may still have places available. Mom and Jane spent the Wednesday before school restarted at the school’s admin office reworking my subject choice since the Audio course was already filled and on the following day did some minute school clothes shopping along with a mani-pedi for mom and me to calm any last minute nerves.

On Sunday night I thought I’d never get any sleep before having to get dressed for school, so I couldn’t believe I’d slept so long when the alarm went off the next morning. Mom came into my room after I’d showered to help me get ready. We’d both had already decided on what I should wear today so perhaps she felt her appearance here was more for comfort and steadying of nerves. It would have been too until she told me she’d put a sedative in my drink last night to help me sleep. No wonder I felt so calm still, I’d been drugged by my mom!

As I sat down at my vanity and started putting on my face, mom sat on my bed next to me quarterbacking. With her constantly reminding about “less is more”, it felt like I took twice as long as it normally took me. Perhaps that was because mom talked about her own days at school. After getting her silent nod of approval on my makeup, I started to cover the underwear I had on. Last night we’d both agreed on what clothes Jane should wear today with the idea of making nothing stand out prominently. I’d end up looking pretty (that couldn’t be helped unless I used crayons instead of makeup) but it was very important I didn’t look like a “hottie”. Asking mom if she’d ever been one had her placing her hands under her bust and lifting it slightly and telling me “damned right I was honey….hot and smokin”. Then she laughed before turning serious and needlessly reminding me that I needed to stay in the shadows for a while and stay out of the sight of the Princess Brigade, meaning the cheerleaders and any of the girls that hung around them.

That’s why my outfit’s top wasn’t too clingy and my skirt was knee length with a split flesh colored half-slip underneath that made both loose and airy finished off with a pair of black colored kitten heel shoes. My appearance was very much on par with what the girls wore during the holidays. True I had to use a new back pack for my books and things as well as a new laptop, but I was sure no one would even notice and if they did, I’d claim I lost my old one when I moved here. After I put my hair in a middle placed scrunchie mom told me I looked the personification of a typical everyday 16 year old high school junior girl. Mom then drove me to school and gave me a kiss on the cheek and best wishes, before driving off and leaving me to face my immediate future.

I walked into the school grounds slightly apprehensive while doing my best to try and see if my appearance was drawing stares or worse still students pointing their fingers towards me. After checking in with the school’s administration office to get my locker assignment, I headed for my registration room and tried to calmly allow curious eyes to glance over me along the way. Shortly after entering the room and finding a desk, the girl at the desk beside mine said hello, then offered her name before manners had me give her my own name and the information that I’d just moved here. We did a quick check of our timetables to find nothing compatible we could share, but she did a double take at seeing my classes for advanced English, Calculus and Mathematics. I also had science, plus band, music, and film production.

I turned back round to listen to the class room’s small tinny speaker announce something that didn’t concern me while my first new school friend had already turned the other way and was talking to someone else, but hopefully not about me. The bell for first class found me being swept along in a chattering student tide through the corridors to my first official class for the day. I only hoped that I’d get a desk somewhere towards the middle of the room and not at the front…….. oh yes thank goodness, where the teacher just handed out the proposed text book for that subject along with writing a course outline on the whiteboard for everyone to copy.

Each class followed a similar pattern up until lunchtime. I’d already made a brief detour to the admin office to ask if I could be reassigned a locker closer to my main classes, which I was told would be arranged if possible and I’d be contacted if and when one could be found. By lunchtime I also committed to memory the names of five girls I’d spoken to classes this morning, although I was certain a lot more girls knew my name from talking to each other. At lunch, I was lucky enough to grab a table by myself that soon had it quickly filled with other girls I’d seen from classes this morning, so this was how I made my first introductions.

My timetable showed that every Monday would be the only day I’d have entire afternoons devoted to elective subjects. Every other day would see only my final three periods related to my electives Music, Film Production and Band, with band always being the last subject each day. It also wasn’t too surprising I suppose to see that some of my other advanced classes students also took music related electives, but it was when I saw that of the other five I now knew visually (if not at first the four girl’s names) only one of them was a guy - Brad. But our band class was made up of about 45 boys of varying ages (including Brad) along with only 5 girls.

I’d only listed Band as an elective after I’d been notified that Audio Production course was already filled and had no idea as to what Band entailed, so I hadn’t bought an instrument with me to class. Not because I couldn’t have as I had quite a choice at home in dad’s studio which I could play. But everyone else today had bought their instruments, so I was looking at having to risk the teacher Mr. Carmichael select something for me to play or else I’d have to offer a suggestion. Since I’d never attended a Band class before (or Music either for that matter) I assumed there’d be a few students there who’d be first timers and wouldn’t have brought their own instruments. Guess I was wrong there!

As the other students knew what instruments they were to play and had been involved in the school’s band for several years, they only needed to stand/sit in the position in the band while I was left standing alone looking at everyone else look back at me. Mr. Carmichael already knew me from his Music class and he knew I could at least play the piano, but he was also keen to get on with the double period and must have expected all the students to have bought their instruments along, which meant Jane was soon facing my worst fear of a first day at school with sarcasm or ridicule being directed at me publicly by another student or a teacher. I hurriedly searched the huge music room for an instrument and spotted a decrepit and badly beat up old Xylophone (unlike the one in dad’s studio) leaning up against the back wall, which I quickly went and managed to carry over while being told by Mr. Carmichael where to place it at the back of the band, which regrettably turned out to be near the students playing drums.

While everyone was getting settled in place, he loudly zinged “are you ready to be part of the band now Miss Seymour” as he stepped up onto a conductor’s dais, announcing the music he wanted everyone to play and begin beating time with his baton. If one of the boys playing drums hadn’t quickly given me his music stand with the music score pegged to it, I would have had to interrupt Mr. Carmichael before the band even began playing.

From the playing of the first note, a horrible sound of almost 50 instruments playing off key and out of both tune and tempo started. What amazed me most was when the instrument playing finally stopped he said it was quite good for a first day back effort! How any classes nearby could have conducted lessons was beyond my imagination.

If this was what I had to look forward to of a Monday (and any other day) from now on, I just hoped we’d never get asked to play something for the public. Mr. Carmichael’s critiques of the performance while trying not to be spiteful to anyone he spoke to, should have been directed entirely at the band’s drummers. They were not only out of time and overly loud drowning out most of the band’s instruments, but had no idea as to the drum beat that was needed for the piece we just played. Instead they got a collective “good work, you just need some fine tuning boys”.

Before Band ended however, Mr. Carmichael handed me a glazed plastic bag holding a purple colored mothball smelling bundle of clothing along with a number of music scores with the instruments marked on them as to what note they needed to play. I was informed I needed only to learn the first two lines of each page of manuscript probably because Mr. Carmichael hadn’t even considered the concept of an old Xylophone being played in Band.

Until I learned which bus went to what area, mom said she’d arrange to pick me up and drive me to school. Our drive home on my first day at school was done with every window opened to try and smother the mothball reek. I spent it telling my mom about how Jane had gone in each class (which included lunch).
When the car stopped outside our garage, mom told me to go hang out whatever was in the bag and she’d wash it tomorrow and have me try it on for size. Afterwards I spent almost an hour telling mom all about what Jane had done today at school which had both mom and I satisfied Jane had survived her first day, well except for Band class I suppose she had.

Unlike last night mom didn’t do anything to my late night drink to help Jane sleep this time. Instead I simply went over everything in my head about today before I drifted off to sleep. I woke up the next morning and silently cursed to myself about forgetting to tell dad some answers to some of his questions about the school’s studio he’d asked me to find out.

And just like yesterday morning, mom greeted me when I walked back to my room with my damp towel tied up just above where my false B cups were glued onto my chest. Unlike yesterday though, mom didn’t help me with my clothes this morning. She simply winked as I put on a nicer set of underwear than the ones I’d worn yesterday. But I was careful about my outer clothes though. Jane normally wore a short denim skirt or tight jeans around the house during the holidays just ended, but I was still frightened about someone seeing Michael through the clothes and makeup, so I simply held out a pair of denim jeans for mom’s opinion and saw her nod her head in approval. The kitten heels I wore yesterday still matched this outfit so I needed nothing more than a pair of anklets to ensure my shoes didn’t blister my feet. Unlike yesterday I left putting on my face until I was dressed and decided when I put it on, to concentrate a little bit more around the eyes than yesterday. The silent look from mom as I finished up was worse than one of her arguments, so I turned back to the mirror and did just enough with my eye makeup to lessen the impact my smoky eyes attempt had left.

The drive in this morning left me a little early for registration so I spent the time sitting on one of the benches surrounding the base of a shade tree. Quietly meditating I was startled when a couple of the girls I’d talked to at lunch yesterday sat down either side of me and said hello and started talking with me. Before I realized it, I was in the middle of hearing about something Julie and her boyfriend did on the weekend when the bell went for registration class ending this important girl goss session.

Unlike yesterday which was mainly about handing out text books and course notes, today was the real start to the learning year. The desks I’d chosen for English, Calculus and Mathematics classes yesterday were already taken by others and surrounded by other desks with students quietly talking to one another until called to be silent. So as I spotted an empty desk I’d inquire as to whether it was taken, before by default I was eventually sitting among three other seemingly refugee students.

I hadn’t tried in any way to flout myself in any of my previous classes today (I was at pains to not even ask a question heaven forbid ), yet during Science, I discovered I didn’t necessarily need to parade myself to attract people. Our science teacher Mr. Morris was a favorite teacher of mine and in previous years in science class he’d always made it a point of trying to even out the benches with a fair mixture of students in an effort to avoid rowdy tables as well as to spread the brains around the room.

Each year he always allocated the best and brightest students first and any benches that held a “hottie” always had very quiet (but still audible) cheers or groans made as names were called out to sit at that bench. Since he had no idea that Jane had been one of his brightest and best, I had to stand among the others waiting to hear the bench I was allocated to. It allowed me to quietly peruse those already seated and I might have detected the barest sign of a return look directed at me. When I was eventually allocated (bench 6) I clearly heard a few male comments of hope. In the end I was the only girl on our 4 person bench and I spent most of the lesson trying to listen to Mr. Morris while attempting to discreetly answer whispered questions directed at me from my bench mates.

It was the same during the Film Production class. Normally the students doing this subject had done so since their sophomore years and knew who they wanted to sit with or team with. Being one of three other students who were doing the subject in their more senior classes this year for the first time, I was surprised to find myself being invited to join several working groups and eventually chose Brad’s group because we shared band and Music as well. At lunchtime the following day I learned through the girl grape vine I’d chosen badly and should have chosen another group to work with.

Today, music with Mr. Carmichael was alright and I found myself in a small study group there by process of elimination (chance) as he simply called my name and mentioned another girls name that I recognized from band class coming up next. My last class each day, Band, was almost as bad as yesterday except that today the emphasis was on relearning (or in my instance learning) about Band drill marching “foot cadence”.

Now I had all the answers to questions dad needed, at dinner this evening I told mom and dad all about how music was selected to be played on air at school as well as about how the school hired out filming equipment to students of a weekend, provided they supplied a $1,500 security deposit either in cash or by credit card. On hearing about all the rules relating to the music selection dad asked me to find out more about the procedure relating to how a CD or a memory stick was lodged with the studio before announcing that the three of us might try and get my first recording done this coming Sunday and he was pleased with mom’s and my agreement about his choice of song form me.

When dad had first handed me the music to for my first recording, I knew how it sounded because I’d heard it played through the home’s music speakers several times while I’d been growing up. Stay Awhile had been first recorded more than 40 years before I was even born and even my mom hadn’t been born when it had been recorded. I’d looked the song up on the net and read that’d been a sort of “hit” at the time. Dad’s strategy for choosing it was that with the recent wave of nostalgia still fresh in people’s minds, Jane should record it not so much for any possibilities of it becoming a hit once again, but more to determine which style of music might suit my vocal range, which he said when he’d first heard Jane’s voice, had quiet an extraordinary octave spread from tenor baritone through to soprano.

On Sunday morning Dad and I spent several hours playing the instruments needed for the melody, while mom sat at the console recording and mixing it all. When dad was satisfied the melody sounded right he started on the vocals after lunch. But almost 7 hours later, none of us were entirely happy with the end result. Mom finally announced we’d have to think about it a bit more and try to get back to it when dad had another break in his work schedule.

Perhaps I felt a bit drained (or was it disappointed) that the session hadn’t been perfect and I’d known that feeling before more than once or twice before, but unlike dad or mom for that matter, “Jane” didn’t know how to handle it the right way. Mom found me quietly crying to myself in my bedroom later while I was getting ready for bed. It took she took some time for her holding and hugging to work till I was cried out. Those hormone supplements of mom’s were certainly beginning to play havoc with my emotions.

Even the following morning I woke up still not emotionally settled. My face showed red swollen eyes that mum needed to show me a way to remove the puffiness from. Luckily we had a cucumber in the fridge’s vegetable crisper or I would have looked a mess at school. Classes that day felt like being in a funeral procession, slow and frustrating. The only bright spot in the day turned out to be lunch where I seemingly gained another new friend among the girls. All I can say is thank goodness for guys, fashion and music for lunch today because it was all I we talked about as we ate.

I ended a terrible school day by getting the school bus home. I’d found out which bus went closest to our street and mom seemed glad she wouldn’t have to drop me off or pick me up from school from now on. During the day mom had apparently washed my band uniform, because she announced after dinner, I’d need to try it on so she could get any adjustments pinned so a tailor could sew it to make the uniform fit properly.

Over the years I’d seen the school’s band uniform often enough to know why everyone hated it. Well not everyone hated it. Most of the band’s musicians seemed to like them although style and fashion degrees couldn’t have been among their knowledge attainments. Perhaps they thought the tag “Purple People Eaters” was something to be proud of. Admittedly our school’s sport’s teams liked the tag, but they would, they were jocks. I’d often hear the sarcasm used by students when talking to or about the band member’s uniforms as well as the marching girl’s outfits.

When I tried on Jane’s band jacket and trousers after mom’s washing the smell out of it, all my fears of being publicly outed became more real. Even with the alterations to make it less tent like, I dreaded the expected verbal (and therefore visual) attention I’d get once I turned up at school wearing the uniform. Mom said she’d get it retailored before Friday coming, which was when the band was to do a dress rehearsal that also entailed a photo for media purposes. When I tried on the altered uniform Thursday night, mom was almost ready to call 911 after I began hyperventilating badly and it took a lot of calming hugs and soothing words with her promise we’d go and see the tailors she’d used again on Saturday before I calmed down.

On Friday I rode to school on the bus with my plastic covered uniform hanging off the overhead head grab rail. Even that didn’t stop me from receiving a lot of sarcastic comments and taunts. Two of the Band members boarding the bus did so wearing their uniforms (the idiots) and they faced more ridicule than I could have ever imagined. At school I asked the ladies in admin if I could leave my uniform there till final period and learned it was the usual procedure.

The uniform aside for a moment, my worst fears about Michael being uncovered as Jane didn’t seem to be happening. In fact, everything that I hoped for about becoming Jane was actually starting to happen instead. I now had a lot more genuine friends (admittedly mainly girls) than I used to have as Michael (towards the end “You Hoo Michelle”) and I even spoke with a few straight guys as well. Brad (yuck) was one of those guys, but he unfortunately for me had some type of fixation about me that caused him to walk over and interrupt conversations with others I was talking with to discuss meaningless things. But opposite to him was Curtis, who even among my girlfriends was considered a hunk. He was another boy besides Brad that was talking to me more often than normal, which my girlfriends told me meant he was building up the courage to ask me out.

Scholastically, it didn’t take long for Jane to come to her teacher’s attentions either. My advanced classes had already had to lodge homework assignment essays, which had earned me A’s and even an A+ that now saw me being asked by teachers for answers to questions in class. Mom and I talked about that almost every night now and how I needed to avoid certain pitfalls if I was to make Jane’s newly found public attention in classes work in my favor. And each morning mom still kept a watchful eye over my school attire to make sure I was doing my best to keep out of the firing line of the Princess Brigade along with other bullies. None of the cheerleading girls spoke to me still, although a couple of the ones in my own year would raise a hand casually if they passed me while I smiled and bowed my head slightly in return of their even acknowledging my existence.

Music classes were at times interesting. The knowledge required in understanding a question relating to tempos or beats of music time was certainly improving my knowledge about music. Film production classes was a learning curve since everyone else in my group had two more years of technical knowledge more than I had. It exemplified I was a novice at the subject, but I tried to use Jane’s subdued looks to get every benefit I could.

By the end of the 4th week of school, Jane was about to celebrate almost 12 weeks of life. But I would have almost given it up if I could’ve found some way to sing dad’s song differently. I’d been trying for weeks to find the different rhythm that made me sound different to the original artist’s version of the song. “That” was the problem in both mine and mom’s minds. I seemed to be trying too much to sound too not sound like Dusty and because of it was failing. I’d recorded and remixed about a dozen different versions to find some noticeable difference I could hone in on but couldn’t find one. I’d even tried the Phil Spector approach and massed the instruments to produce a “Wall of Sound” but only found it marginally and not significantly better than any of my previous versions.

I was sitting in the lounge room with the TV turned down watching a show featuring old cartoons (some of which were my favorites when I was Michael) and was slowly strumming the chords of Stay Awhile and singing the words slowly, trying to find a way to make the song not sound like Dusty singing. Mom came in the room to clear away things and stopped to listen before walking off. I finally gave up on what I was trying to think of, with the thought of another useless effort ringing in my brain while I walked to the kitchen to get something to snack on and stopped to watch mom’s frantic keyboard antics. She was using her laptop and ear buds while her fingers literally flew across the keyboard, before leaning back in the chair and exhaling a loud breath of satisfaction.

Looking up and seeing my amused look, she stood up and forcefully dragged me over to sit down in the seat next to hers before she sat back down and extracting the earbuds jack and hit the enter key. The laptop’s speaker began emitting Stay Awhile through it before mom looked at me and said “listen”. Another tap produced a tune I knew very well and along with mom started singing “I only want to be with you”. Mom again said listen and with a finger tap I was listening to the same song but now sung very much slower and sung by another woman in a different key.

“That’s what I think I heard you trying to sing a few minutes ago” mom said to me before saying we should go to the studio and see if we can make the words match the tempo. After a few long and frustrating hours, we both felt I had the right cadence and versing in sync with the slower music tempo so mom re-recorded it before we started messing around adding different instruments in places to emphasis and highlight the mood I was trying to convey. With a CD copy and one on mom’s memory stick we went back upstairs and wait for dad to get home. After dinner and with both mom and I almost bursting out of our skins, mom told dad about what we’d done while he was out, although not telling him the exact specifics of the changes, before mom handed him her memory stick and said he should play it tomorrow sometime and give us his opinion tomorrow night at dinner.

School on Mondays would have to be the worst day of the week. But even this morning getting dressed and putting on a short denim skirt to wear instead of my usual outfits, I knew that it wasn’t going to be such a bad day. When mom didn’t say a word about my skirt when I kissed her good bye and perhaps that was a sign that Jane was finally being trusted enough by mom to be able to look after herself at school. It might have been my upbeat mood while my mind was singing my version over and over again throughout the day, perhaps it was the very different skirt to any I’d worn to school before, or how everyone behaved at lunch around me. But even double Band later on didn’t faze me in the slightest.

After I got home and did my homework, all the while listening over and over again to the song I’d recorded with mom, I went to the kitchen to help mom prepare the dinner plates passing dad on the way who simply asked if I’d had a good day at school. I might have hoped he’d tell me straight away what he thought of the recording but he didn’t say a word. Even during the meal he didn’t mention it nor did mom for that matter.

After the meal was finished and I’d done my kitchen cleaning up duties I joined mom and dad in the lounge room as I would have any night I didn’t have more homework to finish. Dad put me out of my agony and talked at length about the recording. Generally he liked my slower interpretation of the song and then gave me his reasons for not wanting to submit it to Crazy Music Recordings, citing the song was a one off or perhaps part of a one off album. While he liked my version very much, if I was a professional singer and tried to sing it at concerts, it’d be very hard to replicate the studio production sound. He gave a number of professional explanations for not being able to replicate the sound live, but also felt I should add the song to my musical resume. But as a commercial genre step, he felt it shouldn’t be one of my 5 EOI recordings, with mom nodding her head in apparent agreement and perhaps after a discussion while I’d been at school.

Seeing the look of anguish coming on my face, dad suggested I could try seeing if the school radio would play it a few times to see if the students there liked it. I might also consider lodging the tape at school under a non de plume and think of the recording as a bit of a ”teaser” release recording, telling me I should think of a short catchy type of name and use it to also release some of the songs on my demo resume. This spike bought mom into the conversation along with several immediate responses about a catchy name. Dad joined in the competition and after some good humored laughter we all seemed to agree on “Emerald” as a recording non de plume.

Dad also had a few ideas for adding some of the incidental music to my recording and a few nights later after tea and in little more than an hour, the final recorded version was decided on and was now even better thanks to some of dad’s haunting piano and slide guitar additions. I went upstairs later on happy with this final result and typed up a short letter which I’d enclose a spare memory stick in with it and drop it in the box outside Mr. Carmichael’s office tomorrow.

Perhaps I could always hope and dream that dad was wrong and the recording would make me an overnight sensation, but as much as I would‘ve liked for that to happen even I knew it never would.

Previous Key played - A flat major……… Perhaps I could always hope and dream dad was wrong and the recording would make me an overnight sensation, but as much as I would‘ve like for it to happen, even I knew it never would. Whenever I could, I always tried to use Jane’s subdued but still very feminine look to get as much fun and enjoyment out of my new life as possible.

A different key - B flat major

Only recently having dropped off my “unofficial” first recording into Mr. Carmichael’s music tape box, I knew I mightn’t hear it played for some time because everyone knew about the number of potentially hopeful school student pop groups the school had and they put demonstration tapes into his box practically every few days. The box was also there for non-musical students to place requests for songs to be played on the school radio system, which because of how it was set up within the school’s educational syllabus framework, meant the radio station although not producing powerful watts of sound, still produced enough to enable people living within about a mile of the school to be able to tune in and listen to the music being played.

And under the guidelines established several years ago mainly by Mr. Carmichael along with a selected student and teacher committee, any tape made by a student of a song they had played and made themselves (even if it was done with help of a parent/s or with other current students), would always be played at least twice during the year. If the song became a popular request from enough students it was then played once a day every day for at least a month.

The guidelines also stated that any student submitting a first time tape under a stage or pen name also had to advise Mr. Carmichael that a the written submission enclosed with recording. This was so Mr. Carmichael could investigate the student’s claims (in the submission) and so prevent students not attending the school (as well as desperate hopefuls) from getting even limited airplay. Since I’d submitted my tape under my non de plume name “Emerald”, I knew it’d be quite some time before Mr. Carmichael might approach me to answer any questions about myself and the recording.

That didn’t bother me because “Stay Awhile” was no longer part of dad’s strategy in finding a music genre that best suited my skills using the C.M.R. EOI. But with dad’s time almost invariably always taken up working, it might be left to me and mom to find songs I could try to record. Dad told me that he’d at least try putting out feelers among his musician friends and other music contacts for any writers willing to supply new songs they’d like to try getting recorded, which he already begun to re-forward to my email inbox for me to look at.

The girls I rode the bus with used the time to talk about things that had taken place at school each day or things that had happened over the weekend. Two of the girls (Anne and Carmen) in Band class often took the same school bus home of an afternoon and we’d sit together in the bus and talk about the music we’d played earlier on in Band.

They said they thought the Band sounded awful (including themselves) and told me they could (just) hear my Xylophone playing sound and heard my additional musical improvisations. That brought up the subject of how I’d thought up the improvisations which had me reluctantly telling them I had a Xylophone I could practice with outside of school (but not where). That led to some whining from both girls about how difficult they found it to find the time to practice Band class music somewhere private. They said the other two girls in the band Debbie and Maree had the same problem of finding time to practice and somewhere private and quiet to do so.

From as soon as I was old enough to pick up and hold a musical instrument, dad was showing me how to play it. So it never even occurred to me that others hadn’t been taught the same way or with the same enthusiasm I received. My musical upbringing eventually allowed me (unless it was a concerto or some other piece of orchestral music) to be able to play a song or tune I heard on a radio, CD or after browsing a music manuscript in a matter of minutes on any number of instruments dad’s recording studio had. It wouldn’t then take any more than perhaps half an hour, before I was playing the song easily and sometime even beginning to toy with the song’s melody to try and find variations that appealed to me more.

So when Anne and Carmen asked me how I always appeared to be able to learn and play a piece of music so easily, I naively told them it was practice. They asked me how so. After I’d explained how Jane was able to do so, I learned how both girls belonged to families that had brothers and sisters and nowhere private they could go to practice playing. My next naïve remark about how they could try going to a park and practicing there, had me discovering how angry teenage girls can get when someone says something stupidly moronic. Anne said “and how long do you think it’d be before some boy comes over and brakes my instrument, Jane” which Carmen seconded. Another stupid question along the lines of couldn’t they practice at school saw me being castigated as they listed the reasons why that suggestion couldn’t eventuate.

When I got home and talked to mom about what we’d talked about on the bus and also about how I never seemed to go to other kids home’s as Michael or that I’d never invited friends to my home? Since the first day at school as Jane, perhaps mom might have been expecting me to eventually ask this question, because her answer literally bowled me over.

I’d arranged to meet up with the other girls in the Band at school and go shopping today. During our stroll around the shops one of the girls, Debbie, started to whine about the Band “uniforms” which we had to wear. She went on and on about it while also reminding everyone that the Band’s first public performance for the term was at the baseball team’s playoff game against a neighboring high school in a fortnight.

Even after two return visits to the seamstress with mom, Jane’s uniform still looked absolutely appalling on me. What the lady could and did do to improve my own outfits appeared on me was to clean the white trim around and down the front of the jacket lapels to make it more pronounced with a brighter and more vivid white. She explained how it was done and how to maintain it to mom when she went and picked it up on Monday. When I went to Tuesday’s Band class and walked out of the change rooms with a dazzling white trim on the front of my jacket, the other four girls might have lynched me if I didn’t hurriedly explain to them how they’d be able to get the same effect easily. Mr. Carmichael didn’t say a word although I think he noticed the vivid white trim on my jacket front.

At the next and final dress rehearsal before the baseball playoff game, all the other Band girl members turned up wearing very different looking band jackets compared to any of the boys. When we stood together in a small girl group Mr. Carmichael could suddenly see how the effects of the brilliant white trim improved the uniform’s appearance, which the previous week had only earned me a quick glance from him. But now he asked me to explain how I’d made both my own along with the other girl’s jackets stand out so much. The following week, almost every boy turned up to play at the baseball team’s playoff game sporting jackets with brilliant white trim, leaving the few who didn’t to stand out like pariahs.

That day the Band set up at the end of the bleachers well past third base and in the hot sun, to misplay our hearts out attempting to entertain the crowd and parents of both schools. The opposition Jefferson High’s band were at the end on the opposite side of the diamond up in the bleachers playing just as loudly and just as out of tune, but the most important difference between the school’s bands was that Jefferson High’s Band uniforms were ten times nicer than ours and stood out. Our school eventually lost the game but went down fighting.

Something else occurred prior to that performance. During my second visit to mom’s seamstress she took an entire set of my body’s measurements (because mom told her to but never bothered explaining it to me). It wasn’t until Thursday week after school when I walked into my bedroom to change into something more comfortable, that I saw the plastic wrap encased purple outfit draped across my bed. Before I could shout out her name, mom hurried in and started taking the plastic wrap off without saying a word. Clothes being what they are to a teenage girl soon had me joining her.

Eventually draped over the bedspread cover lay a much nicer styled and looking Band uniform than the one I had. The thin white lace trim of the old jacket’s uniform outlining the faded purple fabric had been substituted by the entire jacket front lapels now being bold white, along with shiny rows of bright buttons down the front on both sides of the jacket, while the rest of the front including the button hole stitching, sides and back of the jacket remained purple. But this purple hadn’t been dry cleaned or faded and aged to death after countless pressings. The jacket’s look reminded me of some I’d seen in movies about 19th century army and naval officers uniforms.

This uniform also came with matching trousers along with a skirt, whose length when I tried it on came down to about half way to my knees with a split at the front allowing for plenty of freedom to walk and march. The cut of the skirt did mean though, that too higher marching step might easily end up revealing my underwear if I wasn’t careful. The long trousers (that you could wear on colder days) had white trim around pocket openings both front and back as well as the cuffs on the end of the legs. Obviously a boy’s uniform wouldn’t have the skirt! Also unlike men’s trousers (and the present band uniform) these trousers didn’t have a fly at the front, instead having a small one at the back, more in line with women’s clothing. Of course mom made me pose wearing the skirt then the trousers while she took plenty of photos.

Mom also explained to me how she’d been able to negotiate a good price for a set of new outfits for the entire band if they ever wanted to purchase a set, which she told me that with some financial subsidy could very easily be afforded by the school. But if Mr. Carmichael and the school didn’t approve of the new uniform, dad business could write the cost of this individual one off as a business expense for tax purposes. I really did like how the entire uniform looked on me (even the trousers) and if I was wearing a skirt instead of the trousers, a pair of white boots would make it even better to wear. I eventually was allowed to take the uniform off but hoped that mom’s photos would do justice to the uniform when I got to show the photos to the other members of the band.

Friday afternoon Band class usually allowed for the last ten or so minutes to be spent in a jovial atmosphere with Mr. Carmichael, unless of course we were rehearsing for a public performance. Today was a dress rehearsal for the following Wednesday’s baseball playoff game, so having hidden the new uniform under my old one in the admin offices all day, it was pretty easy to be able to get changed in the windowless side room next to the music room (temporarily assigned as the female change room) but keep the new uniform out of sight till I was ready to put it on. Once Mr. Carmichael had made sure everyone’s uniforms were OK, it allowed me the opportunity to tell him about my mom’s initiative along with accompanying photos.

While I showed him the photos I also mentioned that mom had also obtained a price quote if the entire band were to be kitted out, also mentioning mom’s ideas for ways we could possibly raise enough money to be able to subsidize every band member present, while still being able to pay for hardship students too. Then telling Mr. Carmichael I had the uniform in the changing room, asked if I could go and change into it to show him.

It ended up taking about 10 minutes for me to get changed because I also had to put on a pair of pantyhose as well, along with mom’s old pair of white high cut boots. It needed a few loud “I’m not ready yet” shouts, to prevent any of the excited female band members entering the room and possibly a few of the boys.

I re-entered the music room holding the coat hangered trousers over one shoulder, which Maree took from me before I could eventually push past my female band friends and walked over to Mr. Carmichael whose face didn’t reveal anything. His first words to me though weren’t something complimentary but instead a question. Namely how much extra would it cost to buy the boots?

The boys who were almost all enthusiastic about the new uniform, asked questions only males could ask under the circumstances. Mr. Carmichael perhaps amused at everyone’s reaction to the uniform I was wearing, answered each inane question asked by a boy in his normal dry tone. “No the boys won’t have to wear white shoes Malcolm, but the uniform does look smart with the boots, if Miss Seymour’s uniform is a guide. Noooo, you won’t have to wear a skirt Mr. Parker, unless of course it's really YOU who'd like to wear one! No Robert I think the shoulder boards on the jackets look quite smart personally. No Steven I don’t feel a different colored uniform might look better since school’s colors “are” purple and white ……..

Finally he cut any further debate and questions on the head by calmly telling me to thank my mother for the fashion show and that he’d need to arrange to discuss things with the school’s finance committee at their next scheduled meeting, before possibly ever going any further down a new uniform path. He did ask me however if I’d allow him to borrow the uniform so he could show it to the Principal for an opinion, then raising his voice announced that the class could leave before the bell today and signaling for me to go get changed which I did only to return again soon to hand the plastic wrapped uniform over to Mr. Carmichael.

A few of the boys stayed around to ask me and the other girls what we thought the chances were of getting the new uniform. Jane told them and I did it publicly (because Mr. Carmichael could hear everything we were all speaking about) that I had no idea, but added I hoped we’d get permission and that we might all need to start thinking of ways to raise $6,300 if the school board did give its approval. This was immediately answered by enthusiastic suggestions for fund raising including chocolate sales, cake bake sales, car washes and several more before the other four female band members joined me in heading towards the door to go home.

Sunday morning mom had planned for her and me to do some weeding in the front garden getting ready for the coming winter months. During weeding I mentioned about how the rest of the Band girls felt about their musical instrument playing and she offered a suggestion about how I could possibly help out. Mom’s idea was for Jane to ask her girlfriends to come to my place and have a practice session next weekend or the first weekend I could get them all here together.

With that in mind Jane began wondering about the best way to show my friends around the house, particularly my own bedroom and wardrobe, which mom told me was extremely important to help the bonding, then we also needed to actually practice playing our instruments together in privacy. I’d have to do this while also not telling them about dad’s music studio setup, in-case they got upset and broke off being friends. Mom seemed to agree and said she and dad wouldn’t say a word about the studio either and she said she also hoped my girlfriends left some extra female hormones behind for me after they’d gone home.

The next day saw me talking with Anne and Carmen in the bus going to school. They were thrilled about the opportunity to do some private practice without other people being able to listen in. At lunchtime not only had my four Band classmates all said they’d love to come both for practice and a KFC lunch, the other three girls who usually ate with us asked if they could come along as well. The other three girls all attended my Music class and all played instruments, which they wanted to bring along with them if they were invited.

My first thought was to say yes, of course, but Debbie butted in before I could and said we’d(?) all planned for the day to be a private practice session, so no one would be able to her how bad some of us might sound. Debbie’s reason while certainly not entirely accurate saw the other three girls accepting they couldn’t come, but the girl growing inside me asked the table as a whole if between all of us we could all agree to another day then we’d all get together at someone’s house for a music jam and lunch.

I also asked Mr. Carmichael for the uniform back and was told he’d make sure it was available for me in the Admin office on Friday and when he asked why, I felt awkward momentarily before telling him about the Sunday practice for all the other girls in the band, that had him saying he was annoyed he wouldn’t be able to come since he was busy this coming weekend listening to all the samples in the box outside his office. He did threaten me with mock dire punishment if the female musicians in the Band didn’t start to sound any better the following week!

I don’t know why Mr. Carmichael did it but it seemed to me that for the rest of the week’s Music classes, he appeared to be concentrating or emphasizing about the areas of the orchestra that funnily enough covered all three of my friend’s instrument sections. He was particularly critical whenever one of us played a wrong note or gave an incorrect answer but at the same time seemed to enjoy himself doing it. Towards the end of Friday’s Music class it was clearly apparent (in my mind) , that all three of us had shown a marked improvement in both our practical playing and music theory in the two classes left that week he taught us. My uniform was waiting in the admin office on Friday after final bell.

When I finally got home mom quickly followed me to my room so she could check for any stains on the outfit where she spotted at least two and said she’d get the outfit dry cleaned after Sunday and my friends had tried it on. The next day saw mom and I doing the grocery shopping where she also bought me some extra makeup in my regular colors for me to share with the girls on Sunday. We also stopped in at the KFC on the way home and ordered more than enough food for the next day’s lunch.

On Sunday morning I woke up especially early so dad and I could talk about things in general before he had to leave for golf. Usually dad was already out of the house before I got out of bed because he and his golfing buddies generally opted for dawn or near to tee off times. We talked about some of the songs he’d emailed me from his music friends and wanted my opinion on them. So breakfast soon turned into a mini Q & A session with dad the quizmaster and me the contestant with the result a draw, since neither of us thought any of the songs forwarded onto me so far suited my still not yet known or defined style. We just both seemed to agree that none of the songs did and seemed happy with the agreed thinking.

After he left and mom had had breakfast as well, I hurriedly cleaned up the kitchen before heading for a shower to get ready to greet my friends. I made sure I dressed casually and hoped none of my girlfriends had changed their thinking and was now wearing something stylish. The girls started arriving around 9.30 and as each girl unloading her musical instrument bag and box along with a folder containing music manuscript from out of her parent’s car, mom made sure I went over and thanked every driver personally, while mom also did a quick “nice to meet you chat” and give an assurance she’d be staying around the house all day and agreeing on a pick up time this afternoon.

From the start after detailed introductions of each of my friends, mom became an accepted friend to the girls (although much older). Mom started instructing me needlessly about making sure to show my friends everything there is to see, which commenced with the outside back of the house where the swimming pool was as well as pointing out dad’s open “barn”, where two cars and a ride on mower were parked inside covering the (secret) recording studio below ground.

Then I shepherded them all back inside suggesting they leave their things in the lounge-room before leading them on a tour of the house, blushing in embarrassment listening to my friend’s sometimes envy tinged remarks about how lucky I was to have such and such. The cinema room had agreements being quickly reached about the eventualities of their being a movie evening some other time. My own room although nothing special had the girls oohing and arhing everything in it and saying they wanted to try on some of my outfits later on.

Mom told me when we’d been planning today’s activities to after showing the girls around the house, to then take them into the kitchen and offer out cold drinks. So after showing them the last vacant bedroom at the end of the long main corridor I led them into the kitchen where mom had prepared several pitchers of iced fruit juice and soda drinks, frost chilled empty glasses along with a plate of cookies and another of buttered fruit buns all of which with little fan fair quickly disappeared with un-lady like speed down teenage girl’s throats while loud voices told of their appreciation.

My friends all helped me to clear up the mess before we headed back to the lounge-room where we sat and began to plan how to organize the music practice. The girls took their musical instruments out of cases along with fold up music stands and placed them infront of where they were seated. Mom stood silently at the doorway watching everything as each girl began talking about which piece of music they wanted to practice first. So that first ten minutes we made a lot of raucous with the girls trying to play the same music together and it sounded just like band class at school. I’d already decided not to try and bring the xylophone up from dad’s studio and instead had brought an acoustic guitar along to practice with.

After a few more minutes of painful mistimed and incorrect notes, mom decided she’d had enough and interrupted proceedings, suggesting that I should go and get a microphone so we could get a first attempt recording done and use that as a comparison baseline. I soon had a microphone set up in the middle of a circle the girls were now formed around. Mom imperiously but kindly suggested I not play since I didn’t have my Band instrument here and to instead conduct the practice lesson, which none of my friends seemed to question. So I began by making the girls repeat playing the same piece of music again together while I recorded them.

The other girls didn’t seem to mind and even obeyed my request for them to individually play their instrument so I could then record each girl’s solo effort for comparison later on as well. I made sure to use separate disks for each girl and write their name on it. Each of my friends played a different instrument, so during the individual recordings mom must have raved down to the studio and found the same instrument and bought it back up leaving it out of sight in the kitchen, which I had no idea about until a few minutes later. When Anne had finished playing her instrument, they all looked to me expectantly for what to do next.

Mom interrupted me again and apologized to the girls while she told them that her niece Jane was actually a bit of a ring in and that if they’d leave any questions as to why for the moment, it’d all be explained later on. She turned to me and said “I think we may have to tell your friends about some of your history later on” before turning back to my friends and addressing them. “Jane keeps it a secret but she’s been fortunate enough to have been able to be shown how to play quite a number of musical instruments” turning to look me straight in the eye before adding “and she’s actually also quite good at being able to teach others too. I’m sure you girls can persuade her to help you too” then walked over to me and handed me the studio Clarinet.

Looking at me as a professor might, she told me to give my friends a demonstration on how to play the same piece of music correctly. So without stopping to think, I did, error free, melodically accurate and at the correct tempo which had all my girlfriends applauding when I finished. I proceeded to do the exact same thing with Maree (saxophone), Carmen (trumpet) and finally Debbie (Flute) music instruments, each time mom handing me a girl’s chosen instrument beforehand so deciding which girl’s stand I read from.

Mom said “Jane, do what your Uncle does sometimes with his clients” before walking off and leaving me to stand nervously afraid that the girls would ignore me now that mom was no longer there. Instead my fellow Band members looked at me with hopeful expectation written on their faces, so that encouraged me to begin what I’d seen dad do so often in his studio and which I’d been brought up being trained with as well.

I used Anne as a baseline and explained to the girls what I was going to do which none of them seemed to object to. So moving over to Anne’s music stand and standing next to her, asked Anne to play the piece again, which I played in duet. Twenty minutes later and having her play the Clarinet while I stopped her at certain times, to show her how to play the instrument easier had her finally beginning to gain the confidence to play the score without any mistakes and with feeling. As she began to realize how differently she started to sound her playing not only improved but so did her timing, and more importantly her belief in her ability as wrong notes were no longer being played. When she completed playing the music totally blemish free, an incredulous look followed by a grin of amazement showed on her face, before the other girls began enthusiastically applauding her as she turned to me and saw my nodding approval and smile.

I encouraged her to keep practicing outside somewhere then led Anne with her toting her music stand and set her up in the back yard under an awning for shade, telling her I’d get back to check on her once the rest of the girls were also practicing elsewhere. When I walked back into the lounge-room, three excited female voices enthusiastically volunteered to play for me next.

About an hour and a bit later, I set Carmen up in the far back bedroom to begin practicing her trumpet score now she was more confident in her personal belief that she could actually play without making mistakes if she genuinely tried.

Stopping off at the kitchen to open and take out several small cold bottles of orange soda I proceeded to call in at each girl’s designated practice place and hand over a cold drink and listen to her progress. What had started out in the lounge-room as mostly misplayed notes and erratic rhythm and tempo, was now replaced by very passable sounding music being played by every girl. When I got back to Anne, and handed her a cold soda bottle of orange she took a sip before excitedly asking me to show her how to play the next piece. Instead I told her “she” should try showing me how “she” played the new piece, then standing around long enough to hear her begin playing a new piece of music which didn’t sound too bad, although there were still a few wrong notes being played I told her I’d come back in a while and see how she was going. With a nod of approval I walked off towards the back door heading for the lounge-room to plan what to do next and saw mom in the kitchen sitting at the table drinking a cup of something motioning for me to join her.

Mom waited until I had gotten something cold to drink and sat down opposite her to have her tell me she was sorry for interfering in the practice, but felt it for the best if the day was to have something useful come from out of it for everyone. She asked me how the girl’s music playing was going. I told her I thought the girls were improved 500 percent already and mom said that was because Jane was there to show her friends how to play their instruments. She also suggested
I should periodically check on the girl’s practice playing, then get them inside just before lunch and record them playing their instruments again and have the girls listen to the difference themselves. So with that in mind, I went and picked up the instrument played by the girl I was planning to check on next and followed my instincts.

At about five minutes to one I went and gathered the girls together in the lounge-room and made them play their music again while I recorded it. The smell of freshly delivered KFC was a distraction, but the girls all managed to play their first two pieces and in one case even their third piece of music very well (Anne). With my suggesting we should go have something to eat and afterwards listen to the recordings again and do a Mr. Carmichael critique that had loud sarcasm being offered in response, we all headed towards a heavenly smell for lunch.

Lunch was enthusiastically commented on by the girls as they tore into it without the slightest concept of manners or decorum. After lunch we sat back and digested quadrillions of calories from lunch before we listened carefully to each girl’s music playing CD. The differences between their first solo attempt and their second recorded performances where unimaginable, so good did they sound now.

Mom sat with us and commented she was amazed how different and much better they all sounded now and although all the girls wanted to go back to more practicing right away, mom suggested another alternative that soon saw my clothes being roughly handled by my girlfriends as they held up tops and skirts and dresses infront of themselves or asked if they could try something. Mom had told me this would happen and advised me to only watch carefully and see the girls didn’t treat my things badly. She and I watched the girl’s frantic strips offs and changes of clothing as if it was the norm.

When mom went and got the new uniform and brought it back to let the girls try it on for size, even she had to shout for order and give a name that saw it being handed off to the girl nearest to the door, Debbie, to try the uniform on first. Mom thankfully led her off to her bedroom so my overcrowded room now had more space and air for everyone. Knowing that my friends would want to have photos taken wearing the uniform, I suggested we head back to the lounge-room and model there. Mom had to come in a few minutes later and ask which one was Debbie’s bag before going over and extracting an unopened packet of pantyhose then heading back to her bedroom.

By the time all the girls had finished trying on my clothes and had modeled the new uniform, wearing both the skirt along with the trousers and had photos taken for keepsakes it was almost 3pm. It’d had already been organized that the girl’s parents they’d be picked up around four so we has about forty five minutes that we going to use to allow the girls to play their music scores as a mock quartet come quintet with me accompanying them on my guitar.

Dad arriving home unexpectedly and in a happy mood after having won several prizes at golf just after 3pm, quickly and unintentionally became involved in things, mainly because of how my girlfriends all talked (at the same time) to him about how brilliant I was at playing so many musical instruments. Carmen and Debbie again asked me how I was able to play so many different musical instrument so easily and well to which I simply answered them “practice, practice, practice”, before exasperated with my reply directed the same question back at my parents.

Mom looked at dad while he looked back at her before they shrugged their shoulders almost together and nodded, before mom pointed at dad and silently seemed to mouth “you explain things”. So dad looked over at me while at the same time asking my girlfriends were any good at keeping personal secrets especially his niece’s. Mom butted in on dad and told the girls she expect them all to pinky promise never to tell anyone what they were about to see and hear. After all four girls rushed over and wrapped their smallest fingers around mom’s smallest finger and said they promised to never tell anyone, she told dad he could carry on, to a look of bemused amusement on his face.

He then looked over at me and with a look of suppressed enthusiasm perhaps tinged with an apology nodded his head. Five minutes later he was leading everyone towards the recording studio he operated that no one at school knew about. Asking the girls to be careful walking down the stairs, with a sudden illumination my friends all found their eyes confronted by a recording studio. There were several large rooms with glass topped partitions that had drum kits or a baby grand piano occupying them, several of which also had microphones hanging down on steel poles. There were also two large separate rooms off to one side containing benches which had numerous slides controls on top, along with a number of cabinets against each back wall of the room containing reel to reel machines amongst other things. There were also various shelves displaying musical instruments around the studio with four obvious gaps showing where mom had taken the instruments from I’d used to demonstrate my abilities.

The girls were absolutely excited walking around looking at everything in the studio which they’d never imagined or even seen before, while dad kept them at fever pitch mentioning several famous artists he’d recorded here, that he knew my friends would certainly know. He also told them about how (and here he tried to keep Jane’s secret from being found out) his niece (me) used to come down along with his son Michael and do private recording session of their own.

Dad told them a believable story about how after Michael had gone off to take up a scholarship with a famous music college back east and was staying in the house Jane lived in there, I had apparently wanted to and did transfer over to here. He needlessly added that since I’d moved here, I’d spent almost all my free time practicing and recording music every chance I got. When he asked them if they wanted to see how everything worked, the replies were unanimous and definitely yes please.

Mom took over then and told the girls they’d need to ring their parents up and get permission quickly if they wanted to stay longer while also reminding them to tell their parents not to worry about tea because they’d eat here. After frenzied phone calls to parents and inquiries as to new pick up times (which was decided would be 7.30pm) mom told dad he was back in charge.

My friends during all of this kept asking me why I hadn’t told anyone at school about my music playing abilities. I could only shrug my shoulders and say I didn’t want anyone thinking I was better than them, which because of my sudden poor little puppy dog look had me at least getting nods of sympathetic understanding. Dad then used a recently recorded song to explain to the girls how different part of the studio’s recording consoles worked. He did so by playing them a recently recorded song, during which with a slide or touch of a button could be made to sound first like an entire string section of an orchestra. Then did the same using a coronet and be able to make it sound like a miniature brass band. He demonstrated by moving various sliding controls, how instruments could be made to blend or sound individually different with one another.

When he asked the girls if they wanted to make their own record the excited screams of yes had him laughing loudly. Mom and I (Jane) simply watched and listened as my dad captivated his audience.

About another two hours, which had first seen each of the girls playing the first music piece they had all practiced on separately, while then using me but sometimes mom as well to play other instruments of the same instrument family, as well as playing electric, bass, acoustic guitars, drums, piano, keyboard and even some percussion instruments, mom and dad together showed them several different ways the full ensemble could now sound.

The school’s Band playing interpretation of the same score was now completely and entirely different, although admittedly the Band didn’t play some of the instruments mom and I played. Dad even did recordings to highlight each girl’s musical instrument as the main solo instrument with the accompanying instruments playing a muted accompaniment which he copied to individual disks of each girl Jane handed over to him.

When dad finally announced the recording session finished, it was met by loud groans of female disappointment as along with my friends Jane was just as interested in what was going on and had been produced in the recording session. Mom had meanwhile gone upstairs and ordered takeaway for everyone and we all walked into the kitchen to exotic smells of oriental and Indian cuisine takeaway.

Dad now on both golf and music recording highs, kept everyone entertained telling stories about famous musicians he'd met or played with, to offering suggestions about variations to the music we’d just played and recorded. He even wanted to try and do some vocals although mom told him the girls had to get home for school tomorrow (loud girl groans were made hearing that). When he heard car horns outside, dad tried not to sound draconian (and with the help of mom’s silent presence) as he quickly reminded my friend’s once again about how important it was not to tell anyone else about Jane’s musical playing ability secret.

At about 9.30, mom announced it was time for me to go to bed and with huge hugs I thanked mom and especially dad for making today so fantastic. I was so thrilled about how everything had turned out today but also worried what might happen in the coming days, because the dormant “Michael” still inside of Jane still didn’t entirely believe in “pinkie promises” or the ability of any teenage girl to keep a secret.

Previous Key played - B flat major……… I was so thrilled about how everything had turned out today but also worried what might happen in the coming days, because the dormant “Michael” still inside of Jane still didn’t entirely believe in “pinkie promises” or the ability of any teenage girl to keep a secret.

A Different Key – C Major

On the school bus this morning neither Carmen, Anne or myself spoke a word about what taken place yesterday because of the closeness of nearby students who might have been able to hear, so instead we talked about other things although it was obvious the three of us were almost jumping out of our skins wanting to tell each other our favourite thing about yesterday.

Likewise at lunchtime when Sue, Julie and Michele asked the five of us about how yesterday turned out, we all said it turned out well and had managed to get several useful hours of practice along with having fun trying on some of my (Jane’s) clothes after a KFC lunch. But none of the girls mentioned or in any way hinted or made reference to either about my musical instrument playing talents or about dad’s recording studio. The girls did admit though that they’d learned a lot about how to play their instruments better, which had Sue, Jane and Micky (Michele) wanting to know more. My four Band friends and I seemed to reply in unintentional unison “practice, practice, practice” before all five of us broke up in laughter that brought confused stares from our three friends as well as strange looks from others sitting around us.

In last class Band, I could easily hear how noticeably improved certain areas of the band now sounded. At the end of class as we were leaving Mr. Carmichael called me aside and asked if playing at the back of the band formation (as I did, although also next to the over enthusiastic drummer, Barry) did I notice the improvement in anyone individually or the band as a whole, and I told him straight faced I didn’t think so mentioning the difficulty of hearing over the loud drums next to me.

I spied Debbie and Carmen waiting outside just far enough away not to hear and asked Mr. Carmichael with a look of not understanding entirely why was he asking me? I suggested it might have simply been that the band may have discovered the three P’s and to the confused look now on “his” face (which I wanted to laugh at) I said “practice, practice, practice” which had him break up in laughter.

“Of course the old three P’s Miss Seymour, I really should have realised that myself. But between you and me in all honesty, I really would like to know the method you used so I can teach the rest of the band how to improve their playing as well as you seemed to have taught your friends.” I could only offer the three P’s excuse again and bid him “goodbye sir I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon” and dashed off to join my friends now walking towards the school bus.

On the bus trip home, as much as Debbie and Carmen pressured me, I didn’t relate what Mr. Carmichael had talked to me about, although I did tell them that he’d noticed the improved playing coming from certain sections of the Band.

After desert that evening, dad and I were discussing one of the songs he’d forwarded on to me several days prior and that we’d discussed several times now. When he unexpectedly asked me how my Music and Band classes were going, I should have realised something was up and I mightn’t like it. He momentarily paused possibly trying to think of a way to impart bad news to me before lowering the boom on me, announced that my music teacher had phoned him today and the pair had talked about my recording of “Stay Awhile” I’d left in the music box outside his office.

He told me that my teacher had been so impressed with my song that he found it difficult to believe my written submission which stated I played most of the instruments on it. He’d phoned up dad to confirm whether I actually had played the majority of the instruments or if I’d had professional musicians accompany me on it instead of what I’d written on my submission. Dad said he’d been so angry that my honesty had been questioned, he’d bluntly told my teacher I wasn’t a liar and made Mr. Carmichael apologize, then quickly explained to my teacher all about his own musical background and the recording studio as well as about the EOI C.M.R. had offered me. Dad told me he was sorry if anything might happen in any of Mr. Carmichael’s classes over the next couple of days but was very sure nothing would. Apparently Mr. Carmichael liked the version of the song I’d recorded so much, he’d told dad he was going to arrange for it to be added to the school radio’s daily play list starting next week.

Dad added that my Music teacher didn’t want me to use the music box outside the office door in future to drop off any song’s I recorded and to instead simply hand him any disks of songs I’d recorded before Music or Band classes. Dad said he just wished he could be a fly on the wall during my Band classes either tomorrow or Friday, before telling me that if I (Jane) ran into any problems in class to tell him and he’d come down to the school and settle them.

The following day in Music it seemed as if every second question requiring an answer was being directed towards me by Mr. Carmichael. With Band following Music today, I just hoped that the singling out would stop or else I’d tell dad about it when I got home……..It did and then again it didn’t.

When we had completed rehearsing the first piece of music on the Band’s play list for the now millionth time, Mr. Carmichael sarcastically announced to the Band his congratulations that after two months of rehearsals of music, he felt we hadn’t shown the slightest bit of improvement. He specifically mentioned the percussion area as a deep concern. I expected him to single me out again as he’d already done in Music. But I was entirely wrong, especially as to the “why”.

Instead he addressed Barry Roberts (who was the drummer) in a particularly sarcastic tone of voice asking him if he’d like to demonstrate to the rest of the band the 2/4 tempo, illustrating it by drawing two crotchets on the blackboard behind him. He then asked Barry to demonstrate the 3/4 tempo followed by the 4/4 tempo each time drawing the relevant number of crotchet notes below the tempo. After Barry had beat out each tempo on one of his drums, Mr. Carmichael told him he wasn’t playing any of the tempos correctly and in a matter of fact tone asked me to sit at the drums and demonstrate how to play the tempo correctly. I found out on the bus trip home (since this was my first year in any of Mr. Carmichael’s classes), that neither of my friends could ever recall hearing Mr. Carmichael publicly embarrassing a student in class before.

Hoping to avoid Barry’s situation, without thinking I obeyed Mr. Carmichael request and went and sat on Barry’s now empty stool and played the drum beat tempos he called out while pointing his baton at the relevant chalk drawn set of notes referring to the tempo, expecting him to then tell Barry to resume his seat behind the drums and try again. He didn’t though. Instead Mr. Carmichael asking me to remain seated at the drums then announced the next piece of music the band had to play, before beginning to wave his baton to indicate the tempo, quietly saying “2,3 and”.

Since I knew Barry always struck the drums much too hard and loud for the music my far softer and quieter drum playing allowed the Band’s individual sections to be able to hear themselves more easily. They seemed to realize this as well after about the first five bars played as if in silent agreement the musicians began concentrating on playing in tempo more smoothly without now having to compete to be heard over Barry’s deafening drums. Keeping a careful watch on Mr. Carmichael’s baton tempo, I was able to move away from Barry’s constant pounding and bring in additional ruffles and cascades, which helped make the band sound much better as well. The entire Band also ended up finishing the music piece on the same beat and all together, another first, which every musician realised murmuring among one another.

Mr. Carmichael saw how everyone reacted and quickly named another piece of music, allowing everyone a frantic 15 seconds to find the manuscript and set it up on music stands to follow before he waved the baton’s tempo and quietly said “5,6,7 and….” Again everyone began playing exactly at the same moment without a wrongly played note. By the end of the first line he called out for Barry to watch and listen to my drum play closely and see how I manage to bring feeling to the drums.

I thought that when Barry heard Mr. Carmichael’s shouted remark he was going to drag me backwards off the drummer stool and beat me to a bloody pulp, but he didn’t, even when at the end of the music when Mr. Carmichael told him “now sit back down at the drums after Jane gets up off of the stool and try playing the drums like you’ve just been shown”.

The Band then repeated the same pieces yet again with Barry back playing drum percussion, this time however far more quietly then he’d previously ever done and although the Band’s playing didn’t sound quite as good as it had when I’d played the percussion, it certainly sounded much better than it used to. Mr. Carmichael’s critique of Barry’s drum playing afterwards was both accurate and detailed (another first I thought) although he tried to emphasise his incredible improvement now he’d been shown and heard how to play the pieces of music as they were supposed to be played. He critiqued the tuba players yet again and said he wanted them to practice the music till they could play it blindfolded with no mistakes.

When the final bell rang for the day everyone packed away their instruments and began filing out. As I was walking past Mr. Carmichael he said “thank you for your help today Miss Seymour and don’t forget what I said about new songs”, so I nodded my thanks with a smile thrown in as well. Once outside a number of the class quietly offered me their thanks although keeping an eye out for Barry who was still inside being spoken to by Mr. Carmichael.

Just as I was about to step onto the bus for home a deep bass voice shouting out my surname caused me to panic, because the voice had Barry’s distinctive tone. When he shouted out my surname again but this time adding in plaintive tones “please, before you get on I just need to ask you something” it made me turn around and step back onto the footpath. He came running up almost out of breath and asked me if I could find some time perhaps before classes to show him how to play the drums the way I had. I must have sighed loudly or something, because he laughed while telling me he might be big but he’d never hit a girl no matter what, which I thanked him for before stepping back aboard the bus.

A lot of the dad’s friend’s songs he’d emailed onto me, only had the music manuscript and lyrics attached to them. But a song that had caught both dad’s and my attention recently and we’d discussed quite a bit about, also had an attached sound bite with the email that allowed the person receiving it to hear the writers’ interpretation as to the way the song should sound. Since it’s easier to listen to music then it is to imagine the melody by reading it, I’d replayed it a number of times and liked this song’s particular melody and beat (even if it was only being played on an acoustic guitar).

I went down into dad’s studio after tea the following night and mucked about playing with the song using electric instruments instead of the lone acoustic guitar. Initially I started out with a lead guitar then added rhythm and bass guitars and eventually a simple drum backing. Mom had to come down and tell me it was time for bed, so far was I involved in working out different arrangements to the song. This time I intentionally left a copy of the music I’d recorded so far in dad’s mixing console so he could listen to what I’d been working on.

The next afternoon I came home from school and changed into slop clothes. When I went to surprisingly join dad in the lounge-room and watch some TV, he got up from where he’d been sitting and said he wanted me in the studio. I excitedly followed him to the studio’s mixing room where dad placed my written with yesterday’s date disk into one of the several hard drives built into the console. After playing it all the way through he then began playing certain parts, repeatedly stopping to replay them repeatedly and each time he did he’d offer ideas and suggestions. Then dad got up and asking me to listen to something went over and sat down behind a keyboard he’d already pre-set the keyboard buttons and slides of, that turned it into a “mood” synthesizer and told me to record what he played. The music although clearly the same melody as on my disk now sounded very different, before dad got up and went over and picked up a wired saxophone and with the words “tape this” began playing incidental music. He did this several more times using different instruments before he came back into the mixing room and sat back down next to me.

Plates with food on it being quietly placed infront of both dad and me by mom indicated just how long we must have been downstairs together mixing and editing the music. After eating, dad and I continued to mix and edit the recording. We halted around 9pm because dad said it was almost my bed time. He said it mightn’t be until sometime on the weekend that we’d listen to it together again then we’d talk about working out the vocals and harmonies.

The next day Friday, saw me sitting through classes robotically as I kept thinking of different ways to sing the lyrics in my mind. In Band, Mr. Carmichael’s fierce glare at me after I’d played a wrong note (unheard of) told me how far away my mind was from Band class. Even on the bus trip home my mind was elsewhere which Anne didn’t have any problems in telling me.

A teenager who doesn’t own a pair of earbuds or else headphones is so out of touch with reality, it isn’t worth thinking about. Everyone student at school seemed to roam the corridors and playgrounds wearing them. I did it as well. But anyone caught wearing them “during” lessons had them immediately confiscated and told to report to the Principal immediately. So it wasn’t that strange to see a student pass over an earbud to a friend so they could listen to a song being played on the school radio network, although the school radio wasn’t necessarily the radio station all students listened to. So on Tuesday between changing classrooms, it didn’t enter my mind when I saw students stopping to hand over an earpiece to a friend, or to listen to something.

But while waiting in the queue at lunchtime, I was astonished to hear the girl behind me very softly singing some of “Stay Awhile” to herself. When I sat down at our “girl” table Michele was doing the same although subtly trying to sway her body in time to the song without anyone noticing. The same thing happened several more times during the afternoon and in all honesty it felt great. I told mom about it as soon as I got home and then dad about it as soon as he came up from the studio for the day. Over the following few days, I saw it happen far more than I might have expected or even possibly imagined. The song even became a two minute piece of girl talk at lunch as my girlfriends asked each other who Emerald might have been and how good the song sounded.

On Friday after Band, Mr. Carmichael asked me how it felt to have a song voted most popular with students placing notes inside his box and I smiled and said that it mightn’t be so popular if the students knew who Emerald really was. He thought about that for a moment before asking me if I was any further down the path in my EOI project. I told him there might be a “possible” song shortly and with his reminding me when it was done to make sure I gave him a copy to play, he wished me a good weekend.

The previous Sunday had been a bust for doing any work on ”It’s Always Too Late” because mom decided that the family needed a change of scenery, so we went and visited a zoo and picnicked there for lunch instead of dad and me hanging out in the studio.

Then for the past week dad had been so flat out in his studio doing production work, I had to try and keep patient before he and I might be able to restart work on ”It’s Always Too Late”. Even today dad still had a late running Friday session that had needed this morning to get it finalised and ready for editing on Monday. After waiting for the group to pack up and leave he came inside and I was hoping that he would be still on his usual post recording session high, but instead had to settle for him saying we’d get together tomorrow.

With mom’s backup harmonising assistance, dad’s friend’s song “It’s Always Too Late” got finally got completed although dad felt if we added some strings to it, the song could sound even better. Now that was a problem because neither dad nor definitely Jane or even Michael, (who’d been taught how to play by dad) could play the violin very well. Dad was able to convince me and mom however that when Tank Jeffries turned up tomorrow (he’d already been booked into several weeks prior), he’d get him to record the violin parts dad wanted.

The following day (Monday) at school after a series of harrowing class tests in most of my major subjects, I simply wanted my after lunch classes to be as easy as possible, which thankfully they were. When I got home, it was to be told that Tank Jeffries wouldn’t play the violin music for dad because dad refused to give him the name of the artist he was playing it for. In the end dad told me he’d ring around a few of his pals and get one of them to play the music whenever they found the time, although I had an idea and said that Debbie might be able to possibly play it or else I could try asking Michele/Micky who although a much better violin player, meant it would mean letting another person in on both secrets, which I could see dad wasn’t too keen about.

The following day, Tuesday, I asked Debbie and she excitedly agreed after being told her why, but I made her swear to not saying anything about it to the other Band girls. She asked when she’d be needed and with a quick phone call to dad to see which evening he’d have free, told Debbie Thursday afternoon and I’d (mom) would arrange for tea. Normally a professional muso could turn up, record one song and be gone in a little under 30 minutes, but I expected (wisely as it turned out) Debbie to take considerably longer.

When the pair of us got home on Thursday, we had to wait for dad to finish up a recording before he came back up and collected us to go record the incidental violin music. Obviously Debbie wasn’t a violin virtuoso and dad had to endure a number of false start takes even after Debbie had practiced the music she had to play for almost an hour. She didn’t seem to understand what dad was trying to explain to her and it finally took dad playing violin badly but with the correct tempo and changes in volume, before Debbie finally began to understand how she was meant to play the music. When dad was definitely satisfied that Debbie had played the music entirely to his satisfaction and it had been recorded and saved, he called it quits for the night and led us all back into the kitchen where we finally got to eat tea (almost three hours later than expected). Debbie was more than a bit disappointed that dad wasn’t going to do the final mix till tomorrow, but he promised her I’d give her a copy of the final recording as soon as I had a copy myself.

When dad and me got together to do the final mix on “Friday” evening (he’d gotten involved in other things till then), I could now understand why he wanted the additional string variations. Courtesy of the mixing console, Debbie’s lone violin playing now sounded like a full string section and made the music sound much “fuller” and punchier in the areas of the song dad wanted. I was over the moon with how the song sounded on the final take and hoped that C.M.R thought the same.

We made a copy of “It Always Too Late” for me to give to Mr. Carmichael because “Stay Awhile” definitely had a good following at school according to student requests Mr. Carmichael had informed me of. Sadly it seemed to be more among the female students than the guys. Although I’d been told I could simply hand over a disk or stick of “It Always Too Late” to Mr. Carmichael, dad still made me write down all the recording details the same as for “Stay Awhile”, telling me we were still using my non de plume name and I would also need to add Debbie’s name as an accredited musician performer, in-case the new song went hot and C.M.R took over promoting it. He also told me to do the same for the resume disk I was to give to Mr. Carmichael for exactly the same reasoning, although C.M.R. had already been given a copy of my resume disk music.

Debbie was that excited when I handed over her copy of “It’s Always Too Late” I just hoped she’d keep her word and not tell anybody about it. She came up to me later on very upset. Apparently she thought that dad had ended up not using her violin playing. It took a lot of persuading including a phone conversation with my father for her to accept it was her violin music we used on the song. That night I spent the better part of an hour rerecording her solo violin playing before painstakingly adding the various tweaks that dad had done. What had initially been almost three minutes of solo violin ended up thirty three minutes of music as I recorded the additional voice each time to prove it to her. I handed it to her at school the following day and explained what the disk was. She came up to me the day after and told me she had no idea you could do that, even though I reminded her about the personal tape from our Sunday practice.

Dad express posted a copy of “It’s Always Too late” along with a heavily bubble wrapped fifth of bourbon to his friend. He also couriered only a copy of “It’s Always Too late” to Rick Daring at C.M.R stating this was the first of the five songs he’d recorded for Jane Seymour under her EOI with C.M.R and told me we’d probably here more in a few weeks time.

Meanwhile Jane had school to think about because of “one” poor class test result that saw me getting a B-, which my mathematics teacher Mr Cox felt warranted a letter to my parents. Mom and dad spoke to me about the letter, which after I’d explained the reason for the poor result, they also believed wasn’t necessary but said if they received another in any subject I’d be looking at serious restrictions and left it at that. Still I had to return the letter signed by both parents to be placed in my student file and permanent record. I intended blowing up Mr Cox’s car in retaliation!

Mom was forever reminding me (both when I’d been Michael and now as Jane) I should never get angry with my friends just because of one mistake. I suppose in the light of day it “had been” putting my friends under a little too much pressure with their other friends. The girl I thought most likely to have said something inadvertently, Debbie, wasn’t the culprit however. Actually it was Carmen that saw me missing the school bus home (and needing to phone mom to come and pick me up) to answer Mr. Carmichael’s questions.

A week after handing Mr. Cox back his letter with my parent’s signature in the marked spot, it was during Band rehearsal that Jerome/Jerry Potts, perhaps fed up with the mistakes Mr. Carmichael was critiquing the Band about, stood up and turned around to ask “me” how I would play the piece of music (a new one) we were rehearsing. I tried shrugging my shoulders as if to say “I wouldn’t know” which only made Jerry state he already knew about my musical talent, saying he’d listened to Anne’s tape about the Band girls private practice session done at my place. Anne was looking straight ahead although a quick look saw Debbie’s, Anne’s and Maree’s faces looking pointedly at hers furious at her breaching the Pinkie promise.

Mr. Carmichael well aware of my musical ability and about my preference for anonymity couldn’t allow Jerry’s distracting behavior or question to remain unanswered. When Jerry then asked the class why should I only be able teach my friends how to play better and no one else in the Band, although he personally was actually a good coronet player (he’d also seemed to have forgotten about Barry and his drums). Nerves or embarrassment at being publicly called out like this prevented me from answering him. When he finally said in exasperation “that’s right, why not do what you always seem to do, just stand there looking pretty and act dumb for everyone”, which I wasn’t sure whether to be angry about or be flattered at just being called pretty by a guy.

Fortunately Mr. Carmichael finally interrupted (perhaps too late, but at least he seemed to be trying to restore order and prevent any further damage from being done) as he loudly ordered Jerry to sit down and shut up. He then calmed down enough to ask Jerry to follow him outside then turning to the class and stated we all remain seated in our places and be silent for a few minutes. After they’d left the room and were standing outside clearly visible to everyone, most of the class had turned around to look at me curiously expectant. That was of course except for my four girlfriends (well three at least) as Barry looked up to me and said one word “well?” Luckily I didn’t have to reply as Mr. Carmichael’s voice called out for me to come outside.

Once I had the three of us spent about two minutes outside discussing matters (well me mainly defending my actions) before Jerry was ordered back inside by Mr. Carmichael. Then he and I spoke to one another for a brief time with him explaining what he was going to do and finally getting me to reluctantly agree to it. When the two of us re-entered the Music room has asked me to take my normal place before looking towards the class for silence.

“Thanks to Mr Potts in the brass section along with certain other parties (making it obvious he meant Carmen) it appears Miss Seymour’s wish for her personal privacy can no longer be allowed to continue. I already knew about Jane’s musical talent after speaking with her uncle recently and I think this group may have got an idea when she showed Barry how to play the drums better. But what only a few of you might have known till today’s class is that Jane is very well trained in playing a considerable number of musical instruments, and that her parents have a recording studio business that they operate from home”. Everybody’s face was directly looking at me now."

“Personally as well as for the Band’s ability to improve its playing, I was hoping to try to find some way to get Jane more involved. I also hope that Jane will accept my thanks in advance and perhaps explain some ways to make the school band perform better”. He paused momentarily before adding ”Jane any tips on how we can improve the Band?”

Since I'd already agreed outside, I decided to talk about the three P’s which Mr. Carmichael interrupted just quick enough to say the words “practice, practice, practice Band members”. I asked Anne (of all people) for her tape (which of course she had to have) and after asking for permission from Mr. Carmichael went and placed it in the Room’s CD player, before continuing to speak.

I then began a step by step demonstration first by showing them how Carmen used to sound playing the Trombone. Of course every recognized the music as the first piece of music we had all practiced this term and everyone laughed. By the end of my talk and with the disk’s recorded evidence, which I also made Carmen play her Trombone again as proof, I had everyone’s attention, especially when I told them about how long it took Carmen to improve her Trombone playing.

Waiting a moment for everyone to finish whispering to the person next to them, I explained that with the correct use of a recording studio’s mixing console’s slides and buttons, five musicians could sound exceptional and proceed to play the wall of sound dad had created of the girl’s playing as a souvenir of the session. Mr. Carmichael’s astonished but happy amazement at hearing the same music piece remastered extensively had him take over from me and say if he hadn’t heard it for himself he’d have never believed it. He then asked for everyone to give me a round of applause, before saying I could now return back to behind my Xylophone.

Of course he asked for questions, which most of the band members were still too amazed to offer. Jerry did however, stating he knew all about the three P’s because his Coronet teacher had told him that at his first lesson. Sarcastically he theoretically asked me if my parents would allow the entire band to come to my place to practice like my girlfriends had. Before I could respond Mr. Carmichael interrupted and told Jerry to stop trying to be so smarmy and that a half day private practice could be arranged for a Saturday at the school football field or inside the music room if it was raining, which made for a lot of loud groans. Thankfully the school’s final bell sounded to prevent any further carrying on.

Not unexpectedly on the bus trip home the back two rows of seats on the bus on both sides were occupied by Band students all wanting to know more about my music background. When I got home mom and I talked about what had happened today in Band, which I then had to repeat to dad later.

Around 8pm a knock on the door found Carmen timidly hiding behind both her parents while they tried to explain to mom about why they were here. Mom as always invited people in so as not to leave them on the doorstep, while ordering me to go make some coffee and tea for our guests. An hour later along with lot of tears from Anne saw my parents and me watch Carmen and her parent’s car drive off. My parents then had a short talk to me about friendships, peer pressure and so forth till we agreed it was better to try and forget about what had happened today and that tomorrow was new day.

The next day at school I was handed a note in Mr. Morris’ Science class requiring me to see Mr. Carmichael at lunch break in his office (along with something to eat). There, he again apologized for yesterday and said he had an idea he wanted to try out in Band (with my cooperation of course), which after a bit of strategy and tactics planning I nodded my head in acquiesce……..it seemed Mr. Carmichael wanted help in making make the school band popular! So where does one start first?

I “may” be a bit late posting the next chapter. I don’t have Land Cruiser Virus but have had my cataracts operation (No NOT Cats On A Rack) pushed up to next Monday. D major is penned but nowhere near edited and finalized.

Previous Key played – C Major……… The next day at school I was handed a note in Mr. Morris’ Science class requiring me to see Mr. Carmichael at lunch break in his office (along with something to eat). There, he again apologized for yesterday and said he had an idea he wanted to try out in Band (with my cooperation of course), which after a bit of strategy and tactics planning I nodded my head in acquiesce……..it seemed Mr. Carmichael wanted help in making make the school band popular! So where does one start first?

A Different Key – D Major

When Mr. Carmichael finally brought the Band class to silence, it was to tell them two things. The first was that everyone was to write down at least ten and no more than fifteen songs they’d like the Band to play if they had the choice. Then when a final list of everyone’s most popular songs had been decided upon they’d be written onto a ballot paper to vote on. The second thing was that he’d arranged for several Saturday practice sessions at the school starting in a fortnight’s time, so he and the nominated section leader along with Miss Seymour could attempt to improve the skills of each musician in each section. This second thing was received with a wall of loud groans and whingeing until he shouted for silence (which he finally got, all but reluctantly.)

To justify this unwanted bad news he explained that if Band wanted to play their choice of music, a small amount of commitment was necessary from each and every Band member. To be fair he also offered to allow any person not wishing to be part of this would be allowed to change their elective and would be given a passing mark up to the time they transferred to another course. Regrettably five students quickly packed up and headed out the Music room door, which was certainly less than I thought would have quit.

Mr. Carmichael waited until the last of the student’s had walked out before saying congratulations to the following Band people on being placed in charge of your sections, then reading out four names and saying that if anyone of them needed any further advice they could see him after class. Of the four named, it was clearly obvious that only Jeromy (Jerry) Potts seemed pleased about being named. Mr. Carmichael then advised everyone that the entire Woodwind and string sections would be the first to have a Saturday practice session unless they could provide a parent signed note by next Monday for their absence.

I’d already spoken about this probably happening to mom the previous night. I felt it was far too much pressure on Jane to be able to handle it. After all I’d been Jane for only about twenty or so weeks and still didn’t feel entirely comfortable in her shoes (heels). Mom thought differently, telling me I’d been able to host four girlfriends only a few weeks ago and not be found out. She said I behaved as though I’d been a girl almost from the day I’d been born and even my father didn’t expect to see Michael (or a facsimile) ever again. It was her words that finally made me agree to help out Mr. Carmichael and his plan for making the Band more popular to want to join.

As for Mr. Carmichael, well so far he’d been as good as his word to dad. He now had a copy of my latest and first EOI song for Crazy Music Recordings and it had been played once, and was scheduled for regular playing as soon as he could rework the playing schedule with the help of Audio production students responsible for maintaining the school’s radio station operations. He’d explained to me that although students acted as DJ’s on a revolving basis, out of hours unmanned the music was played via computer on a pre-recorded loop, prepared by other Audio class students. Usually this always entailed a major change of music to be played once a month, so Mr. Carmichael’s interference so as to move my song into a spot wasn’t just a simple matter of just swapping my song for another one (well it was). It needed to be done so as not to leave silent time between songs or any school announcements.

Band classes went on regardless of the six students opting out for other subjects. Of the other section leaders Brad was the only guy. The other two leaders Penny Hai-penny (strings) and Judy Topless (woodwind) were both speechless at their elevations although both of them were quite good musicians. I only had to deal with three boys in my section and Barry was already willing to listen to whatever I spoke to him about.

Both Judy and Penny while annoyed at the Saturday practice(s) simply accepted me as defacto in charge after hearing me play several woodwind instruments, although I admitted to being completely hopeless playing a violin or any other orchestra string instrument very well, which thankfully Penny could.

Judy’s woodwind section was made up of fifteen musicians who were about equally represented by sex. We tried to do some private training before school and at lunch time, but it seemed to be impossible to get the majority of them all together at the same time. I decided with Judy’s understanding to wait for Saturday and see how many actually turned up although everyone said they’d be there.

Saturday morning rolled round and finally saw everyone turning up although not entirely on time. Mr. Carmichael organised where each section should practice, and thankfully the woodwind and string sections ended up inside. The Strings went to the school’s auditorium while Woodwind ended up in the Music room. My three guys had to go and carry their percussion instruments back down to the oval and found some shade trees to practice under.

The percussion guys looked to me for guidance and I eventually got them to begin practicing their tempo timings. I hadn’t dragged the Xylophone down to the field instead opting for a ratty old acoustic guitar to play so the guys would be forced to play much quieter. I also accepted Mr. Carmichael’s suggestion to borrow the school’s Boom box along with several disks of tunes to use if I got fed up playing the guitar.

It was particularly difficult because of the brass section’s horn sounds were clearly audible from the other end of the oval, but in time my guys began to slowly understand what I was trying to explain to them. We seemed to all get so involved practicing that the sound of the lunch bell two hours later surprised the four of us. Mr. Carmichael had already organised for our various drums, and chimes to be placed in the room under the grandstand along with all the Brass guy’s instruments.

The $10 subscription we’d all been asked to bring along for food had been spent on the dreaded Colonel’s Kitten food and two canteen ladies had volunteered to be here today to serve the food.
Not surprisingly each section separated to their own areas, so I had to get up and walk around and talk with Judy and Penny. Their opinions of the morning weren’t very flattering with both girls asking me why I hadn’t shown up to help them individually, which I promised them I’d do after lunch starting with Judy’s woodwind section first. Mr. Carmichael had been unusually scarce after organising which areas the band practiced at, although he was doing a considerable amount of P.R. during lunch with the various sections. We were to all assemble at the oval around 3pm and demonstrate how far we’d all improved!

When 3pm rolled around, the entire band didn’t show any marked improvement although the percussion guys definitely sounded much improved. I think the general mood among all of us was one of the Saturday practice being a total waste of time. Mom had to wait for me to finish talking with Mr. Carmichael, Penny, Judy and Brad about what each of us thought needed to be done to get a better result the following Saturday. I discussed it with mom in the car going home, then with dad during dinner before carefully emailing Mr. Carmichael with their suggestion. I spent the rest of the weekend veg’ing out on movies, with not the slightest inclination to use dad’s studio. A new first.

On Monday Mr. Carmichael had done what I had emailed him about and in Band, the students were allowed to offer their own opinions as to the usefulness of the Saturday practice among other things. To his credit Mr. Carmichael allowed everyone who wanted to, to say what they thought about the Saturday practice idea before he offered them a suggestion (that I already knew all about, since it was my moms and dad idea).

The following Saturday saw a quick improvement in Penny’s string section playing, which was clearly evident to everyone else at the Band class the Monday after. The Saturday after that was Judy’s Woodwind musicians turn to show how much they’d improved. Brad was so pissed that Monday, he almost threatened to quit Band. His Saturday practice the following weekend saw him being especially catty towards both myself as well as Mr. Carmichael. After constantly interrupting my suggestions about how to improve, Mr. Carmichael offered him the choice to leave there and then or else shut up. He chose the latter, although the petulant looks he kept giving me as I now spoke without interruptions had me wondering how long he’d be able to remain silent.

Whatever, it certainly took a lot longer than either Penny’s or Judy’s musicians had taken, but eventually the other Brass musicians realized for themselves how quickly they were improving and they bought into the whole concept, which scuppered Brad’s unspoken opinions as to my methods.
So five Mondays after that first wasted Saturday practice the Band now sounded pretty damned good. It was the first time the entire Band could hear how much they’d improved and there were surprised smiles all round. Finally we wouldn’t sound so awful at sport events. The football season had been going for two Fridays and although we had started to improve, everyone in the band was finally looking forward to a Friday evening shivering uncontrollably.

Mr. Carmichael had been slow about sorting through the lists of songs the Band member themselves would have preferred to play, so that didn’t happen until the following day. We even had a ballot paper given to each of us to vote for which songs we’d prefer to play (the top 25 songs listed had to be whittled down to 10). He reminded everyone that we’d initially nominated over ninety songs between all of us. He also reminded everyone that we’d need to practice any new music along with the music we had already been rehearsing and that any new songs would need to be gradually incorporated into the usual tune list, one, possibly two at a time.

On Wednesday afternoon, he quickly handed out a list showing the ten songs we’d voted on. I’d have to say that several of them would have been hopeless to try and perform in public which Mr. Carmichael was quick to point, out once we’d all had time to digest the music list. He wanted to try the idea of playing a certain selection at every home game and when we visited other schools, we’d play music we had already rehearsed during the term. I wasn’t fussed one way or the other, but the very idea of our school Band playing Lady Gaga songs (2 were on the list) wasn’t that appealing to me.

As it turned out, my fears about the Band playing LG songs didn’t happen for quite some time. Instead it had been decided by Mr. Carmichael that up until the end of the football season, the Band would continue playing mostly the music we’d rehearsed and knew so well. At least we now played it far better than previously. What everyone did appreciate was being advised that the Band would not be required to do marching displays while playing during the football half time breaks, which at least allowed us to be able to remain warmer during games.

It’s worth pointing out to readers that most high schools (in the United States) often have a band that travels to particular sporting fixtures and that both schools provide separate 30 minute performances (sometimes longer) prior to the start of the game being played, with the home school also providing the half time music/entertainment. Obviously each school has its own cheerleaders who can perform during either band’s performance and throughout the game. Usually the host school plays the second performance up to the commencement of the game and is allowed to do so uninterrupted by the visiting school, while offering them the same courtesy prior. Parents and relatives who make up the majority of the crowds don’t have much say in the matter whatsoever. It’s totally different at College (University) level where the sporting arenas are much bigger as are the crowds, while the games are of a far higher standard for the crowd to watch. So are the Band’s musical performances.

During the Xmas break mom got fed up with watching me try to secretly scratch my itchy chest, well perhaps breasts although they were almost flat, while my nipples were certainly obvious now. The tests showed my blood levels had suddenly fallen far too below the minimum amount of testosterone my male reproductive system needed to remain feasible. A hurried family conference saw me several days later go through plastic surgery to receive a pair of “B” cup breast implants to fill my bras properly, although I could have done without the discomfort for a while as they bedded in. My real ones were definitely better than my old sponge ones and I’d finally be able to wear a halter neck bikini top now too although I’d have to wait for springtime to do it. It didn’t stop me however from doing so around the house!

I also got to find out from Rick Daring of Crazy Music Recordings that “Stay Awhile” had been released in our state and received “satisfactory” air time during its appearance on local radio stations around the state as well as on the internet. It at least allowed CMR to recover its financial investment in me so far. My next effort “It’s Always Too Late” was now scheduled for a much wider release around the country although still not including the east coast market. I’d have to hope the Internet junkies could fix that for me once it got play time. They wanted a film clip of me singing it (at my own expense) to help promote the song better.

Dad and mom already had that idea covered. Dad had asked mom to go through the security dick backups and find recordings of me during the final few recording sessions. I appeared like any other musician you’d see playing their instrument in studio film clips except my appearance looked paler (without filming make up) and I played almost all of my own instruments although dad made a fleeting 20 second appearance playing bass guitar along with mom recording harmony backgrounds.

CMR would have preferred a more professional (and therefore expensive) recording but had to settle for this after dad said he wasn’t spending his hard earned money on someone in his immediate family if CMR wasn’t willing to either.

At the end of January, Emerald became an actual person at school after my song and film clip had been seen on a late night MTV show by school friends. Suddenly it wasn’t possible any longer to be able to hide behind the screen of anonymity I’d always had before. Although CMR had told me that my video had been listed for air time when I was notified that “It’s Always Too Late” had been accepted by MTV, they hadn’t been able to give me a precise scheduled time of appearances for the song (that came a few days later). My first finding out happened when Anne sat down next to me on the way to school and excitedly yelled out how much she liked my new song. Obviously her excited volume soon had me surrounded by a group of fellow bus travellers listening to her describe the song and how I looked singing it to them.

When I walked into the school grounds there were more congratulations being offered. By lunch break I was a sort of minor school celebrity at our usual table. I tried to explain how the video had been made while fending off the inevitable questions about did I really play all those instruments, which apparently the TV show announcer had mentioned before the film clip was aired. That was the guy who should have been thanked by CMR once the radio stations found out about who had played all the instruments in the video.

Of course Mr. Carmichael’s response on seeing me enter his room for Music had any hope of my anonymity there being crushed once and for all. He “ordered” me to bring him a copy of the video with me tomorrow and hand it to him so my (mom’s) video could go on immediate release on the schools internal film stream. “It’s Always Too Late” had already been inserted into the radio play list and was being played several times a day from the memory stick I’d handed him after the Xmas break.

My reception for band was even worse. Every band member wanted to congratulate me personally as they entered the room and seen me surrounded by my Music class Band friends. I was able to postpone having to sing the song in class, stating that it wasn’t possible for me to physically play all of the instruments at the same. What I did have to do though was be the moderator for a Q & A session where it seemed everyone wanted to know if I knew any famous musicians yet. It soon felt like a long Band class to me as I answered each question the best I could while trying to be modest.

If what happened to me over the next few days at school was any indication, “It’s Always Too Late” might possibly make me famous. It seemed everyone there loved it or so they all said. Relating it mom and dad at the dinner table of a night even had my parents excited although both preaching to me about staying calm until the first stats returns came back from CMR. When they did it was be email and text along with requests for interviews with several music video shows.

The sales statistics showed that “It’s Always Too Late” was being well received by the listening internet public, as well as the people who had brought the download. The first week’s sales downloads showed just under 31,000 people had paid to record it, which meant I’d (through my agent dad) be getting some money as well.

Dad arranged for the three (so far) interviews to be done at our home inside dad’s studio. “Your poor old oggie doggy dad could always use the additional studio promotion Jane”, which prompted a sarcastically sceptical “sure dad” reply from me. It turned out that for the interviews, they’d all be using the same camera crew (to shave costs) although each show had its own person interviewing me. Each interviewer also asked me to play something, which I did with several different instruments and a different song for each interviewer’s segment which they appreciated and were impressed by.

Dad sat in on each interview identified as both my father as well as my record producer, which also enable the shows to do a separate piece on dad himself, his musical history and his more recent history producing artist’s hit records. When he received the various emails detailing each show’s expected viewing date, he phoned Mr. Carmichael telling him the dates without telling me he’d done it. Again the first “Muggins” knew about this was in Mr. Carmichael’s Music class where he announced the dates to the other students as well as writing them on the board off to the side.

It also seemed that depending on the person addressing me I was now known as Jane, Emerald or Em for short. I was no longer the quiet girl to everyone at school as even the cheerleaders gossiped with me looking for bits of goss about famous musician’s dad had introduced me to (another cross placed on my shoulders by him during his interview).

The one thing (perhaps good) to come from out of all this was that Band classes were now far more liberal. Obviously the Saturday practices helped, but the improved playing and the newly discovered self confidence in their ability to play music much better, now had a lot of the Band musicians making suggestions about the music they were playing. One suggestion which definitely brought dividends as in inviting Music class students who played instruments (everyone) to come along to some of the band rehearsals and bring their instruments with them to jam with us. The ten recently voted for songs was an added lure. The addition of fresh ideas from the Music students along with their own personal tastes saw Band class suddenly become a favourite subject for all of us involved.

The Band now had several electric lead, rhythm, bass and acoustic guitar players as well as a very exceptional pianist, plus a couple of other instruments to help boost the Band’s sound. Mr. Carmichael was thrilled to conduct this musical ensemble now and his over excessive enthusiasm had to sometimes be held in check at the sound of final bell some days.

He was also able to rope Messrs. Wells and Wallings into get involved in the Band, so adding audio and film editing expertise which they in turn used to create small student study groups within each senior’s class to work with the band in trying to find a cost free way of allowing the Band to play at home sports events incorporating electric instruments being wired through the field’s public address speakers.

By the end of March and with a number of further student requested Saturday morning practices the Friday night Soccer matches now had more non parent adults attending than parents with children playing. It was the same with opposing school’s teams as all sides of the fields or grounds were being filled by non-school spectators more interested in the music than the game itself.

By the time school year ended, most of the events that the Band played at were sold out, meaning that over 5,000 people had either attended as parents or paying non parents. This meant the school received up to an additional $10,000 per game (the seats were $2- each and included a flimsy musical program with a voting slip asking people for music suggestions). The school’s board of trustees had in turn selected several mobile food trucks to cater for visitors before entering the field’s turn styles. That meant even more money which Mr. Carmichael bartered into new Band uniforms for next year.

Em, (it’s quicker to type than Jane or Emerald!) was also having a bit of luck. My first official EOI song “It’s Always Too Late” had ended up selling almost 70,000 downloads. Dad’s friend was thrilled to get his writer’s royalty cheque, as well as the publicity that dad gave him by mentioning his name several times during those first three interviews. He had another song that I liked the sound of and I would have recorded it except dad preferred another friend’s song “Don’t Stand Too Close!” for my 2nd EOI offering.

With the end of school approaching for the year, I only had to do well in my exams for my first year as Jane (nee Em or Emerald) to feel fulfilled. So why should a boy (of all things) be such a problem for me to face shortly after everyone returned to school after the summer holiday break and worse still, the boy would be a school Band musician. Who’d have thought it possible?

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I’m taking a few weeks off, because it’s kind of difficult to read the computer keyboard with one eye covered. The cataract op (so far) was a piece of cake, so doing my other eye next week no longer has me worried. I managed to sneak in under the government timeline caused by the C.V. You all take care, while Jane (Em, Emerald, Sam/Ralph/Bill?) looks forward to “seeing” you in a fortnight’s time.
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Wouldn’t it King Farouk you? ……. Two lousy days before my 2nd cataract op and the government closes down all non-essential surgery here! It’s taken another 6 weeks before I finally got the blasted message as to when my rescheduled op was to take place.

Well it’s done now and although it’s only been 24 hours since the Op…… I can now actually "see" through both eyes now without needing to use my coke bottom glasses! And let me assure you it’s a completely different world I’m seeing out there. My keyboard’s still a bit wobbly and sometimes morphs into 2 or 3 at once, but my specialist assured me my eyes should (nay WILL) both settle back to 20/20 within the next week. Thanks for your patience. OH, can anyone tell me what to do with my nose now that I no longer need it to prop my glasses on.

Previous Key played – D Major……… He had another song that I liked the sound of and I would have recorded it except dad preferred another friend’s song “Don’t Stand Too Close!” for my 2nd EOI offering. With the end of school approaching for the year, I only had to do well in my exams for my first year as Jane (nee Em or Emerald) to be a success. So why should a boy (of all things) be a problem shortly after I returned to school after end of year break “and” worse still he was a Band member. Who’d have thought it possible?

A Different Key – D Minor

Today was the first day of my last year in high school. At long last I was a “senior” which means a lot of liberty, instead of having to abide by school’s strict disciplinary rules that other students have to accept. My timetable is practically the same as last year excepting for my core subjects being moved around some mornings. Afternoon classes still end with Band generally preceded by Music. The one exception to this is that I’m required to do one class per week titled Civic Liberties in place of a Music class.

My teachers changed though. Mr. Carmichael had accepted a more prestigious posting elsewhere and my new music teacher seems about as young as Methuselah. It’s funny how looks can deceive someone isn’t it? Initially I certainly wasn’t looking forward to either Music or band this year. But Old Sid (Mr. Dean) is kind of kewel for a fossil. I also had a new Mathematics teacher who had transferred in from elsewhere in the state, but in his defense he’s written several Mathematics books, one of which is the standard text book used in Mathematics classes throughout the state.

My first Music class with Old Sid had everyone struggling to keep up with him! In Band, his first actions were to display our previous year’s playing list and tear it up in front of everyone, declaring that if anyone hoped to get a music scholarship to a college this year, they’d need to start playing music that would create more active comments from our audiences, then the insipid repertoire we’d been playing recently. Whoa!

He also wasn’t afraid of upsetting student’s feelings either. His first critique of the band’s playing proved that to everyone. He called our playing garbage and proceeded to name names of musicians who played poorly. By the end of the class he had dismissed three musicians from attending future classes, specifically mentioning our drummer whose playing he described as being akin to a windup toy whose spring was busted. A violin player (Larry) he caustically criticized stormed out of the room in tears, followed with more decorum shortly afterwards by one of our coronet musicians (Duncan) who after listening to the description about his musical talent, silently stood up and proceeded to pack away his instrument before regally marching out of the room head tall, back straight and red faced.

Old Sid, his actual name is Mr. Sidney Dean made several more changes to the band including my losing my Xylophone position and being conscripted to be the new drummer. He explained that decision along with several others while referring to notes Mr. Carmichael had left him, which he informed everyone had included an analysis of each musician’s playing skills which he said he agreed with entirely having now heard us play.

When the final bell for the day rang, a deafening sound of silence accompanied our shuffling from the Music room, where in the still warm afternoon air and no longer inhibited by school discipline rules, a number of angry and humiliated musicians vented their opinions about our new Music teacher. Judging by the number of threats being made, Mr. Dean mightn’t have to worry about future rehearsals because if the students backed up their words, there’d be almost no one left to form a band, let alone play in it.

The bus trip home was certainly a lively one. It seemed that almost everyone was bitching about Old Sid’s remarks. I along with a few seniors didn’t offer opinions although asked what we thought about what had gone down. Privately I thought what Old Sid had done was a scathing indictment of how bad Mr. Carmichael had really been. After all, no one had ever been criticized for poor playing before (although a few should have been). All Old Sid had done was what Mr. Carmichael should have done, except he’d been too busy playing Mister Popular to all and sundry. I would have loved to have known what Mr. Carmichael wrote about me in his notes, but perhaps the fact that I’d been made the drummer without this old guy even hearing how I sounded must have meant it had to have been a glowing recommendation.

The next morning saw me anxiously waiting for Band to see if anyone besides me turned up for it. During Music class, Mr. Dean made it known that anyone wishing to join the Band class could transfer across with no difficulty as to needing scholastic credits, adding that any instruments would be considered. He did hand out a brief synopsis about the type of music he wanted to play this year, although not mentioning any specific titles, instead using “popular” along with “public choice preferences” as examples?

Several seniors in our class inquired as to what he meant. He told the class he wanted the Band to play the type of music that the public would want to listen to and not the type of music they’d had foisted on them in the past. He stopped any further discussion on the matter by simply stating that anyone who wanted to turn up today would find out at the same time that the Band musicians did.

Last class Band would show who walked the walk and talked the talk. As it turned out our numbers had definitely reduced somewhat, as only forty students showed up along with a few extra from Senior’s Music. The band had lost about 20% of its members with clearly obvious gaping holes in certain sections. Our String section now had 5 less musicians in it while our Brass and Woodwind sections combined had lost 7 members. Perhaps more importantly though was that although 12 musicians had left, almost everyone who hadn’t played quite well, so our “sound” quality had by default certainly improved when we played our first piece.

The following day saw the same offer made to the complete school population that Mr. Dean had offered to the senior Music class when he invited non Music class students who played instruments or sang in the school choir (or might like to) to come to last class Band that afternoon and find out more about a new direction for the school Band.

Well, you don’t have to be dead to be stiff do you?

I think all of the Band students knew our school had a lot of musicians in it but none of us, well certainly me anyway had any idea just how many there were. Mr. Dean couldn’t fit through the Band classroom door so many students were filling it inside. His carefully held folder containing copies of music he was hoping to get the band playing was quickly proven to be inadequate although perhaps he should have at least started by handing the pages out to already existing band members, instead of just any student standing in-front of him. A quick count found that there were almost 50 students who did not receive a handout.

When this fact solidified in his mind, Old Sid asked for a show of hands as to which instrument or instruments non Band students played. When THAT was finally done and tallied, it showed (provided of course everyone decided to stay) our potential new band could number over 80 and would have a vocal chorus of potentially 24 singers of varying pitches. None of the existing band members could ever recall having members of the school choir being in Band class although previous year’s Bands had sometimes been used to provide a musical accompaniment.

Band class that day went for more than 50 minutes over the normal time for school finishing as where ever possible, students were asked to demonstrate their musical instrument proficiency. Even the old Xylophone I used to play was used and played on. There were several drum playing students who trialed / dueled for the role of the Band’s drummer, two of whom I thought were better than myself although I wasn’t asked to play by Mr. Dean. The class finally broke up with Old Sid promising to definitely have enough copies the following day of music he wanted the band to play to those students who had missed out on receiving them today.

The next afternoon found only 4 students not turn up again and after handing out music to everyone who hadn’t received them yesterday and then rearranging the orchestra seating and positioning of instruments, the 79 piece band along with its singers began playing some of the musical pieces Old Sid had provided us all with. It took a few false starts and then some helpful suggestions from Mr. Dean but incredible as it may be to believe, by the end of final bell there was actually coordinated and actual musical tones being produced in the room.

Once outside and as if by ESP, various musical instruments families huddled together and organized to meet up and practice later on at a nearby park or where ever according to the instrument family concerned. I myself was commandeered more than asked by the string and woodwind family leaders along with the singers to join them at the nearby park, which meant having to phone mom and tell her where I was for when to come and pick me up. Mom just laughed when I rang her and said for me to enjoy myself.

About 2 enjoyable although at times frustrating hours later it was decided on to finally give it up for the day and our musical group broke up more enthusiastic than before it had started. It had been decided on by Penny, Judy, Michael, Jenny and me to concentrate on one piece of music which it was decided on was to be best suited to the instrument families. It also quickly became apparent that all the students there weren’t shy to offer opinions and at the end of each playing, several minutes were spent making suggestions and trying them out. By finishing time, it was obvious to everyone that our singers were actually more of a choir and that of the 6 boys there, 4 had incredible vocal ranges and of our girls, we had 2 very definite sopranos or perhaps mezzo sopranos and a hell of lot of good female harmony voices to build on to make a kickass Band and accompaniment.

The next day at Band, the different areas of the Band performed to show how it was going. Penny had only asked that the String and Woodwind sections perform last. I however wasn’t allowed that liberty as the “Electrics” as they termed themselves, requested I provide drum percussion for their performance. After a run through sans drums, I joined them for their “official” demonstration that made their music even better although any percussion would have rounded them out better.

Jeromy’s Brass section gave a “fair” rendition of, would you believe it……the National Anthem which indeed “was” part of the music Mr. Dean had handed out, while the rest of the Percussion group had decided on doing a mishmash of pieces, since their contribution would always be to provide accompaniment and emphasis to the band’s playing.

But the combined Strings, Woodwind, Singers piece when we played it, left no one else in the room in any doubt as to who were the winners today. With my additional soft percussion accompanying them and with the use of the incredible range of different male and female vocal harmonies on hand, the version of Hallelujah that was played drew a long silence after we had finished before tumultuous applause and shouts of appreciation rang round the Music room from everyone.

After a quick moment to catch his breath, Old Sid critiqued each section before saying he now needed to work out the best pieces of music we should play to audiences at sporting events, adding that for all home games the band would now be expected to deliver the playing of the National Anthem once he had worked out a way to incorporate the rest of the Band’s instruments into it. Class was allowed to leave early that afternoon.

Although our school had its own audio visual department, the now no longer lamented departure of Mr. Carmichael didn’t stop the school’s radio from playing music or showing film clips of school musicians performing. Mom and Dad’s tape of my performing had been shown several times over the past few months although because firstly of school holidays then of school classes, very few outside of the small Audio Visual class had ever seen, heard or even knew about Jane being Emerald. I thought that somehow or other I’d dodged a bullet there.

So a few days afterwards in Band class (of all classes) Mr. Dean asked everyone to watch and listen to a musical film clip, before darkening the room and switching on the CD player. As it ended I was sitting as usual behind the drum kit, now blushing beetroot red as people began turning around to stare at me while the window curtains were being drawn back so everyone could see again. What then made it worse was Old Sid explaining my video to everyone.

He started off by advising everyone that the film clip had no trick or gimmicky camera work done for the musical instrument playing and apart from one other person, no other people were involved in the instrument playing or the singing. Old Sid then made it even worse when he looked at me and said “This school’s previous music teacher hadn’t exaggerated your abilities in his notes to me Miss Seymour, had he? I have therefore decided that “you” young lady will be our musical arranger for the group and along with me, you shall determine which pieces of music we will perform for the year.”

It was right about then that I would have liked for the floor to just open up and allow me to drop down into the bowels of the earth !

Yes this chapters a bit short I'll admit to you. But hopefully posting it will allow me the few days I need to get my eyes back into focus and get future chapters reviewed and ready for posting. It's so weird seeing your keyboard appear to move away from you like mine has just been doing.

As for the key D Minor. It's always been an under-appreciated key musically speaking. I prefer E flat major which is coming up next.

This chapter and later ones shamelessly use an idea from the movie “Brassed Off” in places. I don’t apologize for doing so because “Brassed Off” was very entertaining and done without a single naked body or a drug user in it. Please accept that this story is meant to be fictitious fun and written to entertain a few people through this Covid-19 mess.

Previous Key played – D Minor……… It was right about then that I would have liked for the floor to just open up and allow me to drop down into the bowels of the earth.

A Different Key – E flat Major.

But not surprisingly the floor stayed exactly the way it was. I was left blushing bright red as everyone there accepted Old Sid’s decision about the Band. Apparently I didn’t have a say in it one way or the other. Then as if to perhaps put me in the spot light even further, he asked me what I felt the band needed to do to improve. Um… oh…. mmm… oh frack it!

So I instead tried to place the burden on everyone else by asking aloud what everyone felt about the music scores they’d been given and did they like the music. I knew if nothing else, “that” should get the others talking if yesterday’s comments from Band members I had worked with was any indication. And the bitching started up as if cued to do so, thank god.

While everyone who spoke up seem to agree that the music chosen was a vast improvement on last year, the wiser ones were questioning how we could play and perform songs that had a clear and definite ownership to a specific artist or artiste that could be made to at least sound as good as the original. Since a lot of the pieces were catchy up tempo electro/techno songs such as those by Lady Gaga to name but one, how could a school Band possibly play that sort of music outdoors with very little or no speakers and electrical connectors to plug instruments into? Michael and Jenny between them put forward a good case for why it wouldn't be possible from a singers perspective, to perform those types of songs for people to listen to who might attend the school’s sports games.

When it seemed as if no one else was going to speak up, Mr. Dean asked me for my own opinion about what my bandmates had claimed. I in turn returned service on him by asking Old Sid what exactly the Band’s objectives were supposed to be if they weren’t playing music designed to encourage both our sporting teams and gaining the crowd’s interest?

Old Sid put his hand under his chin as if to think about it. Perhaps ten seconds went by in silence before he said perhaps the first objective for “this new school Band” should be to find a piece of music we could play to inspire our sporting teams first, looking round to see if anyone seemed to disagree.

Penny then spoke up and asked why we couldn’t play the last 30 minutes before the start of home games by playing the music of a popular artist, adding that if the songs we played were well enough known, we might be able to get crowds to sing along with us. She looked around for support piping up about how we now seem to have the makings of a kickass set of singers who could lead the way. Others started calling out suggestions for musical theme nights, with one even suggesting we should get the local newspaper involved and have them publish the words to songs we'd play of at a game.

One of the new guys who played both the trombone and the electric guitar although he’d chosen the trombone for Band, told everyone about a movie he’d watched recently about a mining town in England who apparently had a brass band that went and won their country’s national music award. He offered to bring in the CD with him tomorrow and play some of the music, which Mr. Dean seemed to enthusiastically agree to.

When Old Sid then went and said he’d go and speak to the audio staff about seeing if the school’s sporting arena next door could somehow be fitted out to allow for electric guitars and keyboards to be played there, the entire Band seemed to show considerable enthusiasm for him to do so. He finally called the class back to order and wrote on the board behind him in large letters,
1) Team song for encouragement?
2) Theme Tune Performance Music?
3) Electrical jacks for instruments?

He then turned back round to ask for if anyone had anymore suggestions. Seeing how easy it appeared to be to have the old boy think about alternatives, I stated that with so many new Band-persons it might be the right time to look at wearing a more appealing uniform than the old purple people eaters outfit. Without arguing Old Sid turned back to the blackboard and added,

4) New Style of Uniform before adding a question mark after it and circling it in chalk several times over.

He turned back around and started slap wiping his hands together to mimic how easy it was to get things done before giving the class a ten minute early mark but not before saying that tomorrow’s class would be used to try and find the best way to play the country’s National Anthem along with several variations to allow for some differences for regular sports attendees. He asked me to stay behind for a moment while everyone else streamed out before asking me if I could bring along the uniform my mother had had made for me, telling me that he been left a photo of it in the notes Mr. Carmichael had left along with the idea that this might be a good time for the school board to consider a change of Band uniform. What else did he leave in his notes for his successor to consider I wondered?

When I finally walked outside I was swamped by a number of band-people all asking me if I really did play all the musical instruments in the video. One of the guy singers, Steven I found out later on from Anne, actually put his arm across my shoulder as he quietly asked me was it really me singing? All my girlfriends knew how much I hated being touched, let alone held and I was about to tell this gorilla to piss off and stop touching me, when, god knows why my brain began telling me that his arm across the top of my shoulder actually felt (for once)………. kind of “Nice”. So instead of yelling at him to piss off and stop touching me, I felt myself blush while parts of me tingled in ways I’d never felt before.

In the school bus on the way home, Anne and Carmen gave me so much grief about Steven it came to the point I was whispering loud denials to having any feelings for him let alone admit to agreeing ne might look kind "hot". Until they both got off the bus, they teased me constantly about him and numerous times reminded me how I appeared to have blush red while he was talking to me.

When I got home, my brief reply to mom about how school went today, I soon found out must have made he start worrying about me. I simply headed for my room to my room to get changed out of my school clothes. Once there I made a beeline for my vanity mirror and saw my face still looked flushed, which I hurriedly did my best to try and remedy before getting changed. Once back outside and heading to the kitchen where mom was to find something to snack on, she once again asking me about how today had gone and without realizing it I was blushing again. Mom knew the signs that I must have been trying to hide something from her and like mothers the entire world over, she wanted to know what I was trying to hide.

So I firstly tried explaining to her about what had happened in Band earlier on, which eventually got around to me mentioning about this guy named Steven, which as soon as I said his name had my face yet again turning red. Mom’s silently mouthed “O” before gently smiling was the first time that I felt I no longer needed to defend myself from showing any apparent feelings for someone. Especially since in this case it was a boy I was blushing about! Mom for her part decided to play the role of a big sister as she told me that my own body was now beginning to show the effects of my lack of testosterone and the female hormones I’d been taking now for almost 12 months (partly due to the surgical bilateral orchidectomy my parents had agreed to me undertaking now Jane was sure of her next step in life). I now actually had a pair of breasts (of sorts) to take pride in, although admittedly only a small A (but growing) cup, which were still hidden behind the B Cup cutlets I used inside my bras.

Later on the evening we talked about certain things and feelings “again” and how I had to be extremely careful about not letting any boy/guy touch me somewhere inappropriately. When mom hugged me close I didn’t realize that it was a test of sorts, which when she asked me did I know that she had her hand under my skirt and resting on my crotch, had me hurriedly moving it away. I suddenly realized how easily it was to feel comfortable with someone and therefore vulnerable to certain other people.

Mom then reverted to her protective “Mother Hen” persona and told me we’d be going shopping together on Saturday for something extremely personal for me to wear before chuckling and saying I’d probably need some more stay up stockings and a few pairs of special nylons and possibly a suspender belt or two as well. Looking confused at her, mom happily laughed and told me it might be better for me to wear a pair of tight joggers and a napkin under my school uniform tomorrow so I had an excuse if I met Steven and forgot things, before mom made me stand up. She then playfully swatted my backside and told me to get ready to start getting ready for bed, leaving me furiously blushing in embarrassment over having forgotten such important things that I needed to remember to protect Jane’s new life. We continued to talk about it as mom brushed my hair, which was the accepted sign that I needed to listen to her for my own benefit. Her talk was part mini birds and the bees and part revision training girl 201 lessons. I’d passed class 101 with flying colors some time back but mom felt I needed some re tutoring in girl 201 subjects. In the morning I didn’t wear shorts under my uniform skirt, but did wear control briefs along with a panty liner inside it “and” a pair of pantyhose over the briefs.

Lucky for me I did too. At lunch I sat down with my other musical girlfriends but also with Michael and Jenny as well as Steven, who simply asked if there was room at our table and sat down uninvited beside me! Before long out regular table for eight was not only full but overflowing as other band members sat at tables besides ours and turned their chairs inwards towards our table as we talked about musical artists and themes.

Mom had spoken to me before about how some males out there sometimes emanated a form of invisible essence of some kind, that for reasons still not entirely understood among the females of the Homo Sapiens species, affected women and girls of all ages between 10 and 65 that made them lose track of time or place or events. Our school lunch time was listed as 40 minutes in duration, but for the life of me, the sound of the bell signifying the end of lunch caught me totally unawares and I quickly realized with a startled look my girlfriends were all giggling at me. it seems my mother hadn’t been telling me tales to tease me last night. In fact a deep nasal inhale had me discovering that at least on of the guys sitting around our table did seem to have a particular scent about him that I’d never smelt before. I felt a hand lift the back of my hair outwards and knew that Steven must have had his arm over my shoulder again during lunch and I’d never even noticed him doing so!

Hurriedly rushing to catch up with my other girlfriends on their way to the ladies toilets, I had to embarrassingly ask Carmen and Anne if they’d noticed how long Steven had had his arm across my shoulder. Anne looked back at me as if I was an idiot. So did Carmen. They seemed to know what was happening to me and told me in strict girl confidence how Steven seemed to be as smitten with me as I appeared to be with him. This was certainly news to me and as much as I tried to tell them otherwise, they simply took my denials with a grain of salt and continued to look at me with slight smirks on their faces and bright smiles in their eyes.

Just before band I went round to the administration offices and retrieved the lovely Band uniform mom had had made for me and which after a girl’s music weekend had never been out of the plastic again after it had been dry cleaned. Carrying it over my shoulder I left it in the spare side room until Mr. Dean wanted to look at it. The Band guy yesterday who had said he’d bring in a CD of a movie actually did and on entering the room had handed it straight to Old Sid. The movie strangely enough titled “Brassed Off" was part Rom-Com, part Musical and part History lesson movie and the musical score caught everyone’s attention. So much so that only the students who had no other way of getting home left at the final bell to catch school busses home.

Then finally when they played the William Tell Overture and won the trophy, it had a number of students shouting out we now had a tune that every coach at school would gladly have us playing as their teams ran onto the fields this year and even Old Sid agreed, promising that he get us musical scores as soon as possible to practice rehearsing with. At this time of the year, the main school sport aside from baseball was soccer, which had a reasonable following and also was the first choice for the cheerleading squad for home games. The goal Old Sid decided on was to aim to have the band ready to play it for our next home soccer game in three weeks.

I was asked to go and get changed quickly into the uniform I’d brought along while Gail was asked to change into hers as a comparison of old against new. It only took a quick show of hands shortly afterwards to find the new uniform preferable to the old purple people eater with not a single student objecting. Just before I went and got changed back into my normal clothes I told Mr. Dean that I’d bring the quote my mother had obtained to him tomorrow for reference if the school board agreed to the purchasing of new outfits.

We spent the Following day’s Band class with the brass section playing the WTO (William Tell Overture) after Old Sid had already written the score up onto the smaller blackboard off to one side. He did this while also providing the music for various other non-brass instruments. If nothing else, that act alone shut everyone up, so much so that without having to say so Mr. Dean saw everyone drawing up hasty manuscript pages and writing the music down from off of the board instead of waiting for the copies to be finally provided once the admin office had copied them.

To his credit Old Sid quickly changed from teacher to conductor as he explained how he wanted particular instruments to play or sound. The percussion section was to provide the timpani required, possibly even including some the movie hadn’t shown. He wanted to find a way to somehow or other incorporate a set of church chimes into the music at certain bars. He also wanted the two selected electric guitarists to highlight small areas of the music while he felt it would be possible for some acoustic guitars to be able to be used for additional background music to make the music less brass and and more "orchestral".

The first few rehearsed attempts sounded terrible Old Sid told “the ensemble” as he now labelled us. But there was no doubting how enthusiastic and excited he appeared to be when also explaining how he wanted certain bars of music to sound or be played as. While the Brass section was to be the main focus of the piece, he quickly had the String and Woodwind sections providing additional backing melody that softened, yet emphasized the strong Brass instrument sound playing. His last action before the final bell rang, was to record our last rehearsal playing, then telling everyone he’d have copies for everyone to listen to and compare on Monday before wishing us a good weekend and asking us to practice at home.

“Mom, this guy Steven’s asking me out to the movies next Saturday” I gushed out to her after dinner. I was somehow trying to cradle the phone in my bust while telling her which I hoped at the same time wouldn't let him know I was asking my Mother if it was OK for me to go. Mom simply nodded her head in approval and smiled before I turned around and lifting the phone back up to my ear and said I’d love to. We spoke to each other about silly nothingness things happening around school for about another 10 minutes before he finally hung up. I still didn't fully realize what I'd just done to Jane, but mom sure had. She'd gone straight after nodding her OK to me for the lounge room to obviously inform dad about his daughter Jane just being asked out on a date. When I came into the lounge room it was with more of a bounce than a walk to find both of my parents nonchalantly watching T.V. ignoring my sprightliness completely.

It was dad who evidently decided would have to take on the role of the chief prosecutor and ask me who I’d just been on the phone talking to. After giving him a name, age, my little personal bio I knew of Steven to my concerned father it might appear he'd need to more about someone who had asked his daughter (who remember hadn’t been that for much more than a year) to out out with them. He must have decided he was told enough before ending his cross examination and sternly reminding mom (although I found out later from mom he’d just been play acting) to make sure she spoke to me about “certain things” I'd have to know, then giving me a curfew time to be home by said for me to not make so much noise as he proceeded to watch the program in front of him, whatever it was.

“We’ll talk about it while we’re out shopping tomorrow Jane” mom promised me before glancing sideways towards dad while looking towards the ceiling, then giving me a friendly smile signifying not to be worried. In the silence required by dad (now engrossed again in what was on T.V.) I began to ponder whether I should have been so quick to say yes to Steven’s invite. What in blazes made me say yes?

The next morning I woke up and got ready to go shopping with mom. When I walked into the kitchen to get breakfast, mom suggested it might be better for me to wear a longish sort of skirt today instead of the usual figure hugging jeans I was wearing. After I’d eaten and cleared away the dishes into the washer I went and got changed into a casual skirt that fell down to about knee height. I cheated about hose and chose to remain bare legged for the day. There’s nothing worse than wearing stockings or pantyhose during warm weather when you don’t actually have to after all.

One good thing about shopping with mom was that she’d often allow me to drive if dad wasn’t in the car. The topic about me having my own transport had been brought up again just recently and dad’s blunt refusal about me having my own car before I was 18, didn’t seem as set in stone anymore. His new line of thought was that provided I showed I was mature enough, he “might” consider allowing me to have my own car, provided I was able to pay the for insurance and running costs myself!

AS we neared the shopping precinct mom gave me directions as to which streets to turn into and after mindlessly doing so, realized as mom instructed me to park anywhere round here that we were nowhere near our regular shops were since we weren’t even in the mall’s carpark street. Once out of the car, mom stopped me outside of a, would you believe it, an “Adult Product’s” store, whose sign on both the overhead metal sign and front window had painted showed “Be Daring” and in smaller letters under both Adult Products and whose actual large shop front window and entry door were completely whitewashed over so the public couldn’t see inside the shop from the footpath outside.

My curiosity was certainly peaked because I’d never in all my life set foot in a sex shop before either as Michael and “definitely” not as Jane. In fact it actually felt a bit naughty entering one because a sudden thought had me panicking that one of my friends or someone from school might have seen me or recognized me walking into this one……… At school a not so unusual reaction to hearing somebody relating their shopping experience in one, was to humorously call them a pervert or a sexual deviant and almost without exception, the person concerned would either funnily camp it up for everyone or mimic what they supposed a sexual degenerate behaved like.

On passing through a curtain to back up the whitewashed front door, the sight that my eyes beheld had me thinking “whoa, so this is what these stores look like inside”. The store seemed exceptionally long and narrow with a clearly defining center display stand separating the store into two lanes of shopping products. The store lighting was simple diffused overheard fluro lights and the several male clients inside weren’t wearing long plastic overcoats or greatcoats. I'd already heard several times about how the sex shop customers walked around inside totally naked under the plastic or army surplus great coats they wore with only their shoes and the bottoms of cut off trouser legs held up with rope ties around them to make people think they were dressed. Admittedly most of the clients inside were men, but none of them seemed dressed that way, while there was also a twentyish looking young woman aside from mom and myself browsing around the store picking up and inspecting boxed products before returning them to the shelf she took them from.

Mom simply chortled quietly, possibly guessing what was running through my mind. “Behold the holiest of holies of men the entire world over honey” mom whispered loudly which immediately had me giggling, firstly at first her sense of humor then secondly at how easily she had just made me relax and not feel nervous or embarrassed about being inside an adult sex shop.

She obviously guessed this was my first time inside one of these shops and decided to give me an educating tour around the product shelves. She casually would chose a clear plastic fronted box and casually hand it onto me, carelessly commenting on the product’s genuine similarity or lack thereof to an actual thing. Her humorous coarse remarks about certain products she showed me soon had me giggling or chuckling loudly in this sacred shrine of male masculinity and I discovered a new side to mom I never known of before. She certainly wasn’t embarrassed about both either seeing or handling various sized and colored phalluses, faux vagina’s, anus’s or anything else, although she did say about certain products how a woman’s plumbing would make something hard to use or be not that enjoyable to experience.

At the end of the far wall was another curtained doorway that had a printed sign on the wall above it stating B.D.S.M. which mom wordlessly ushered me through the curtain of. The other side of the curtain was in contrast to the room we had just come from. The walls of this room were painted dull black and there were a lot of mirrors around the floor, while the overhead lighting was made of small spotlights shinning downwards. The display cases were all glass fronted and chrome closed at each top and side, while on the walls hung mannequins wearing various types of clothing, some with chains of varying thicknesses or lengths. Some of the mannequins displayed hands in silver handcuffs or cuffs around their ankles, some both. Others included masks over their heads as well as being zipped up or unzipped. There were far too items many to mention here.

After allowing me to satisfy my curiosity somewhat over my first actual sighting in the flesh so to speak of discipline appliances, Mom guided me over to where am employee was casually standing behind a glass top counter with the shelves behind fully stocked. Mom quietly explained what she was looking for while I only half listened, far too busy absorbing what was on the various mannequins displayed around the room. I did catch mom saying something belt, but wasn't really listening to the conversation between mom and the elderly shop employee I was so distracted with looking around. He turned around and selected several small boxes which he handed over to mom saying underwear had to be worn at all times trying on the products.

Taking the boxes from him she moved behind me and quietly directed me towards what appeared to be a very poorly built temporary changing room and telling me as she slid the door close and latched it behind us, to take my skirt off and try on a belt. Perhaps mom wasn’t ready to call it a chastity belt at the moment.

After trying on several and with my confirmation as to whether they were comfortable or not, which needed to include a brief walk around the area outside as well as in the main area of the store to check for chafing for each belt, we left the store with me carrying a quite practical non descript plastic carry bag that contained 3 boxes containing “modesty” belts. Then after driving around to our regular shopping center and purchasing the necessary groceries for the following week, I drove mom and me home. On the drive home we talked about my “modesty” belts as mom pronounced them while I called them what they were in olden times “chastity” belts before mom decided to concede the term while explaining her reasoning to purchasing them for me to wear.

It all boiled down to the fact that until I could manage to control my feelings more consistently so that I wasn’t in any danger of being touched somewhere inappropriately, for the sake of both Jane’s new life, my reputation and to avoid any possibly violence being perpetrated against me by troglodytes, I’d be required to wear one of the chastity belts when I wasn’t at home, although I would be expected to carry the small unlocking key on my person to cater for toilet usage situations.

Out of curiosity I wore a chastity belt around the house for the rest of the weekend, only taking it off when using the toilet, or at bedtimes. Mom and I checked whether some sort of unusual bulge might divulge my secret, but the three belts all had soft though stiff leather around the inside thighs region, but which also allowed me to wear the belts over my waistline which also meant they were snuggled very closely between my legs and thighs. It felt slightly awkward walking around with a slightly opened gait and it took at lot of getting used to trying to cross my legs without feeling uncomfortable. Mom didn’t tell dad what she’d purchased for me just yet and he didn’t suspect a thing. Certainly he kept reminding about behaving appropriately with Steven even up until the time he called round for me, which dad wouldn't have needed to do if he knew what I was having to wear!

On the Monday, I'd already planned to make sure I had taken off and discreetly hidden the chastity belt in my locker before Gym, so I was able to get changed as I usually did. But when it came to Band, I suddenly found it a bit awkward to sit at the drums perched on a small stool and use my bass drum pedal comfortably! Mr. Dean made mention of my slightly less than usual good percussion work, although not going any further than to inquire if I was alright today.

By the end of Wednesday Band class, our ensemble had mastered the Star Spangled Banner anthem perfectly for performing at our next sports gathering. Each day thereafter, the ensemble incorporated in the words being sung, which became the responsibility of Michael with Geoff Smartz designated alternate anthem singer. The girls voices were used for additional harmony as were the remaining boys. By the following Monday, our now stirring rendition of the country’s anthem was certainly worthy of being listened to.

I’d arranged with Steven for him to call for me so we could view an early show Saturday evening. Then he’d planned to take me to dinner, which after careful consideration for his and my money (because we'd already agreed to go Dutch this time), had us going to a nearby Chinese takeaway where I knew they served tasty food at sensible prices. Getting ready for my first date didn’t entail having to do much really. I’d already told mom no to her offer a makeover at the salon we both now used, besides which I already knew how to do my nails properly now anyway.

But mom still claimed “Mother’s Privilege” to help me to get ready and I kind of hoped she’d help me incase I wore something wrong. So after showering and getting rid of any unwanted hair, mom watched as I took out a pair of my prettiest matching bra and panty sets to wear. I’ll admit I was very tempted to wear stockings and a suspender belt, but felt that already wearing one belt was enough and that two could very likely be a problem. When I pulled out a pair of stay ups instead mom simply told me I was wiser than most women who went out every weekend and I knew then I’d chosen correctly.

So after putting on my underwear and then my chastity belt, I decided on wearing a simple blouse and flowing soft skirt with 3 inch heels to finish it off the rest of my first date outfit. The skirt wasn’t short and came down to my knees, but because it was so loose and big at the bottom, would allow me to be able to be comfortable if it rode up while I was sitting and still allow me modesty with prettiness.

When I’d done my face, mom finished brushing my hair to a shining luster before pinning it enough to enable me to wear it falling to one side of my head. Mom then took about five million photos of me before sitting down in the lounge room and waiting with me for Steven to turn up. Needless to say, Steven’s tongue almost fell out of his mouth when he first saw me. The flowers (with a small bunch for mom too) he gave me were a nice touch (and so 50’s don’t you think), while dad who made an obviously rehearsed late entry into the lounge room, gave both his blessing to how we both looked while reminding Steven about how much he loved his little girl, leaving my date in no doubt about what would happen to him if he did something inappropriate to me.

All in all we had a really fantastic night out together. If anyone watching us saw my father later on they’d have to tell him we acted like an innocent couple simply having a good time. During the movie though I did permit Steven petting rights, but only up to a certain point, which was just far enough up my legs but well away from my chastity belt, and only allowing his hand to stay on the outside of my skirt at all times. I did however allow him to put his other arm over my shoulder and cuddling rights, which I suppose encouraged him to try the old accidently seeming to let his left hand slip down onto my left breast for a brief moment. After a second time and again quickly removing his offending paw, I gave him the screaming out warning, which saw him stop it.

He had already taken my right hand and carefully placed it quite high up inside his left leg but just below his groin using his own hand over mine to move it around slightly at times. No actual contact was made with his cock, but it would have been quite easy if I'd wanted to rub the outside of him. Our kissing was a bit of trial and error. Finally we both worked it out that the movies we’d both seen weren’t practical in real life. We quickly discovered that our noses often got in the road a bit too much for truly toe curling kisses. But somehow or other we worked out how to do it properly in the end.

During the previous few days I’d actually wanted to go and see the movie he and I ended up paying for. But I’m dashed if I could tell any of my friends now what the movie was all about since I didn't pay to much attention to it! Our Chinese meal afterwards was indeed the perfect finishing touch to a wonderful night out first date.

Steven made sure he dropped me home before curfew and I rewarded him accordingly at the front door. Mom then helped me get undressed while I dished out what we had done together, making sure I didn’t get too detailed about things and was rewarded by seeing the satisfaction in mom’s eyes as she tucked me in and kissed me goodnight.

My personal clothing secret remained exactly that and would have remained so except mom was late driving me to school one day. That left me racing the entire morning to catch up on class note writing from blackboards. When a person like myself (who's normally used to running to time), finds they're needing to move faster to catch up, it sometimes means that I’m not thinking at top speed all the time. So with my mind that morning needing to think quicker than it usually did and with me normally using Gym to allow my mind to relax to a more calming place, I simply wasn’t thinking when I began to get changed for Gym and unintentionally showed what I was wearing underneath my uniform skirt.

O.M.G. I could have died when Lesley, the girl changing next to me embarrassingly cried out in a voice I just wished would have been quieter, when she asked me "is that a chastity belt your wearing Jane?" Then before I could react or even offer an answer or explanation to her, every girl around me seemed to be looking and exclaiming either OMG's, praise, criticism or else asking with a curious tone what it was like to wear. With a speed that every girl knows about, it seemed that soon every girl in the change rooms was aware I was wearing a chastity belt by the time we headed out to commence Gym.

A few of the Cheerleader girls gave me grief about it with whispered insults ranging from my promiscuity and obvious lack of it, through to the belt being a waste of money because I’d never get a guy to go out with me anyway, let alone get him to want to screw me! The rest of the class was spent with me having to whisper my reasons for wearing it to one girl after another, or describing how it felt wearing it, to how comfortable or uncomfortable it was to wear.

Then when I needed to take it off to shower, I had probably the entire female class crushed together around me watching me remove it. I did so if only to appease the mob and because I needed to shower the sweat away, but as I usually did when showering after gym I left my underwear on until I'd entered and locked my shower cubicle to wash. It was better to leave the chastity belt on top of my clothes instead of trying to pack it away and have it opened up anyway after i was under the shower, to allow the girls who simply had to look and touch to do so.

The one thing I’d learnt about women since I’ve joined the female team was that with few exceptions, most of them “can” keep a secret or not spread a rumor (or fact) if it was to a boy unless it was out of bitchy spite. So by the end of lunch apart from my lunch table friends curiously asking me about wearing a chastity belt, it appeared none of my gym class had done anything bitchy. I was thankful for that because of my afternoon classes. It appeared no guy was any the wiser as to what I was wearing or seemed to be quietly whispering to other guys. By now I’d mastered any discomfort sitting on my stool and playing the drums.

There was a funny side to the girls in my Gym class discovering what I was wearing. I found that out a few days later and that I’d unintentionally started a new fashion trend among the senior girls. By Friday, it was considered to be Tre-Chic to be wearing a chastity belt with a lot of the more adventurous girls letting it be known they were wearing one. In Gym, if you had brought the wrong colored, or with not enough silverwork showing on it chastity belt “and” were seen wearing it, you’d performed the worst possible fashion faux par ever!

I knew that mom had spent over $600 for my three belts but the belts that some of the girls wore, made mine look like they were made out of tinfoil. The head cheerleader would proudly show off her own gold plated front with what she claimed were small rubies along the front in the shape of an outlined heart to any girl in the change rooms who looked. She also seemed to have appointed herself the “Fashionista” of the change rooms, letting those particular girls who were wearing chastity belts she didn’t approve of, take the full verbal brunt of her distain for that girl’s style.

By Friday every person in the senior year Music class had joined Band class. This allowed Music classes to be able to extend into Band class time when necessary, while allowing pre Band extra lessons to those seniors who might need personalized learning help. Mr. Dean had also been exceptionally busy sorting out band requirements as per the wish list he had drawn up on his black and refused to allow to be erased except by him and only if the part being erased had been achieved.

So with 13 days until the next “home” soccer match, he gave a short speech about how the sports stadium would be wired up for electric instruments in time for our next home game performance. He then dramatically erased the point from off of the blackboard before explaining how the school board would not however be able to find the funds necessary for 102 new Band uniforms in the school’s budget (actually it would only be 101 with my outfit already made). He did say though that there was probably just enough money to enable the school to purchase uniforms for those new to the Band.

In what was also considered another first for Band, Old Sid’s news wasn’t what was hoped for or what they wanted to hear, so the class decided to revolt. Since practically everyone who had recently joined was a musician (or singer) and as with most (but not all) school musicians had parents who the kids could ask for financial assistance from, the idea new uniforms couldn't be afforded wasn't satisfactory. Within a minute a seriously enforced school rule about the non using of mobile phones on school premises was being broken, as if by magic 90 mobiles phones were in use for contacting parents. Those who didn’t have phones simply waited for a friend to share theirs. The entire room was one gigantic seething mass of noisy moving students doing the mobile rhumba talking with parents. Old Sid simply stood mute and watched his class ignore him entirely.

By the time some phones had been shared around and used, the class finally started to quieten down and looked back towards the front to allow Mr. Dean to have his class back. He began by reiterating how the school board might be able to purchase enough uniforms for the newer members with a student payment of $30 for each uniform, but there were not enough funds to attire the now much larger Band in new uniforms. Michael Lee our best solo vocalist then stood up and asked if the school would allow for the new uniforms to be made if it was paid for by parents directly. He then said his own parents would pay for his Band uniform and turned around to the class and asked aloud if any other student had parents who would pay for their uniform, asking those who would to stand up.

Almost as one everyone appeared to stand up at first. However a quick head count soon saw 18 students still seated or not able to stand up with confidence. Michael Lee turned to Mr. Dean and asked Old Sid if he could arrange to have a letter drafted up for parents to sign. The school would then only need to find enough money to pay for possibly 18 new Band uniforms. The stunned look on Old Sid’s face didn't however hide his excitement over what was now happening, so he gave the class an assurance that by tomorrow’s class letters for parent’s would be available to be taken home for signature.

He then advised the class that after reviewing all of the written requests about possible new music, he had prepared a list pending how the makeup of the crowd at our next home soccer game eventuated before allowing him to be in a position to provide a final program for the rest of the school’s musical and sporting year’s calendars. He asked the class though if he could organize for the copying of manuscripts for a possible short program of a famous 1960’s musicians music, would everyone agree to it. He then offered the choice of playing a medley of Beatles, Rolling Stones or Burt Bacharach/Hal David songs, using the chalk board to write down a number of songs from each artist.

Someone, I’m not sure who called out about the half time break and if we could play music that allowed for the school’s cheerleaders to get involved. Old Sid thought about it momentarily before making a face that seemed to signify he thought it wasn’t a bad suggestion. Nodding his head, he said he’d speak to the people involved and something might be able to be arranged.

This seemed to appease everyone at least for the moment, before Old Sid asked everyone if they’d practiced "Tell" over the weekend. He then called for a rehearsal now stating it might sound scratchy playing. It sure was but it was certainly enthusiastic played. The short remaining time that day was spent concentrating on the first 55 bars of the tune.

Once final bell had gone and everyone was outside, discussions were split between uniforms and how long it would take to get made and with section leaders trying to arrange hasty after school rehearsal commencing the following afternoon. Since I was supposedly now in charge of the ensemble, as each musical section came to agreement about possible after school practices times, I was approached for assistance to coordinate it.

Because of the need for the school’s own small stadium to be used by sporting teams for practices after school, it was generally agreed that a nearby public park was the most obvious not to mention closest venue to hold practices at, so all that was needed was for permission to be obtained to go there and practice. I dashed back into school and made a beeline for the Music and Audio staff room where, upon knocking and asking, was invited into their sanctum where I discussed out of school practices with Mr. Dean.

On hearing of the apparent enthusiasm of the ensemble he asked me to go with him to the Principal’s office straight away and see how to obtain local authority’s permission to use the park for Band practices. Our Principal Mr. Dwyer simply looked on his computer before proceeding to ring up and see if it would be allowable for the ensemble to practice there. Listening to only one side of a phone conversation isn’t easy, but after several questions by him over the phone to an unseen person, and their possible answers back to him, Mr. Dwyer hung up and announced the park would be allowed to be used for Band practice between 3.40pm and 5.30pm on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays!

Quickly standing up to leave, I thanked both of them before dashing back outside to let a now much smaller huddle of students (who were all the ensemble’s section leaders) the practice times. They told me they’d contact their musicians at home during the rest of the afternoon and tell them about the practice times. Old Sid had assured me while I was thanking both the Principal and him that he’d have an announcement ready to be made at all the registration classes tomorrow morning for those not able to be contacted.

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May I extend my heartfelt thanks to everyone who has been following this story, offering kudos, comments or even using author contact to offer encouragement for the story as well as my well being. A Different Key - F Major, will hopefully be up and posted by BCTS June 5th ? - Please stay safe.
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Previous Key played – E flat Major…… They told me they’d contact their section’s musicians and tell them about the practice time. Old Sid had assured me while I was thanking both him and the Principal that he’d have an announcement ready to be made at all the registration classes tomorrow morning for those not able to be contacted.

Glossary for F Major: WTO - William Tell Overture. EOI - Expression of Interest.

A Different Key – F Major

Afterschool practice the following day highlighted it wasn’t practical to hold them at the park we had chosen because of the lack of amenities to allow electrical instruments to be played there. Certainly the rest of ensemble was able to improve its playing and yes, our 24 member choir were able to practice their harmonizing there, but without the electric instruments, important places in the music weren’t able to be worked on properly.

A few people living in the houses on the other side of the road next to the oval/park had heard the instruments being played and came out of their houses for a sticky beak. By 4.30pm there must have been about 60 to 70 people (mostly elderly or perhaps unemployed) who were sitting down over the far side of the oval/park benches listening to the ensemble, giving slight applause when a piece was played all the way through. It would have been nice if it might have possible to show them how good the full ensemble sounded but we didn’t have electricity. Still, when we played through the 6 songs at 5pm as a final rehearsal and on playing the WTO heard it earn a loud round of cheering and we had all of them standing up during the national anthem and could quite plainly hear their muted words to the Star Spangled Banner.

I’d already asked dad at breakfast if he could arrange to pick me up at 5.30 and he’d parked his car and was waiting outside it listening to the ensemble practice. On the drive home he said we all sounded pretty good for an amateur school band and I explained to him that we would’ve sounded a lot better if we’d been able use the electrical instruments we used at school. Dad turned to me momentarily and grinned as he informed me that he saw one of the park/oval’s lighting columns had a power connection at the base we could use before laughing at the expression on my face after being told about that!

He also mentioned how I had a bit of interesting news to look forward to reading when we got home. This seemed quite trivial to me at the moment since I was already on my mobile and phoning up the guitar and keyboard players and telling them about the power access. Dad listening in told me after I disconnected from my last call, (which was to Penny about the park practice tomorrow) he had a half day in the studio tomorrow and would arrange to bring down all the necessary cabling and even a couple of old microphones and amplifiers as well as an out of date portable sound mixing console.

It wasn’t until after we’d eaten tea and I’d cleaned away the plates that dad handed me a letter from Crazy Music Records (CMR). The letter showed my EOI songs sales record to date as of Friday week ago. The two recordings dad had given them had combined together now sold/downloaded over 50,000 copies with my first EOI recording “It’s always too late” having now sold over 35,000 across two southern states (Louisiana and Mississippi) and was becoming a regular request on MTV as well as local television stations in the far south. The letter stated that CMR would now be targeting the rest of the southern states and was projecting potential sales well in excess of 200,000 for the song and if all went well, then they’d release it nationally.

My second EOI recording “Don’t Stand to Close” was now being revised promotionally and would be rereleased both within our state and of course along all of the southern states, certainly first of all in Louisiana and Mississippi with much greater backing from CMR because they’d only been looking at the market in my own state and only released it because of my local popularity there. The song was very different from “It’s Always to Late” but both dad and I had always been of the opinion it had been a far better commercially viable song then “Don’t Stand to Close”.

When I finally looked up from reading the letter and absorbing all of its statistics, there was mom looking at me with a huge happy smile. So was dad before he interrupted my thoughts and told me that we’d better start looking at a third song to record and offer to CMR quickly, so as to improve my chances of a better recording contract offer when they finally woke up to themselves. He then informed me that as my agent CMR had deposited into his bank account a royalty payment which after deducting his “own” agent’s commission would leave me more than enough money to be able to purchase a small car, if I wanted one……My own car, too right I did which the look on my face again had both him and mom laughing loudly.

School the next morning comprised of unannounced quiz tests in all of my morning classes (the results of which would be part of my final assessment grading) which was fine by me. I’d never had too much trouble soaking up knowledge in class and along with my studying usually saw me getting at least an A in all of them with an A+ in my favorite mathematics class. Gym after lunch was now at least sufferable. I was left alone by the Queen Bee and her friends who no longer seemed to care what I wore under my clothes as school fashions change in a second. Mr. Dean’s Music class today concentrated on explaining the reasons for using of “Harmonic and Melodic Minor” scales as opposed to using “Natural Minor” scales! His enthusiasm for the subject left everyone else in the room confusingly bemused however!

Band saw everyone concentrating on practicing another two songs. At the rate the class was progressing, it’d be impossible to learn all fourteen songs before Friday week, which with today only allowed us nine more days to learn to play them competently including the weekend, which was exactly what the section leaders had asked me to tell Old Sid would be needed to be done. As long as we didn’t run too late on Saturday for Steven and I to shower and change, to allow him to pick me up to go out again this time to the town’s only acceptable restaurant for a date/dinner.

That afternoon after school I learned that dad had already arrived at the park/oval and set up all of the cabling and lead boards that only required everyone plugging in their own amplifiers. The singers now had 5 microphones between them to share, while dad had also bought along his studio’s miniature electric drum kit for me to use, which I’d completely forgotten about. Needless to say Wednesday’s park practice was 100 times better than yesterdays and yesterday’s “crowd” seemed to be slightly bigger too.

While Old Sid had made me Co-director of the ensemble I designated Anne (who was the ensemble’s 1st chair) to control the practice in regards as to the order in which each piece of music was to be played. Dad had at my insistence (pleading) listened closely to give me (and therefore Anne) helpful tips as to how to improve our playing. Even Jerry Potts had to agree with some of dad’s suggestions.

By the time Saturday rolled round the ensemble had mastered (if not yet perfected) 10 songs plus the WTO and the National Anthem. So Saturday’s practice, this time overseen by Old Sid saw us perfecting the 10 and attempting the last 4 songs of the possible program. This time though, instead of using the school’s playing arena, (because they were only part way done getting it rewired) we used the Music room instead, while advising everyone that Sunday’s practice was no longer going to take place. Steven and I didn’t get to go to dinner on Saturday night due to an enthusiastic over run of practice time and although I would have liked him to, he didn’t accept my mom’s offer to join us at home to eat.

By Tuesday Band and with just two and a bit more days to practice, the Audio teacher advised Old Sid the rewiring of the school’s arena was completed and we spent Wednesday Band and sometime after final bell practicing outside in a hasty dress rehearsal. It was also then told to everyone that the WTO would now be part of the program, although not being used to play the team onto the field apparently because soccer teams “walk” and never run or charge out onto the field!

Because of the large increase in the size of the Band we would now no longer be playing in our Purple People Eaters uniform and would instead wear white or purple shirts (depending on which student had what colored shirt in their wardrobe) and wearing long grey trousers (skirts were an option for the girls). As yet no decision about the new uniforms had been given either. As for the cheerleading group, they hadn’t bothered to get back in touch with Old Sid so the half time break consisted of little more than cheers to the crowd on our side of the park while Lennon High’s cheerleaders did the same on their side of lightly filled arena.

Still the crowd from both towns who did turn up that Friday seemed to like our pre-game show and some of them were even heard singing along. But to us musicians, it was a bust of epic proportions. Still Old Sid stated when everyone was packing up that he now thought he had enough information of his own to determine a musical program for the sports we’d be playing for during Autumn/Winter to at least keep the musical interest of enough new people for the band. It turned out that after a few more weeks nine students eventually gave Band away, mainly girl singers no longer interested but also several musicians from both sexes.

The following two months however saw my own personal musical ambitions begin to bloom. Emerald, CMR’s publicity department had decided was a more gimmicky name to promote than Jane Seymour and besides was already out there. The combined sales of my released songs now totaled over 858,000 downloaded sales plus over 3 million hits on line. I’d certainly have enough to get through college if I didn’t earn a financial scholarship. My 3rd and 4th releases had also done well although none managed to “break” through the market out there and become a nationwide hit. Still CMR decided it would sign me to a 3 album contract over the next 2 years, which dad told me they’d ask him to be the producer for.

Regrettably I also learned what genetic girls already knew about and had suffered from since the start of time. First crushes almost inevitably never last very long and alas Steven and I only survived three more weeks before he dumped me. With hardly any form of apology, he simply stopped asking me out and I soon learned from other ensemble girls that he’d apparently started dating Simone from the ensemble’s choir and despite my tears and silent plotting of a spiteful revenge, they seemed suited to one another. The break up also caused me to get my first ever “D“ for a class assignment that saw me being looked at both in sympathy and annoyance by the subject’s teacher. It also merited another parent’s letter needing to be signed and returned, which under the circumstances mom decided to cut me some slack over it.

On the school band front, we performed Friday evening shows at both inter school and home games and were starting to gain a following among the local townsfolk. To ensure we didn’t become stale, two new songs were rehearsed each week and swapped in for others to ensure we didn’t begin sounding repetitive and our repertoire soon numbered almost 30 songs we could choose from. Mr. Dean had even organized for lyrics to be printed in the local paper for people to read that saw extra cleaning work for the contractor on Saturdays. At least like last year, the school treasurer liked the unexpected additional revenue from Friday evenings again.

With the football season starting in a few weeks time, Old Sid had for the past few weeks been scheming with me and now along with Anne and the other section leaders, about finding ways to assist the “money maker team” which even their coach acknowledged would very likely have a mediocre season of results barring a miracle.

He’d already made it known he wanted the WTO played when the team ran out onto the field both before the start of the game and after half time break renewal. The ensemble also now all had their new uniforms which had finally been approved by the school board made even though they’d been paid for by the ensemble member’s parents.

The ensemble had also decided that although we were expected to play at other schools for their home games, it wouldn’t be feasible to try and load onto a school bus all of the necessary cabling, speakers and amplifiers required to produce our unique sound and try to set it up in their school’s arenas. Then afterwards need to break it down to reload onto the bus for the trip back to our own school and unload it there before then having to store it back inside the Music room, while using the typical school busses that had been provided to transport us to those schools.

Instead at away games, we’d decided to play a combination of modern and classical tunes as well as the WTO to entertain the people attending those games. The program for away games was set in stone and actually sounded quite good to listen to possibly because of the two song changes made each time. Besides we only had to play for 30 minutes and then play short stirring excerpts from the WTO though out the game (if our team needed encouraging) to fulfil our commitment. Besides, the halftime break was always the responsibility of the home school to provide.

So Old Sid had been using band classes for the past month to concentrate on rehearsing for the five “Theme Nights” programs to cover the school’s “home” gridiron football games. It came as quite a surprise when the list for the theme nights was read out. He actually read out more than five Themes, ranging from “Golden Oldies, Cats, (who’d have thought that) even the old standbys of school bands everywhere “Rocky Horror” was on the list. But no one expected Dance Crazes to be there or for that matter, musicals such as "Phantom", "Aspects of Love", "Evita" or even "Starlight Express". But Old Sid justified why a particular theme had made his list and besides he’d already organized for all the printing so everyone had to accept it now and accept a copy of the manuscripts concerned.

Our sporting events performing along with Mr. Dean’s incredible ability to have our local paper continue to give us free plugs as well as printing the lyrics to songs we’d be playing that week, soon saw as many as 1,500 people who didn’t have children or knew of students competing at the games attending each week. It was discovered that some brought along their children with them to try to get them interested in playing a musical instrument.

But it was always thought among the ensemble that most non parents turned up holding onto the newspaper pages showing the songs (some dressed up, others not), simply because there was nothing better to do for so cheap an entry price. Everyone no matter what age also invariably ended up watching the game and enthusiastically cheering when our teams played well. That would then see the following week’s local paper mentioning players who had done something special if our school had won, especially against a school that had a particular rivalry with and sometimes publish a photo of the crowd or individual supporters.

Band classes were now not just educational classes, but also a forum to air musical ideas and sometimes complaints. The worst of those was on learning that while the ensemble’s new uniforms had been paid for by our parents, the Cheerleading squad had been allowed to have new uniforms paid for by the school (along with several supporters). Especially so since it was common knowledge that no college people had made special visits to view their performances so far and that they’d competed in a greatly reduced number of contests for school cheerleading squads.

Their coach Mrs. Grebopple had even given Old Sid a list of songs she required the ensemble to play for their half time break show, which he had agreed to and had made the ensemble rehearse for, yet surprisingly never critiqued our playing any further after she had made it known she didn’t like his personal interpretational changes to her music choices. So he and therefore the ensemble simply lost interest in how we played their half time program. The ensemble soon noticed after a few half time performances how the crowd from both towns tended to get up and go to buy food or for personal breaks when we played it at our home games anyway.

It was after our last away game and when everyone was loading their instruments on-board the third of our school busses that Mrs. Grebopple came storming over and gave everyone a verbal spray not only about our playing of her half time music program, but about the ensemble’s skill level at even playing musical instruments. There were quite a few pissed off student’s heads looking out from the three busses windows listening and we all cheered when Old Sid looked at her and told her to “drop dead you silly old bat!”

Back at the school and unloading, Mr. Dean called the music section heads together and told us we had the rest of the weekend to come up with a better musical program and convince Mrs. Grebopple, “otherwise I may need to find another school to teach at next year” he told us primly before walking off to go to his car and driving off. The other section leaders all turned towards me as if I had the answer.

While mom was driving me home I spent the entire time talking on my phone to each Section leader and finally with Anne our 1st chair. Mom had been listening to me on the phone and on easing the car into our garage and turning the engine off suggested I should ring everyone back and invite them around tomorrow, then talk to my dad after I’d eaten something. Instead I decided to do everything mom had suggested in reverse and on hearing dad tell me the studio was free for the entire weekend if I wanted to use it, told me “get moving young lady and make the silly old cow choke on her words” and gave me a quick peck on the cheek, then a short shove towards the kitchen where mom was plating up my rewarmed dinner.

Between mouthfuls of casserole I phoned every section leader back and invited them around to my place tomorrow for a special music session that I had an idea about and wanted to try. I told Michael Lee to make sure every singer came even if he had to phone the others to arrange transport and that I’d take care of tomorrow’s lunch. Mom had as always sat at the table to make sure I ate everything after Friday night performances before telling me she’d see dad about getting the BBQ cleaned away tomorrow morning and saying she’d make sure there was enough food for 30 people at lunch tomorrow. It turned out we only needed to cater for 27 because a few of the girl singers couldn’t make it however much Jenny (the joint leader of the choir section) insisted.

After I’d eaten and changed into my jimjams, I went down to dad’s studio and using the equipment played and then sometimes replayed a number of songs before eventually downloading and recording 4 songs that would run to about almost 17 minutes of continuous music before going to bed. I’d thought about the half time program a few months previously, but back then the pressure was on getting the ensemble performing well and like everyone else didn’t care about half time or the cheerleaders.

In the morning I waited for everyone to start turning up to listen to what I had to show them. But I knew I had a few critics among the ensemble and two of them would be here today so if they and a few others didn’t agree with my idea, it may all be just a waste of time. Fortunately by 9.30 am everyone was starting to turn up when I had asked them to arrive, and when Anne got out of her parent’s car followed by the school’s Queen Bee Vivian Jones, I wasn’t sure whether to cheer or ask WTF is she doing here.

Instead I kept quiet for the moment and led everyone around to the large covered patio area out the back where mom had set up several trestle tables with enough timber, plastic, fold up and kitchen chairs as possible to sit on along with several buckets of ice containing cans of cold drinks. I’d also put my CD player on one of the tables with the CD I’d recorded last night in it.

After everyone had a cold drink I started to explain my idea, after which I played the CD though its entire 17 minutes before it shut off automatically and waited for someone to say something. It was Anne who did so first saying she liked it before explaining to everyone what Vivian was doing here. As soon as she finished explaining and asked Vivian what she had thought of it, I just hoped the Queen wouldn’t throw a hissy.

She stood up slowly while carefully putting the can she was drinking from back on the table. “It’s so raunchy I can’t wait to devise a cheer program for it” she said enthusiastically. “Can I call a few of the girls to come around and try out a few things Janey” Janey? Where’d that name just come from, which I knew meant that for the rest of the day and at school from now I’d be probably called Janey.

Everyone then tried to speak all at once about the music, but best of all no one seemed to have any objections to any of the songs. Michael Lee managed to be speak the loudest and said he just wished we had the ensemble here to practice the music so we could possibly play it first thing at Band on Monday. Penny (who before Anne joined the ensemble had been in charge of the String’s section) knowing about dad’s business and had seen the studio before asked me if dad was working today, and with my negative head shake asked aloud why we couldn’t do it today, which had most of the others looking confused.

Looking over at mom and telling her we’d see her up top around 1ish, I asked everyone to follow me and led them towards dad’s underground recording studio. Once downstairs and with the lights turned on, the squeals of excitement or disbelief had me quietly chuckling to myself before I nonchalantly asked Jenny which girls she thought should sing which songs, then asked Michael who wanted to be the school’s next school’s heartthrob. Everyone who hadn’t been inside dad’s recording studio before (which was most of them) was still walking around and looking at everything there while I asked Jenny and Michael.

So to get everyone’s attention focused I gave everyone a brief demonstration what could be achieved using the studio’s equipment. I began so by playing the first song on the CD “Man I Feel Like a Woman” and breaking the music up into musical sections and even changing the pitch of Shania Twain’s voice. I did the same for the next song which was an old ZZ Top song “Legs” which was a raunchy and cheeky oldie. After that, I started to get all the singers into various soundproof areas that held microphones and then move each group of singers to one of the various microphones in each room, so there was a distinctive soloist in one room and then a separate vocal accompaniment in several others.

The section heads watching all of this now realized that for today at least, no one would be playing an instrument in the studio although Jeromy Potts quickly realized how unless someone scored the music, not many of the ensemble might be playing the half time music. So it was him who suggested that we'd need to get Old Sid here and up to speed quickly, so he could musically score the music for the rest of the ensemble to start rehearsing as soon as possible next week, which saw Anne phoning him and asking if he was free today and if so could he organize to come out to my place and decide if we had a good idea. Vivian had already arranged for some of her cheerleading girlfriends to come over after lunch, but we did need Old Sid here as soon as possible so Anne got it all arranged to happen.

After I had copied the lyrics of the two Shania Twain songs I’d recorded and handed out the first one, we tried to determine who would be lead female singer. It was a coin toss between Judy, Nicole and Jenny so I tried all three singing the soundtrack before the section heads all agreed on Nicole for the first song. The other girls then all huddled up close to two other microphones while the guys gathered around a combined bass and baritone microphone.

It took almost an hour and a possible phone call to get dad’s help before I finally decided we had a passable recording we could use for a test bad level in future practices. Mr. Dean turned up shortly after we had nailed the first song and after going back upstairs to get him led him back down to the studio where he simply stopped in total shock at seeing both the studio and how crowded it was.

When I played him the master tape he grinned before jokingly saying he wished Mrs. Grebopple was here right now to see and hear this. I then played him the first song rerecorded with our voice dub while excusing myself for the lame effort, but told him it had been agreed to so as to allow me to continue on with the next song. Old Sid seemed surprised that I’d said the recording was lame and said for a test bed level, it was very good before excusing himself and telling me it was extremely good.

“Legs” was quite difficult to over dub the words to but not because of the music or the lyrics which were both simple to play and remember. It was getting a consistent gravelly sound from the lead singer Michael. Poor old Michael Lee’s voice was ruined by the time Old Sid and I were in agreement that it was good enough to use for the test bed at rehearsals and copied it to a separate CD then with the CD in a cover led a very excited group back upstairs to find mom talking to five more cheerleaders while dad kept an eye on the BBQ meat to make sure it didn’t overcook and burn.

During lunch Vivian asked if she could play the tape for the other girls to listen to, which caused a noisy riot as soon as they heard the first few bars blaring out of the speakers. The other cheer girls had all turned up in their uniforms which till now had been the ire of the entire ensemble, but now the girls outfits were being admired by everyone for just how glitzy and stunning they looked on them. I know dad was admiring their outfits no end.

We had to hurry through lunch and even then didn’t start back downstairs until 2.15pm. Everyone had been warned to phone their designated driver about now turning up at 6pm instead of 5pm. Even then it wasn’t until 6.20pm that everyone started walking out into the now night which had the house’s outdoor floodlights all switched on to cater for as over 40 cars were parked over the front yard and dirt driveway.

Mr. Dean was the last to eventually leave and was like a dog with two tails he was so enthusiastic. He used the afternoon half of the recording session to work with the section heads about instrument ideas needed for various songs and making notations on keys to be used. Vivian had used the afternoon staying upstairs trying to work out the steps and moves she thought could go best with the five other cheer girls. One thing was for sure, the cheer squad now had a half time music program that they thought was worthy of them! Mr. Dean was told not to worry about Mrs. Grebopple and that the senior girls on the squad would get her in line on Monday morning.

For the rest of Saturday evening from about 8pm onwards I was inundated with texts or phone calls discussing the music today. The ensemble members who hadn‘t been asked to come were even texting me. In each case they were texted back telling them to contact their section leader and that we’d all get the chance to talk at band next Monday. I turned off my light just after midnight and mom’s 2nd visit to remind me it was late and we had church in the morning. Even there it was hard not to have to deal with ensemble members without having to explain why he or she hadn’t been invited or else to listen to suggestions about who could and should sing which song. There were several very definite guy or girl alternative volunteers if illness or misfortune should strike someone.

During Monday morning it seemed everyone wanted to know what Mrs. Grebopple had said or if she’d even spoken to Mr. Dean yet. During lunch Vivian let it be known that she and the other five girls had both spoken to Mrs. Grebopple as well as playing her the master CD and telling her they thought it was real brill idea.

In Band, Mrs. Grebopple came in and speaking with her usual pushy tone of voice said her girls thought the music they were played over the weekend could be made to be satisfactory for their half time performance provided we worked to bring it up to the level required!! I have to give Old Sid his due, if it had been me she’d been addressing, I might have suggested something extremely un-lady like as to what she could do with her opinions, but Old Sid simply thanked her and said the ensemble would try it’s best, which she only deemed her due before walking out of the room. He’d already configured the score for both Shania twain songs and had had them copied. How he’d been able to do so beggared certainly my imagination as both scores covered all four sections of the ensemble allowing all of them to contribute.

The next four Band classes were spent practicing the two scores and all that was needed was to try and blend the songs into whatever type of dances and cheers were being worked out by the Cheerleaders. What was then needed to be decided on for the season opening football match was the Theme Night. Although Mr. Dean always claimed final say on all matters musical, because of what had happened over the weekend he at least allowed the ensemble some rights as to vetoing. So "Dance Yourselves Crazy Music" was to be the first home (and season opening) game’s Theme Night.

He already had decided that since around half the crowds watching the soccer and other games we played at were parents aged between their late 30’s to late 40’s, to start off with “Let’s Do The Time Warp”, then “Put On Your Dancing Shoes”, “Do You Want To Dance”, “Rock and Around The Clock”, “Blue Suede Shoes”, “Let’s Twist Again”, “ Staying Alive”, “You Make Me feel like Dancing”, “Achy Breaky Heart”, “Dancing Queen” and finishing it off with a more up to date song “There’s Nothing Else I Can Say” which would total up to round about 30 minutes.

The WTO would then be played for the team’s entry onto the field. Even then Old Sid told the ensemble he’d speak to the coach to make sure the team didn’t actually run out onto the field until two minutes eight seconds of the WTO had been played, to ensure both the team and the crowd heard the more stirring second half of the music to rev everyone up. Therefore he told us we had to make very sure we all commenced on his time and kept to it.

The following two weeks saw us out in sports arena seating for Band class where the ensemble had already been sitting so far this year practicing. We practiced both the 30 minute Theme Night segment of music as well as the cheerleaders 15 minute half time show and would then replay the 30 minute show again, except this time without the cheerleaders having to stay. At the first outside rehearsal and band class, it saw the cheerleaders come out and hear Michael Lee saying that he’d like to thank everyone who did so for coming out onto the field tonight and dancing or else sitting in the grandstands and singing and hoped that everyone enjoyed it and that the half time gala would be nothing short of sensational.

At first Mrs. Grebopple took instance to Michael Lee’s speech and poor old Mr. Dean had to patiently tell her that Michael wasn’t trying to pre-empt the cheerleading squad’s performance. He had to allow her to first sit through her cheerleader’s program which she felt necessitated having to repeat one of the songs twice before she was satisfied and allowed her girls to leave. She however then sat through the 30 minute pre game performance to learn what Michael had meant with his closing address to the crowd.

It came as something of a surprise to spot her moving her lips to most of the songs we played before allowing Old Sid to assure her that the ensemble would not be changing the show very much if at all and assured her that Michael would not attempt to change his closing speech in anyway unless she was permitted to veto the changes!

The next afternoon saw the Queen Bee sitting down after the cheerleader’s rehearsal and listening to our pre-game show. The next day saw the entire squad listening to our rehearsal and by the following Monday and with the game on Friday night, the squad was practicing cheers to our playing, now with the blessing of Mrs. Grebopple.

When Friday afternoon rolled around, there was nothing more that Old Sid could have done to not only have the match publicized locally, but also several nearby towns. He’d obviously been on the phone pleading his case for more publicity for the event.

The arena started to slowly fill up on both sides of the field as the other school’s player’s parents, relatives and friends parked their cars and entered the stadium’s far side entrance. Our own side of the stadium appeared to be filling more than normal, while the opposing school McCann High’s band was setting up in the opposite corner to ours and ensuring their instruments were in tune. At 5.30pm and with a cool breeze starting to make the coming evening cooler, they started playing their musical program while their side of the stadium started to fill again with more spectators.

By the time our turn came around the McCann High band received a fair smattering of applause for their efforts which our own ensemble also politely applauded. Michael Lee than stood up and gave a very brief welcoming talk addressing it to both school’s supporters and inviting both to either come out onto the field and dance with us as we celebrate dancing music or else to sing as loud as they could from the grandstand.

With his baton raised in his right hand and showing the ensemble his crossed finger on his left, Old Sid waved the tempo and smiled broadly when everyone hit their opening note perfectly and together. The first notes of Time Warp are so well known, you could actually hear people exclaiming their amusement or pleasure. By about half way through the song, there were about 80 people out on the field dancing the "Time-Warp" with quite a few in the stands singing the words. Our choir sang together and in tune so that before the end of the song, Michael was asking for people to come out and join our cheer leaders encouraging McCann’s cheerleaders to do the same for the rest of the night.

By the end of the program there was probably around 150 people on the field dancing and having a lot of fun judging by the laughter and cheering after each song. The stands on both sides were very vocal and it appeared all of our hard work and Mr. Dean’s chivvying in our classes had paid off. As both sets of supporters vacated the field, McCann High’s band played their school’s song as their football side ran onto the field and over towards their side of the stadium and their supporters.

Someone had evidently gone to the effort of making a paper Mache sign wishing our school team good luck and it was being held out for the players to run through. Mr. Dean had Jeromy Potts stand up and on bringing his baton downwards, signaled for Jeromy to begin the playing the lone solo notes for the commencement of the WTO charge. Soon he was joined by the other trumpets and coronets and finally by the entire ensemble. Our own spectators were cheering loudly and waving their hands as if conducting. As we passed the 2 minute mark Old Sid must have somehow signaled to someone for the team to run out onto the field, because they only “just” missed their mark before crashing through the paper Mache sign which had our supporters cheering even louder and applauding enthusiastically.

As the WTO came to a rousing crescendo near the end, I looked look across the field and saw our opponent’s supporters and parents trying to enthusiastically mimic our own side of the field’s crowd in imitating Old Sid conducting us. With the final loud and abrupt finish, both sides of the stadium roared their approval with even our opponent’s school band applauding our playing.

The game had already been written up in the news section of the local paper as a game McCann High was expected to win reasonably easily. But by the half time siren, they were behind 20 to 7 and our team had been pressing for another score before the siren sounded half time. As both sides left the field, Michael stood up and introduced the half time entertainment while both school’s cheerleading squads looked for space on their sides of the field to perform on.

But from the opening notes of the brass section and with Nicole saying “let’s go now girls” along with my exuberant drumming, our side of the field was filled with supporters shouting encouragement and / or singing the words of “Man I Feel Like A Woman”. When it ended and we seamlessly commenced playing “Legs” with Michael singing, while our cheerleading girls began dancing even more provocatively than they had for the opening song. The ensemble managed to all end on the same an abrupt ending note (instead of the fading finish on the recording). Then several male seniors raced out to pair off with specific cheer leaders while the other cheer leaders hurriedly moved away towards our side of the field before Anne invited anyone from either of the field to come out onto the turf and dance if they wanted to.

The instant both sides of the field’s crowd heard the distinct opening to “Living La Vida Loca” it seemed like half the other side of the grandstands was either squealing in excitement or else trying to find a way to get out onto the field to dance as well. I could easily see the same thing was happening on our side of the field although everyone stayed well away from our cheerleaders and their male partners who by now were dancing up a storm of excitement, sex, enthusiasm and perspiration.

As the song ended and everyone started to find a way back off of the field, Simone started singing “That Don’t Impress Me Much” and to the ensemble’s delight she managed to sing the entire song faultlessly and in tune while Vivian out on the field marched and paraded in time leading the others. McCann High’s cheerleaders had already given up trying to cheer during "Legs" and were now merely waving their pom poms in front of them waiting for the 2nd half to begin where they could try and cheer to their side of the grandstand.

The return of our team to the WTO saw the same thing happen as had done so before the start of the game. But now you could visually see how pumped and excited our own players were. The final siren saw us getting an upset win over McCann 30 to 20, as our players happily left the field while giving silent hand claps to the ensemble as they passed in acknowledgment of our playing this evening.

As both sides of the arena emptied several of the McCann High band came over and congratulated us on our playing tonight. Old Sid and their director shook hands and exchanged words of encouragement. The school’s drum kit was quickly carried back to the Music room along with any cabling that wasn’t an ensemble member’s own property. A few had already decided to join the victory party which was usually held at a nearby soda shop, which most likely now would turn out to be far too small for the jubilant crowd.

I was invited along but had already been told by mom we had appointments tomorrow so I begged off albeit reluctantly, but not before having Mr. Dean shake my hand and thank me for my efforts adding that we seemed to make a good team.

Next key – F Minor which will hopefully be ready by the 12th June 2020, new vison permitting.

Look up “Shania Twain - Live from Vegas” on the web to listen to both of her songs in this chapter.

Previous Key played – F Major…… I was invited along but had already been told by mom we had appointments tomorrow so I begged off albeit reluctantly, but not before having Mr. Dean shake my hand and thank me for my efforts adding that we seemed to make a good team.

A Different Key – F Minor

When I woke up through sleep encrusted eyes the next morning, the “buzz” from last night had me quickly looking on my phone for any messages. WTF it was showing 53 unanswered messages and I hurriedly looked through for the names I wanted to text back first. By the time mom knocked and entered my room to see if I was awake there still needed to be 30 texts replied to.

Excitedly showing mom my message bank had her snatching the phone out of my hand and telling me it was Saturday and that she and dad were leaving for the shops in half an hour before walking off with it. Knowing what her tone of voice signified I quickly got showered, dried off, dressed, raced to the kitchen kissed both of my parents while saying good morning, ate a piece of toast and swallowed some OJ, put my things in the dishwasher, got in the back of the car and buckled up as dad turned the ignition key. Mom turned around from her front passenger seat and then handed me back my phone.

But instead of allowing me to keep going answering texts, mom kept interrupting my thought processes and kept making me have to talk with her while dad drove. Once he’d parked and we were all headed inside the centre, friends quickly raced over to say hello that saw mom finally concede and tell me in exasperation they’d meet me at Chico’s for coffee in an hour before leaving me and my friends to rehash about last night.

It took hearing my phone ring and seeing “MOM” on the screen to make me leave everyone and go find my parent’s outside Chico’s, where they were seated and armed with their heart starter mugs of cappuccino. After a short confab about any needing of necessaries such as pantyhose and the like, poor old daddy had to then endure another uncomfortable hour of waiting around inside several clothing stores while mom and I tried on several dresses or skirts, because I really did need to unwind and mom knew how to make me do so.

On Monday morning and I hadn’t even walked more than twenty feet inside the school grounds before I’d received at least ten shouted complimentary remarks from other students, with even one of the cheerleaders coming up to me and giving me a hug with air kisses while telling me how much the school Band rocked Friday night.

Between morning registration and the bumping and swerving along hallways as well as sitting through morning classes, by lunchtime I discovered anyone who was involved with the football team or was a cheerleader, or even an ensemble musician was now a school celebrity, depending on who you were hearing shout out to you. The unexpected football game win appeared to have raised the school spirit beyond anyone’s expectations although probably 90% of the school population hadn’t been at the game. But the power of social media with all of the Facebook videos that had apparently been doing the rounds throughout the weekend, it now had everyone wanting to be at the next football game.

Five weeks later and completely unexpected by anyone, our football team who even their own coach had said would have a mediocre season this year had so far managed to win every game they’d played.

In the four years I’d attended FDR high I’d never seen so much spirit being displayed. Almost every yard of the school’s hallway walls was covered in painted signs of victory slogans or photographs of players, coaching staff and even aerial photographs showing the floodlit field and the jam packed stands along both sides of the field.

Rumors appeared to have started making the rounds after FDR’s third win in a row that some of the football players had been interviewed for possible college scholarships. When the local paper released a story about receiver Miles Donovan signing a letter of intent and he began telling other teammates and school friends about it, school spirit fever rose even higher. By half way through the week leading up to a possible 6th straight win in a row, not only had eight more football players confirmed they were now going to colleges on football scholarships, but so had three cheerleaders as well as several Music students under different scholarships.

Admittedly the scholarships were only to lesser colleges within the state, but there might be the possibility that the football players might be able to transfer out to one of the better known colleges if they performed on the football field. For such a lesser known high school’s students (if they weren’t star athletes) to even be offered full scholarships was very unusual, but in the Band ensemble’s case our reputation for performing was now becoming quite well known thanks to T.V. news media showing a 30 second film of one of the school’s pre game performances, with a regional sports program showing the cheerleaders dancing so provocatively to “Legs” that it was now part of the T.V. show’s opening each week.

Mr. Dean was behaving like a dynamo preparing for each home game’s Band performance. The next game’s Theme was “Phantom” and he was at pains to make sure the Band ensemble would be at its best. Home football games on Friday evenings now saw both sides of the field’s grandstands packed tight with spectators. The other side of the field’s stands had just as many FDR supporters as the opponent’s side had, while our own grandstand was overflowing to filling both ends of the oval.

Our school’s Audio faculty had somehow managed to obtain two transportable large video screens that with the use strategically placed cameras, could now show replays of exciting moments throughout the football game. At halftime the cameras concentrated on the FDR’s cheerleaders who were now considered local sex symbols once close ups showing how sexy they looked as they high kicked to a song were replayed.

Needless to say that at our 6th straight win playing over at Queens Port High playing field, the pre-game Band performance as was as good as could be expected considering the lack of power connections available, while the cheerleaders performed there planned away game cheers and dancing performance to Queens Port’s band playing well enough to enthuse FDR’s travelling supporters.

The rehearsing for both the “Phantom” night and then our final home game Theme Night had been going on for the past few afternoons after school at the nearby park, where because of the extensive local media coverage about the Band ensemble’s musical playing at games, we had been granted permission to continue practicing until 7.30pm if we wanted. The home owners along the street next to the park that had been listening to us from our first afternoon, now often numbered over 400 sitting on the wooden seating or bringing their own fold up chairs.

There was even a mobile food truck parked parked there now doing a thriving business selling hot and cold food and drinks, which the local authorities now charged a rental on, to allow the food truck’s owner/driver exclusive rights to trade there. Once the additional time extension (which had not been asked for by the school board) had been given, (entirely due to requests by citizens surrounding the park) it became possible to now have the time to rehearse the music not only for Theme night games more thoroughly, but also to ensure the non-electric away game performances were as good as possible, which because of "Old Sid’s" pedantic need for excellence had to see us always rehearsing to the best of our playing abilities.

The Thursday morning local newspaper contained its four page hand out in the middle of the paper showing the lyrics for that week’s Theme night songs, but for the past few weeks had also been publishing photographs of the local populace taken either at the park while we rehearsed or on Friday nights at the game itself. This in itself garnered a lot of interest among them because everyone does like their 15 minutes of fame and they could always show it to family relatives whenever they visited. The three radio stations serving our region (not including FDR’s own low output transmitter) were taking turns to also broadcast the football team’s games both at home and away, which was to the complete amazement of everyone living here as it had never been done before even when a school in our regional conference had had an exceptionally talented team.

When Mr. Dean had first handed out the list of Theme Nights to the Band, everyone in the ensemble had been skeptical as to whether the local populace would even be interested, let along actually want to come along and listen to us play. The first home game Theme “Dance Yourselves Crazy Night” had certainly seen the people who turned up and participated seeming to have enjoyed it if the publicity about it afterwards was any indication. Our second Theme night “Barry M” while again not entirely accepted by ensemble musicians saw just how many of the public liked Barry Manilow songs, which although termed an evening of musical schmaltz by every singer in the choir during rehearsals, saw them deliver a brill rendition of every song they sang that had the crowd happily swaying to and fro.

Our third Theme Night “How Britain Invaded America” was when it became obvious to even the worst sceptic in the ensemble that stupid “Old Sid” must have been wiser than anyone thought he was. Admittedly the publicity surrounding the ensemble’s playing might have had part to do with the final acceptance, although no one had the slightest trouble in agreeing that our half time cheerleading show music was totally unique to play, sing and listen to. All of us had “at least” a couple of photographs downloaded to phones or tablets showing individual girls dancing to one of the songs being performed. Heck the raunchy performances had been captured so well by the regional TV station’s audio and camera crew, it had become not only a part of the opening theme on the station’s sport’s NFL show, but must have been seen by college recruiting scouts since three of the girls had since been offered scholarships.

And perhaps the local newspaper editor must like musicals too, because for the past four weeks he’d been mentioning in small spaces inside the paper about the “Phantom” night even outside of the four page hand out spread. Certainly the local people living around the park we were using to practice at were enjoying the music judging by the enthusiastic applause each evening we practiced the program.

On the Friday morning of the "Phantom game” as Mr. Dean now termed it, everything looked set for an evening where the ensemble could enjoy ourselves, because initially “Old Sid” had been able to obtain (through good friends he told us) a genuine copy of the New York production musical score which we had used to practice with. He’d also been amenable to incorporating several small changes to suit the ensemble’s instruments and the choir’s vocal musical ranges. Michael Lee sounded brill as The Phantom, while Jenny vocally “was” Kristen, while Geoff Smartz as the Count Phillipe Chagny’s had his well known and loved duet with Kristen bottled and ready for everyone to enjoy.

Mr. Dean had also arranged for the ensemble to do the full 30 minute performance several Sundays from now at the region’s hospital, where we would also play and sing an additional hour long program of songs that the ensemble had performed from the other Theme Nights all in aid of charity. Being the perfectionist he was and with the blessing of our school principal and the student's teachers concerned, we were going through one the absolute final dress rehearsal before the 5.30 starting time. The show this evening wasn’t simply just our usual stay in the same places at microphones and sing. This time the main singers were using throat microphones that allowed them to move about the field, with during “The Phantom of the Opera” song Kristen needed to be led down the grandstand’s stairs by the Phantom but sometimes needing to look behind her to see if she was being followed.

We, (well Jenny anyway) must have done this at least a dozen times during practices held at the playing arena without the slightest hiccup. But whoever the wiseass was that termed the phrase “good luck, break a leg” must have been looking on, as Jenny somehow got her shoe or foot tangled up Kristen’s long flowing white dress while she was turning her head round as if to see if anyone was following her and the Phantom before doing a face plant onto the concrete stairs. Her microphone amplified the terrified shriek she made as well as the sound of her body hitting the concrete stairs loud enough for the ensemble to immediately cease playing and several of the girl singers screaming in horror. When she didn’t appear to move to get up, everyone in the ensemble began standing up and a number were racing around to where she was now surrounded by a small huddle of panicking people. "Old Sid" had raced across from conducting us and as soon as he got to where Jenny had fallen and seen the result, had simply put his face in his hands and shook his head in despair.

The ensemble as one all started to head for where Jenny had fallen and when I was stopped by the scrum surrounding her was left in no doubt from the students in-front of me that tonight performance was in deep faeces. As soon as an ambulance siren was heard the crowd started to disperse with "Old Sid" asking several girls in the chorus to get ready to rehearse singing Jenny's songs. The ensemble was soon back and seated while Mr. Dean announced which of the girls he wanted to rehearse first.

After the forth nervous singer tried their best, "Old Sid" simply stopped conducting and despairingly said it was a complete disaster and that we’d better start thinking of ways to move the other songs around as well as ways to lengthen the instrumental sections of the score before turning to look at me and ask if I had any ideas then asking the ensemble as a whole if anyone had ideas.

I’ll swear if I’d been able to I would have gone and throttled Rick when he suggested that Jane could sing Jenny’s part if we started practicing straight away. Gavin was just as enthusiastic as he came over from his own kettle drums and asked me for the drumsticks I was holding onto. As if hit by an electric shock Mr. Dean stood stock still, open mouthed and looked at me as if I was an escaped lunatic before he changed into a sudden gust of wind, telling me to get up and move away from the drums and tell me the key I was expected to sing “Think of Me” in.

After twenty minutes of me being completely unable to hit the high soprano notes of the song in tune, he said we’d leave it for the moment and then asked me to sing “All I Ask Of You” with Geoff Smartz, which didn’t sound too bad and even “Old Sid” thought so as well.

By 1pm, except for “Think of Me” everyone including me thought I could sing “Kristen’s songs and duets that involved Michael Lee and Geoff Smartz. Jenny’s white dress had been somehow been returned and after some hurried alterations to the dress’s front hemline had been given to me to get dressed for tonight. A very hurried lunch break saw 'Old Sid' discussing with me and Anne our 1st chair the problem of me not being able to sing the high notes in the song. He was certain I could sing them as he said he’d heard me sing just as high an octave note in my recordings which certainly had me fooled because I knew for a fact I hadn’t sung anything that high for C.M.R.

Anne had the idea of having me sing the high notes a third of a tone lower and simply slide up onto the higher note that way. After about 4 or 5 attempts with Anne’s violin only, I was managing to sing the high notes acceptably well for someone with no opera voice training. Just how knowledgeable most of the ensemble musicians were quickly became apparent as they quickly understood what Anne was doing and with “Old Sid’s” comments managed to play “Think of me” with the now ascending slide into the high notes sound like they were the original score.

While all of this had been going on, the audio and visual people had been setting up the large screens on the sides of the field and checking that everything worked properly. Michael managed somehow to convince “Old Sid” into letting me attempt to walk down the grandstand stairs that Jenny had fallen on, that with a cleverly sewn in lace loop hidden in the folds on the front of my dress now allowed me to lift the front of the skirt up high enough for me to not trip on and I tentatively walked down the steps quite easily.

Just after 4pm the buses carrying Tempe High’s band turned up and they began to walk over and start setting up for their 5pm pregame show. Their football team had arrived an hour before them and had had to listen to me proving I could be lead down the grandstand’s stairs and sing as the same time for our very last rehearsal as they came out for pregame warmup exercises.

As I was being led off to have makeup put on, I could see that the number of people outside lined up waiting to get in sure was impressive, before Vivian our head cheerleader hurried me into their change rooms where a makeup station was in full operation behind a large curtain and where Michael Lee and Geoff Smartz were already seated and being made up. The other cheerleaders were wondering what I was doing here wearing Jenny’s “Kristen” dress and Vivian had to explain to them what had happened, however the heck she’d found out!

After explaining to me about how to move about without the crowd being able to see me, I waited nervously for when I was to follow Michael and climb up a rickety extension ladder placed at the back of the grandstand in the shadows and stand very still at the back wall before the ensemble finished it’s opening theme and the narrator had given a brief synopsis of the story yet to unfold.
Then I’d be highlighted by a spotlight as the ensemble played the short introduction to my first song.

The wobbly swaying climb had me hoping that if I slipped and fell the cheerleaders waiting below (to catch me in case I did slip and fall) were able to catch me! But eventually I was able to lift a leg over the top of the mesh and place a foot onto solid concrete (without snagging my dress) and trying desperately to recover my breath and relax enough to sing. Michael had silently managed to disappear until his first duet with me, which would follow shortly after my solo.

With a blinding brilliance from the spotlight, I somehow managed not to fluff the start of my solo song thank goodness. The person operating the spotlight had managed to lower the spotlight just enough so it was no longer blinding me, which allowed me to sing in key and to also hit the high notes with the slide up we’d rehearsed a bit over an hour before. As I hit the final high note and cut it off, the ensemble finished off the music and the spotlight turned off leaving me once again temporarily blinded while all around the arena there was tumultuous applause.

With perfect timing the ensemble then began playing Michael Lee’s and my duet (and the Theme night’s) major song, “Phantom of the Opera”. While the crowd had turned around slightly to listen to me sing my opening song, once the spotlight had switched off I managed to silently walk over to the concrete stairs and could just see Michael’s faint outline as the introduction was played. Kristen’s part of the title song isn’t sung in such a high pitched key so I was comfortably able to commence on the starting note while Michael now wearing a partial face mask took my hand and placed it on his arm before leading me slowly down the stairs to loud spine tingling organ music and loud drums. We would pause walking after each opening verse was sung for Michael to make sure we were in the right position before continuing to walk down the stairs sing our duet verses and near the bottom of the stairs I began singing higher while Michael shouted sung encouragement and as the song came to a sudden end with me hitting a short high note the spotlight turned off allowing both of us to walk the last few steps to the bottom landing and hurry down and off the grandstand then disappear behind it.

The applause was deafening as he calmly told me where I had to stand for my next song before he raced off to sing a solo of his own which I was only now able to accept that so far the performance had seemed to go very well for so little rehearsal time with me singing. When I had finished my next song, I managed to walk onto the field in the darkness caused by the spotlights changing over to another position as the start of “Music Of The Night” commenced.

I realized that Michael was now standing fairly close to me so I could slowly move towards him as if drawn by his musical words. He would then move away from me and make me have to walk/glide towards him, until he was almost finished singing the song, where it had been planned for me to gently touch his face and for the mask to fall off in my hand, whereupon I was to faint into his arms. I managed to do this while he was able to sweep me up into his arms as I dropped and while still singing in key, he carried me slowly and carefully in his arms over to a makeshift cot lying over white satin drapes and place me onto it (with me still supposedly unconscious) and as he finished the song. Then the bugger leaned down and quite deliberately kissed me lightly on the lips, which I knew wasn’t supposed to happen and then the spotlight dimmed and in darkness I heard him softly chuckle and whisper to me that he couldn’t resist doing it before moving away for the next instrumental break.

In those few moments of darkness I moved from off of the makeshift bed and off the grass to stay in the shadows beside the grandstand to wait for my duet with Geoff Smartz "All I Ask Of You" which saw “him” kiss me as well at the end of the song when we were only supposed to hug that had the entire arena cheering while our narrator ended up the story before the ensemble played the end of “Music of the Night” loudly and dramatically before the lights all went off for a minute. The entire crowd erupted into loud applause and shouts of appreciation before the field's floodlights were turned back on to show the three of us now standing beside one another in the quickly brightening light holding hands before we bowed together and hurried off.

The crowd was still very excited as Tempe High’s football team ran onto the field to a pretty average rendition of “Eye of the Tiger”. Then Jeromy’s entire brass section stood up and began playing the commencement the school’s unofficial war song the William Tell Overture then being joined by the entire ensemble, which had all of the FDR High supporters once again cheering loudly as the now generally accepted conductor mimicking was done from both sides of the arena while our team raced onto the field.

I then went around to the cheerleaders changing rooms and got undressed and changed back into my Band uniform before waking back out of everyone's sight around behind the grandstand to where the band was set up and gave Gavin a friendly tap on the shoulder to get off of my stool, which I sat back onto as everyone around me offered their congratulations.

Our guys played a good game that night and had the game sown up by half time when our kick ass half time cheerleader’s show once again saw the other schools’ cheerleaders stop cheering until the kick off for the 3rd quarter. FDR High wound up winning the game by 42 to 14 and as we packed up everything a number of the crowd came over and told "Old Sid that they had come here tonight on a friend’s recommendation and would have paid a lot more at the gate if they’d known how good we were going to perform.

Mom and dad were waiting for me at the usual place where they parked and mom was gushing in enthusiasm for what had taken place. Dad agreed and asked if the kisses had been part of the performance and almost wet his pants when I curtly told him they weren’t and said I’d have to explain it to Jenny on the phone tomorrow because Michael and her were thought of as a couple although neither would admit to it if asked. All the way home dad kept repeatedly asking me if the kisses were deliberate or not and just couldn’t believe they hadn’t been staged for the crowd’s benefit. After dinner my face was still scarlet colored according to mom.

Final key – G Major probably uploaded next weekend.

Previous Key played – F Minor…… All the way home dad kept repeatedly asking me if the kisses had been deliberate or not and just couldn’t believe they hadn’t been staged for the crowd’s benefit, to the point that my face was scarlet colored by the time the car was inside our garage.

Glossary: CMR - Crazy Music Recordings. WTO William Tell Overture. EOI – Expression of Interest.

A Different Key – G Major (finale).

Friday nights now equated to late suppers after the game. Tonight’s supper however also meant having to put up with mom and dad talking about the two stolen kisses and offering outlandish remarks during the entire meal. Judging by their grins they loved every moment of teasing me too. After I’d cleared away the dirty plates into the dishwasher mom told me I could have an hour of phone time to catch up with friends before I’d have to give the phone to mom to keep until tomorrow morning, same as last week.

Since most of my ensemble friends had already unloaded on me during the football game, after answering my most important friend’s texts first, I saw there were only 14 unanswered texts when I begrudgingly handed back my phone to mom. The most important call I didn’t make though was going to have to wait until tomorrow and I wasn’t really looking to talking to Jenny and explaining to her I had no idea that Michael was going to kiss me and because of where we were, couldn’t scream out an objection under the circumstances.

Saturday morning was always grocery shopping day and usually we headed off to the shops around nine o’clock. Because I’d already talked to mom about phoning Jenny later, she cut me some slack and said I could phone her first and we’d go leave about 9.30am. The moment I heard Jenny’s voice answering I began bleating my complete innocence to her and blabbered on for about two minutes before her loud laughter made me pause.

Finally when she stopped laughing she told me not to panic and that her and Michael had been planning to kiss her last night in the performance anyway, then added that she now had a broken her nose and loosened two front teeth slightly but was otherwise OK and she’d be back at school on Monday. When she told me that Michael had already phoned her this morning to tell her all about the performance and also about how he and Geoff Smartz had decided between them to double prank me for fun and hopefully mess with my head, even I was laughing at the audacity of the pair. My vow to her that I’d get even with Geoff had Jenny telling me she just hoped that her and my friendship wasn’t hurt and told me I should knock myself out getting revenge.

At school on Monday I took the expected teasing in my stride and laughed along with everyone else over what had happened. Michael and Geoff were also going around hinting that the other one was holding a secret crush about me (all with Jenny’s ok I found out the next day) and by the time “that” prank became common knowledge, I’d once again found myself with the unwarranted tag of being a bit of a hottie.

During Band class Mr. Dean told the class that last Friday night’s performance had been exceptional although it could have done without my publicly pashing off the two male singers during it, which had everyone laughingly roasting me for a few minutes that even had “Old Sid” chuckling, having obviously been made aware of the prank.

The local paper when it came out on Thursday wrote how despite the last minute change of the expected female lead, the performance had gone off brilliantly and that the singers took on the roles so seriously as to exchange tender kisses, which the reporter said made the performance even more captivating. Fortunately the TV station showing the game hadn’t filmed the pre-game entertainment.

Mr. Dean was already having us prepare for the hoped for final football home game which if everything went to plan and both teams won their games this week, would see the final game being played between undefeated (so far) FDR High and the also undefeated Cleveland High for the right to claim the region’s championship and possibly get invited to compete in the playoffs for the state championship.

The away football game against Ibrox High that week saw FDR High winning fairly easily which saw the hype around the school the following Monday at fever pitch. In a twist from allowing the ensemble to practice by itself at our usual park, “Old Sid” had been given permission to rehearse at our own arena. As soon as word got out that the ensemble was rehearsing KISS music, Monday and Tuesday afternoon’s practices saw the grandstands filled with FDR students all wanting to see how we sounded. About halfway through Tuesday’s practice the noise of the student’s singing along with our own playing and singing saw the football coach walking over and animatedly talk to Mr. Dean, which saw practice cut short. Evidently our rehearsing along with the student’s singing was distracting his players “Old Sid” told us.

So the next afternoon after school saw the ensemble along with “Old Sid” going down to the nearby park to practice. It wasn’t so much a “practice” but more of a “fine tuning” which saw “Old Sid” conduct us and after each song, critique where he felt it appropriate to. Since the “Phantom” game we hadn’t had to use the park to practice at, as we’d been using either the Music room or else our sporting arena.

It didn’t take long though for the wooden seats over the far side of the park to start to fill up once we turned up and did a very quick sound check. Someone among the spectators must have phoned the mobile food truck guy, because about an hour after we arrived I spotted his large white van pulling up to his usual space and quickly start opening up his shutters.

We had already practiced playing the 6 songs that had been chosen, which quickly saw the locals joining in lustily. Because of the need to allow our singers to rest their vocal chords, “Old Sid” allowed a ten minute break, which he used to walk over to the seated locals to talk. When he came back he had our sound tech geek turn up the volume of the park’s speaker system as well as our electrical musician’s amplifiers and singer’s sound equipment before telling the ensemble he wanted us to play loud enough to rattle the windows of the houses over the other side.

So we did….. and although it did sound slightly distorted, after a few tweaks and slides of controls it had us hearing our music reverberating back quite clearly, very loudly but still clearly understandable, although this time without the crowd’s singing distracting us. Our four designated male singers, Michael, Jeff, Geoff and Rick were absolutely excited at finally being able to sing without any restrictions and the rest of our male voice chorus along with our female chorus were really bopping. After a 2nd run through, “Old Sid” decided to spend the final ninety minutes going over the hospital performance program although this time with the volume turned back down to more normal levels.

The next afternoon (our final dress rehearsal for tomorrow night’s game) saw us playing the exact same performance although this time the crowd had printed lyric newspaper sheets. The local police had to arrive and oversee that the crowd now overflowing onto the road, weren’t delaying passing motorists too much. A number of the locals had even gone to the effort of putting on KISS makeup and were definitely adding atmosphere to the rehearsal. I along with everyone in the ensemble had never seen so many people here before to listen to us and it really helped to fine tune us so that even Mr. Dean could find little to fault about our rehearsal. After we had finished the ensemble stood up and applauded the locals who were applauding our final rehearsal.

Mom and dad had to put up with one really hyped up daughter that evening although they could understand how I felt. That didn’t stop mom however from announcing time for bed at 10pm. Part of my hype could have also been because dad informed me (and mom) that he felt he’d been sent my final CMR - EOI song that morning and once the ensembles commitment to the football program was over, he wanted me to listen to it for myself and see if I agreed.

It was impossible to ignore the hype around FDR High the next day. Although the principal had made it very clear that no one was to come to classes wearing KISS makeup, he had conceded just enough to allow the cheerleading girl's to do so. The cheer girls then stretched his concession even further by including the male cheerleading squad aides and tumblers who they had face painted so it was impossible to avoid seeing a KISS face somewhere around school. All three lunch periods saw the canteen walls echoing to the loud and out of tune student caterwauling of KISS songs and being encouraged to do so, by the cheerleading squad members designated for that lunch period. Several of the canteen staff even wore KISS makeup on as a sign of old fart’s solidarity for the football game.

In another first, the principal had agreed to allow ensemble members to be allowed to miss afternoon lessons so we could set up and sound check the instruments and electrical equipment for the 6.00pm kickoff start. This also allowed everyone involved to afterwards head for the temporary “makeup” station behind the Western grandstand and get made up as well. It had already been agreed to that each person using the facility would have to pay $2, which would be handed over to the PCYC to purchase further equipment for kids using their facilities.

By the time the first Cleveland High bus pulled up, any car parking spaces surrounding the arena were already taken as were most of the surrounding streets. The Cleveland area’s populace had been informed about FDR’s Theme Night by their local community newspaper as well as the radio stations and both had encouraged everyone to participate by wearing KISS makeup if they were going to the game.

When the extent of the possible numbers of people attending this evening was becoming more obvious, Mr. Dean had quickly organized for the ensemble to begin playing music from our repertoire to entertain a very quickly filling arena before the Cleveland High musicians turned up. So by 4.30pm the arena was very noisy as spectators and supporters from both schools had been invited by “Old Sid” to sing along (if they knew the lyrics) to our playing and were certainly doing so.

By the time 5pm rolled around and it was the turn of the Cleveland High musicians to commence “their” pregame program, the arena’s gates had had to be closed (for safety reasons) as the arena’s officially stated spectator capacity of 7,800 had already been over extended by approximately 1,600 additional people, and almost everyone was wearing KISS makeup! The Cleveland High School band like our own ensemble used electrical instruments as well as normal musical instruments in their performances and it was a pity that they hadn’t had the opportunity to do a sound check before they commenced playing.

But although they didn’t sound bad, the extent of the noise volume created by the larger than expected crowd or possibly “nerves” perhaps, saw them only receiving modest (although arena wide) applause when they finished performing.

When the arena’s announcer introduced our ensemble and asked everyone to show their support, it was the first time I’ve ever felt a cold shiver up my spine as the loud roar both from our side of the arena as well as from FDR supporters across the field showed they were anxious for us to start playing. Our program had been pretty well mapped out several weeks prior to this evening and although no one had ever thought it was possible to have a crowd so hyped up already, our opening song was meant to do just that.

“Shout It Out Loud” soon had even our sound technician frantically struggling to overcome the noise of the crowd singing while allowing our own performers to be heard clearly. The two portable video screens showing the lyrics on either side of the field didn’t help either. “Old Sid’s” shouting out “play louder” was almost lost in the noise although quick shouts from the ensemble’s section heads soon had everyone trying to do so.

At the completion of the song, our lead baritone vocalist Michael who this evening was the ensemble’s M C thanked everyone for being here and yadda yadda before allowing our tenor baritone voice and lead singer for the show Geoff Smartz to commence the next song “Sure Know Something”. It was planned for the first three songs to be a mixture of combined orchestral strings with a smaller contingent of brass, woodwind and timpani accompanying. Our electric instrument musicians were to be the main focus along with his vocals.

The volume of the crowd's singing had also subsided although it was easy to hear their muted singing, Mark our sound geek had just as quickly modified the volume though the amplifiers and speakers. When Geoff sang “Shandi” everything fell into place as the crowd obviously knew the song and the applause was one of genuine appreciation more than just hyped up enthusiasm.

We kicked up a quite a considerable notch for “Detroit City Rock” and followed it up with “I Was Made For Loving You” to have the crowd now extremely noisy and keen. Everyone in the ensemble had Googled KISS and the MSO during the past few weeks for inspiration and so the final song's introduction from Michael was so obviously plagiarized it was laughable, but it didn’t matter to the crowd before the ensemble launched into “Rock And Roll All Night”, which at the end saw “Old Sid” turn and bow for the ensemble before allowing the Cleveland High musicians to play their football team out onto the field while the crowd continued to voice their appreciation for the ensemble's pre game performance.

By now the kick off time was well past 6.00pm as Jeromy stood up to commence the WTO introduction. The enormous roar being emitted from around the arena drowned out any possible jeers that might have come from Cleveland High supporters and that was before the FDR High football team finally appeared, (on cue) which even had our opponents stopping in their tracks to watch our players race out onto the field and towards our own side of the field.

Mark and the entire vocal section then went and eclipsed even their best rendition before and sang the national anthem to an arena now emotionally choked almost completely silent, before the roar of appreciation and enthusiasm to get the game started swamped them. The ensemble meanwhile took the kickoff and the first few minutes of the game to catch our breaths and gather our emotions back together again.

The first half was as uncompromising a game of football as anyone had ever seen for a High school game. It was only surpassed by our half time show where our cheerleaders surpassed even their highest standards of cheer performing. Unlike some other half time shows where the opposition school’s cheerleaders would give up, Cleveland’s outfit raised their performing levels too (as we found out after the game when their female coach came over and congratulated everyone).

By the final whistle both teams had played themselves to exhaustion as had both music bands so enthralling and completive was the game. However there could only be one winner and “she” was FDR High 31-28 in O/T would you believe! The chaotic scenes as everyone swarmed out onto the field to congratulate the players had to be seen to be believed. The ensemble played “Sure Know Something” 5 (or was it 6 times) as the players milled with the crowd and everyone singing and raising their first finger’s high in the air to show who was number one.

Jenny finally got to perform her singing role as Kristen/Christine to sustained applause afterwards when the ensemble performed for the patients and staff of our region’s hospital three Saturday’s later. For the rest of the school year the ensemble performed at school baseball games and other fixtures as well as being invited to play at several fund raising events for charities or associations. Our final performance together was at our school’s graduation day, where I along with so many others said our goodbyes to friends going away to colleges outside our state.

I was one of the students who was leaving for far away climes. Even when I’d been Michael, it had always been my hope of attending USC and I was over the moon when I found out I’d been accepted for enrolment there. Mom and dad had already agreed to me going there if USC accepted me even though it was going to be expensive. This was all well before Jane received a full musical scholarship to attend college within our own state, curtesy of “Old Sid” having given a glowing written recommendation to that college’s recruitment officer about me.

Regardless of this I still wanted to go to USC and knowing that if I wasn’t accepted there I’d still have a college education awaiting me. Jeromy along with Michael and our 1st chair violinist Anne had also applied to USC among other colleges and in some instances were hoping for financial assistance from full or partial scholarships. I’m just not that certain however that it was Jane that won the scholarship to USC, because the day after the football match dad and I had sat down together and after listening to it together agreed the song he’d been sent was ideal for me to sing, so he and I spent all of Sunday recording it before sending it off to CMR.

Although we’d used my “stage” name “Jade” for the recording, everyone at FDR High was pretty well aware of who I really was. So it came as quite a surprise to find out through one of dad’s music friends that USC was hoping to recruit “Jade” for the start of their next term. It doesn’t matter now if it was “Jane” or “Jade” that got accepted to USC, (with a full scholarship I'd like to add) I was going to USC regardless.

Obviously part of that meant joining their marching band (which of course I was compelled to do already) although I declined to be part of their choral group after CMR had instructed dad that they wouldn't allow me (Jade) to sing there. That would have certainly meant changing keys!

I’d like to thank those of you who read “A Different Key” in all of its keys. I think (for a while) I’ll stick to writing solo stories. That way I can switch from one fantasy idea to another more easily…..To all of you out there, stay safe and healthy and try not to cough or sneeze (well not out in public anyway).