" She smiles and retreats back to her room, and I get ready for my last day of school.I step off the bus onto my lawn. I notice my sister's car missing from the curb, she must be with friends. I step into my living room. "Hey mom." I say to my mother, who is currently on the floor on her yoga mat. She is adorned with her usual pink leotard, the one she wears when working out, but is without her leggings, leaving her bare legs exposed and giving me a peek of her bush peeking out of the sides. A matching pink headband holds up her curly brown hair in a beehive fashion. "Hey sweetie, how was your day?" She asks, sitting up from her stretching position. "It was alright I guess." I tell her as I head back to my room." "You guess?" She asks. "Well," I say loudly from my room as I drop my bookbag on my bed. "Mr. McClure gave us a surprise end of the year quiz and gave us no time to study." "Oh, sounds tough." She says in an almost joking manner. "Yeah well I'm lucky I already had an A in his. Mom played her oboe and her English horn while Dad coasted through some bass notes on his cello. It was the easiest gig in the world, Mom said, since nobody there knew anything about music, and they weren’t listening much, anyway. They did some arrangements of Schubert and Handel, and that tune from the Civil War series, and a couple other dumbed-down things — though Dad always has to throw in a movement or two from the Bach suites. That always gets people’s attention.I got into the act, too. Dad promised me ten bucks if I brought my flute. So I did my Nielsen, the piece I messed up the first time I played it at the school holiday show. I was fine with it now, though. I didn’t even need the music anymore. I stood between my parents in my sky-blue tank top, my denim pedal pushers and pink tennies, and I pulled in a small crowd. They gave me a nice round of applause, and while I was taking my flute apart and putting it back in the case, I overheard one lady tell Mom I was.
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