Hi, everyone! A few weeks ago, I started writing mentoring with one of my favorite authors Rachel Coker. Every Thursday, she sends me a writing assignment and on Tuesday I send her back the finished writing assignment. Then she critiques it, and I edit it or add onto the assignment and send it back. It’s a lot of fun, and this one I decided to post on my blog. It started out as my first assignment, to write about one of my most embarrassing moments, (a page or two) and turned into a fiction story about how the rest of my day went. Enjoy!

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  I walked into the band room, my bulging backpack and lunchbox in tow, making my way to the back of the room to get my instrument. My band teacher, Miss Clark, pointed to the whiteboard as people made their way to their seats, giggling and shuffling about for their reeds and tools to play their instrument, and others putting their instruments together without a word, waiting for class to begin. Miss Clark is so pretty, I thought to myself, wondering if she was married or not. Does she have kids? Surely she’s not that old… she’s like a Barbie doll! I grinned at my friend across the room and headed to the storage room where my flute case sat waiting on the shelves.

  I stood on tiptoes to reach my case as my eyes wandered past the other flute cases all lined up along the shelf until my gaze steadied on the one with a flowered luggage tag labeled with my name on it. I reached for my flute and carried it ever-so-carefully towards my assigned seat in the very front row of the room. I sighed in awe over Miss Clark. She’s so very talented, and always wears the cutest clothes. I hope she likes me…

  “Emily!” a girl in the back hissed. She was holding her tuba in her lap like a professional, her music book out in front of her. I turned my head and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Hm-” I began, tripping over two music stands in the process, suddenly I found myself flat on the floor, my flute case and backpack sent flying several feet away. As someone reached to help me up, I glanced around the room, flustered, and picked up my flute and bag. Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall… Humpty Dumpty had a great fall… all the king’s horses and all the king’s horses couldn’t put Humpty back together again! I thought to myself, and stifled a laugh.

  My face still burned, though, and as I looked up, I  caught Miss Clark shuddering and folding her arms across her chest. Kids snickered and this time, I walked very slowly to my seat, watching out for obstacles in the way and sat down awkwardly. I turned my head and a red-headed boy whose name I didn’t know stood in the back with his case, laughing and pretending to trip, mocking me. Miss Clark didn’t see, so I scowled and found my seat.  I bit my lip and blinked up at my new teacher, embarrassed, as I opened my music book up to the page she had written on the board.

  Even her handwriting is perfect, I thought as I sucked my cheek and prayed that the floor would please, please open up and swallow me. I looked up as I assembled my flute at two girls who also played the flute. They saw me staring at them and began giggling as they fingered their flutes and started practicing the newest song we’d learned the day before. I sighed and smiled, trying to shake off the embarrassing fall and did the same, murmuring the names of the notes as I rehearsed my warm-up lines in my head.

 I  heard laughter again behind me, and again the same boy who mocked my fall was shaking his head at me. Pea brain, I thought, but didn’t say anything, not wanting to cause more attention to myself or let Miss Clark see.

   “Does anyone have a pen?” Miss Clark asked the flutes section, and we all fumbled for one in our backpacks. Everyone wanted to impress Miss Clark. “Here,” I handed her my favorite red ink pen, hoping it would protect my good reputation in front of Miss Clark after my unfortunate trip several minutes before. She nodded a thank-you and started in the back with the tubas as we all played our newest line for a grade.

  I stared into space as she progressed, every so often checking the clock to see how much time the class had left. A bad hair day, sure, but then there was the bad science grade and ants in my locker. I thought band would make things better, but instead I had to go and trip in front of everyone! And by everyone… well, I mean Miss Clark.

  I heard laughter again behind me, and again the same boy who mocked my fall was shaking his head at me. Pea brain, I thought sarcastically, but didn’t say anything, not wanting to cause more attention to myself or let Miss Clark see.

  “Check that reed to see if it’s chipped, Martin,” Miss Clark advised a clarinetist. “Blow more air,” she suggested to a baritone player. When she got to me, I was busy twisting my blue-and-green friendship bracelet to notice. “Emily?” Miss Clark repeated, raising her eyebrows at me. “Oh – um…” I trailed off, and found the song in my book.

  I lifted the instrument to my lips and blew across the flute, the words of the song floating in my head as my fingers searched for the right positions to play the song.  Go… D… no, E flat… Tell Aunt… umm… Rho-die… er- “I’ll come back to you,” Miss Clark paused as she moved onto the next flutist next to me, who, of course, played the song without a hitch. I slumped in my chair and foolishly messed with my flute, going over the notes in my head and wondering what kept me from practicing this week.

  Well, it wasn’t my science test, because I bombed that quiz, I thought bitterly, just as the bell rang. “Come in early tomorrow morning and I’ll go over the song with you, Em,” Miss Clark said to me as I packed my flute back up and pulled my book bag over my shoulder. I nodded and carried my things out to my next class, where a paper airplane soared and hit my forehead. “Ouch!” the airplane dropped to the floor and I looked around for the pilot.

   The red-headed boy across the room grinned at me and turned to his friend. My brow furrowed as I hurried to find a seat next to one of my closest friends. “How was the playing test?” she whispered to me as the teacher began to drone on about the geography of Canada and Eskimos and who-knows-what-all, I tuned out to respond, “Ugh… don’t ask.” Maisie laughed and leaned over to get a pencil out of her bookbag when I suddenly remembered: I took my pencils out at home to sharpen them with my dad’s good electric sharpener… and left them there!

  My stomach churned. Mrs. Owen was a stickler for being prepared. The last kid who didn’t have a pencil earned a detention! Did you hear? Shame, shame… I could hear it all play out in my head, complete with the theme song from Jaws playing in the back of my head. I can’t earn a detention… before I could get caught for talking again to Maisie, I reached across the aisle and stole her pencil. She gave me a quizzical look, but then nodded her understanding and got another one for herself.

  It seemed like hours later when Mrs. Owen said my name. I blinked. “Hmm-”

“What is the capital of Canada, Emily?” My heart pounded. What? Umm… O. It starts with an O. Ot… “Otter?” No! That can’t be it! Otter? Really?! But it was too late. “Otter” was the first thing that came to mind, and Mrs. Owen already caught me mid-daydream.

  I looked down and bit my lip, wondering if this day could get any worse. I began  tapping my pencil on my desk, imagining a cover of my first book, The Series of Embarrassing Events, by Emily Cope. Then, on the copyright page, Any  similarities to real persons, alive or dead, is completely intentional and intended by the author.

  Mrs. Owen sighed and shook her head. “What is the capital of Canada…? Jeremiah?” The very same red-headed boy she called on smirked at me from across the room, and then gave Mrs. Owen a sly smile and said, “Ottawa.” Mrs. Owen breathed a sigh of relief, and nodded.

“Yes, very good, Jeremiah. REMEMBER, class, we have a quiz on Canada this Monday.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, and I shrunk in my seat.

    “Otter?” Maisie began laughing, and I shrugged, holding my books close to my chest as we walked to our lockers. “I knew it was Ottawa, I just…”

“Had a brain fart? I know, just…. Otter. You said ‘Otter.’” she grinned. “I thought you loved social studies!” she me.

  I smiled. “I do! But… I love history. Not geography.”

“Well, you know what they say…” I tilted my head to the side. “You know… ‘why did the otter cross the road?’” I shook my head.

“Never heard of it,” I replied, about to go a different way than her.

“‘To prove to the possum that it could be done!” she laughed.

  I grinned. “Thanks, Maisie,” I gave her a small smile.

“Cya tomorrow. And don’t worry, you’ll get it eventually.” She waved as we parted ways and I turned down another hallway, making my way through the throngs of people.

    Tomorrow, tomorrow… I love ya, tomorrow… what a horrible day. I gathered my things and headed to the bus ports, wrapping my scarf around my neck for extra protection from the bitter wind. No snow, just hard wind. It’s a hard knock life… for us! Wow, Annie has a lot of relatable songs. I smiled to myself and boarded my school bus.

  I pulled out my newest Nancy Drew mystery and started reading, and as our bus pulled out onto the main road, someone tapped my shoulder. I looked up, surprised. “Hey, isn’t that your mom’s car?” My head swiveled and looked out the window past the girl who sat next to me in our seat. And sure enough, my mom’s car sat in the carpool lane… waiting to pick me up. Oh no…

  I leaned over to see out the window, and watched as our bus passed by. I closed my eyes and then opened them, trying to focus on my book, only to get a knot in my stomach at the thought of my mom sitting there, worried… is dad even home? As horrible as the day was, this is just my luck.

  When I stepped off the bus, a clap of thunder sounded and I found my dad standing at the busstop, an umbrella above his head. He handed me a smaller pink one and frowned. “Didn’t I remind you to take an umbrella in case it started to rain?” I looked down at my sopping sneakers, now soaked through my socks because of all the puddles. “Well, it wasn’t raining when I came out of school…”

  “How did you forget your mom was picking you up? I’m glad I came home when your mom called, I just came back from a meeting.” I looked up at him and pursed my lips.

“I guess I had an all-day brain fart,” I explained. He laughed and pulled me into his arms as we walked around the corner back to the house,  relieved that it was Friday.