Disney Books - Soul Junior Novel Deluxe Edition

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ISBN 978-1-368-06672-3

J oe Gardner was not someone who made people sit up and take notice. Not at first, anyway. He was tall but mild-mannered, with a thin mustache and a timid smile. He wore glasses with heavy black frames. At forty-six, his black hair was just starting to turn gray. He didnt care about clothes, so his wardrobe consisted mostly of slacks and black turtlenecks.

Anyone meeting Joe for the first time would never guess that within his chest, his heart beat with white-hot passiona fire that burned for just one thing.

Joe loved jazz music.

Hed fallen for jazz when he was twelve years old. Since that day, hed devoted his life to the musiclistening to it, studying it, playing it. Jazz was the first thing he thought of in the morning. At night, he went to sleep with riffs and codas swirling through his brain.

For Joe, the incredible thing about jazz music, the thing that kept it from getting old, was that there were so many ways to play it. And all those ways made you feel something different.

Jazz could be bold and confident. Or playful. Or melancholic. Some jazz made you feel on top of the world. And when you were down in the dumps, jazz could be a balm for your soul.

And then there was the kind of jazz that made you feel like you were being run over by a garbage truck. In other words, jazz played by a middle-school band.

Unfortunately, Joe was deeply familiar with this variety.

On a Friday morning in late fall, Joe stood at the podium in the M.S. 74 band room. Armed with only a conductors baton, he bravely tried to coax a harmony from the noise assaulting his ears.

One, two, three, four! Stay on the beat! Two, three, four Joe shouted, waving the baton in vain. He could barely make himself heard over the honking and shrieking of the horn section. Thats a C-sharp, horns!

CRASH! A trombonist knocked over her music stand. The trumpeter next to her was slouched so far down that he appeared to be playing into his navel. One of the saxophonists seemed to be playing the wrong song entirelyprobably because the kid was paying more attention to his cell phone than the sheet music.

Joe turned to Connie, a petite trombonist in the first row. She was his last hope. All you, Connie. Go for it!

Connie raised her trombone to her lips and began her solo. The notes rang out clear and strong over the cacophony. She closed her eyes, swaying as she played.

Joe smiled. Once in a blue moon, a student came along who made teaching almost seem worth it. Connie was one of those students. The kid was good.

But then the other kids started to laugh. Joe heard their snickers ricocheting around the room.

Connie heard them, too. She seemed to wilt in her chair. Her notes faltered.

Hang on, hang on! Joe hollered. He tapped the music stand with his baton. With a few honks and squeaks, the music ground to a halt.

What are yall laughing at? Joe asked sternly.

The students gave him blank looks.

So Connie got lost in it. Thats a good thing. Joe walked over to the piano. Still talking, he began to play. I remember one time, my dad took me to this jazz club. It was the last place I wanted to be. But then I see this guy playing piano. Joe ran his hands over the keys, riffing. Its like hes singing. And I swear, the next thing I know, its like he floats off the stage. That guy was lost in the music. He was in itand he took us with him. I wanted to learn how to talk like that. Thats when I knew I was born to play.

He ended with a flourish, then turned to look at his students. Connie knows what I mean. Right, Connie?

Connie shrank in her seat. She looked like she wanted disappear. Im twelve, she said.

A knock at the classroom door interrupted the moment. Ill be right back. Practice your scales, Joe told the class.

He stepped out into the hall. Ms. Arroyo, the school vice principal, was standing there. Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Gardner, she said. I wanted to deliver the good news personally. She handed Joe a letter.

Joe opened it and scanned the contents. With a shock, he realized it was a full-time job offerhis first ever.

No more part-time for you, the vice principal said, beaming. They finally cleared enough in the budget. Youre now our full-time band teacher! Job security. Medical benefits. Pension. She looked at Joe expectantly.

Wow. Thatsgreat, Joe managed.

Vice Principal Arroyo held out a hand for Joe to shake. Welcome to the M.S. 74 family, Joe. Permanently.

Joe forced himself to smile.

Permanently. The word echoed in Joes mind for the rest of the morning. He knew he should be happy. Hed barely been scraping by on his part-time salary. This job would change all that.

But his position at M.S. 74 was only supposed to be temporary, just something to keep him afloat until he got his big break. The only thing Joe wanted was to play great musicand not just for a bunch of half-awake middle schoolers.

When class let out that day, Joe still felt uncertain. He decided to go see his mother. Maybe she would have some words of advice. Not to mention that he had laundry to do.

Libba Gardner owned a small tailoring shop in Queens, New York. She was a tall, elegant woman in her sixties with cropped white hair and a no-nonsense attitude. As Joe folded his laundry, he filled her in on the job offer.

After all these years, my prayers have been answered! A full-time job! she said, clasping her hands together.

Yeah, Joe said heavily.

His mother fixed him with a stern look. Youre going to tell them yes, right?

Dont worry, Mom, Joe said. Ive got a plan.

Libbas lips pursed like shed sucked on a lemon. Youve always got a plan. Maybe you need to have a backup plan, too, for when your plan falls through.

Joe didnt know why he felt so stunned. Shed never supported his career choices. Why had he thought this time would be any different?

Libba sighed. Joey, she said in a softer voice, we didnt struggle giving you an education just so you could be a middle-aged man washing your underwear in my shop.

Yeah. But, Mom Joe began.

Libba cut him off. With this job, youll finally be able to put that dead-end gigging behind you.

Yeah, but

And just think, Libba went on, playing music will finally be your real career. So youre going to tell them yes, right?