The Tuba Nobody Wanted

The Tuba Nobody Wanted

1On the first day of band, Dario carried his dream into the music room with him. He was going to play the trumpet. He had pictured it all summer: the shiny bell, the bright notes, and the solo at the spring concert. But when Ms. Lindqvist read the list, eleven students had asked for trumpet, and nobody had asked for the tuba. "Dario," she said, "you have strong lungs and a steady sense of rhythm. Would you give the tuba a try?" Dario nodded, but his stomach sank.

2The tuba was almost as tall as his little brother. Its case had a broken latch, and the metal felt cold against his lips. His first note sounded like a foghorn, and two trumpet players giggled. Worse, the tuba hardly ever played the tune. While the trumpets sang the melody, Dario played the same low notes over and over: oom, pah, oom, pah.

3"I'm just the background," he told his grandmother that night. She did not argue. Instead, she put an old record on the record player in the living room and asked him to hum only the lowest part he could hear. Dario listened hard. Under the singing and the horns, a deep voice walked along, beat after beat. "Take that part away," his grandmother said, "and the song has nothing to stand on. The low part is like the floor of a house. Nobody looks at it, but everyone needs it."

4After that, Dario stopped counting the days until he could switch instruments. He practiced every afternoon. He did breathing exercises so that his long notes would not wobble, and he tapped his foot to count each beat out loud. His oom-pahs grew rounder and steadier.

5Two weeks before the concert, the band fell apart in the middle of the march. The trumpets rushed, the flutes tried to catch up, and soon everyone was playing at a different speed. Ms. Lindqvist lowered her hands. "Start again," she said. "This time, everyone listen to Dario." Dario took a deep breath and played his low notes as evenly as a ticking clock. One by one, the other players found the beat, and the march came together.

6At the spring concert, Dario still had no solo. But when the last note ended, Ms. Lindqvist turned and pointed to the back row. Dario stood up, holding the heavy tuba, while the audience clapped. As they sat down, Theo, one of the trumpet players, leaned over. "We couldn't have done it without you," he whispered. Dario grinned. For the first time, he did not wish he were holding a trumpet.