Allegra by Shelley Hrdlitschka

help.
    After about ten minutes, in which I do nothing but watch, Mr. Rocchelli asks the students to return to the circle. He’s moved the chairs so that they are all facing a portable whiteboard.
    â€œGreat,” he says, when everyone is seated. “I heard some really awesome stuff going on. How about you, Allegra?”
    I just nod.
    â€œSo let’s continue our work on transposition—changing a piece of music from one key to another. What is the most important thing to remember when we are transposing?”
    My mind wanders as the lesson continues. I watch as Mr. Rocchelli draws responses from his students. He does it in such a way that if they make a mistake, they still feel okay about it. “That’s not quite right, Zoe, but you’d be absolutely correct if we were working in a minor key.” “You’re so close, Conner. Want to give it another try?”
    Spencer answers a question correctly, and Mr. Rocchelli praises him. My mind wanders back to last night. I remember how his shoulder pressed against mine while we listened to the music. I hadn’t felt panicky at all, just completely comfortable. Spencer sees me studying him and smiles. I smile back, then look away. Where has the easiness from last night gone?
    Mr. Rocchelli hands out sheets of music. The students are to transpose them into the key indicated at the top of the page. Each student receives a different sheet. They spread out around the room, most of them using music stands to write on.
    I walk around, feeling totally self-conscious about my role as teacher-helper. Why did I agree to do this? It won’t happen again. I try to avoid Spencer—I feel especially awkward about helping him—but eventually I find myself near the table he is working at. I pull up a chair and look at his work. He’s finished, and his transposition is flawless.
    â€œLooks like you know what you’re doing,” I whisper.
    â€œI do,” he admits.
    â€œMaybe you could challenge the course too,” I suggest. “You could help me with my project. A team effort.”
    â€œI’d like that,” he whispers. “But I’m afraid there’s still a lot of stuff I don’t know.”
    â€œI’ll tutor you,” I say.
    He just smiles and looks away. Then a funny expression crosses his face. I follow his gaze to see what he’s looking at. It’s Julia, and she is clearly unhappy to see us talking together. I won’t be a bit surprised if she accuses me of doing Spencer’s work for him. I get up and wander around the room some more, being especially careful to avoid Julia.
    Eventually Mr. Rocchelli collects the assignments, and then he sits at the piano. “Call out the name of the scale I’m playing,” he says.
    For the last fifteen minutes of class, I watch as he challenges the students to name harder and harder scales and chords. He makes it fun. I find my gaze constantly returning to Spencer, but I quickly look away if he glances at me.

    As agreed, I meet Mr. Rocchelli back in the portable at lunchtime. I follow him into the sound room, and once again I’m aware of how tiny it is and how close we have to be to work together.
    â€œI’ll leave the door open,” I tell him. “It gets so warm in here.” Nodding absently, he sits down and plugs my flash drive into the computer. I sit in the other chair to listen to what I’ve done.
    â€œIt’s just a bunch of ideas right now,” I tell him when the piece ends.
    â€œI realize that,” he says, looking up at me. “But I’m impressed anyway. I can barely recognize my own simple tune. What program did you record this on?”
    â€œLogic Pro. That’s what my dad uses. He helped me record this.”
    â€œGreat! That’s what we have here too, so you’ll be able to work at home as well as at school. How much do you already know about Logic Pro?”
    â€œHardly