Free Freakling by Lana Krumwiede

front of the room. Meanwhile, he walked around the classroom, weaving between the students, tilting his head and listening intently.
    As the teacher made his way to the back of the room, Taemon found it more difficult to concentrate. He couldn’t seem to stay with the beat.
    Brother Usaro stopped next to Taemon and waited for the end of the song.
    Taemon wanted to groan.
    “The foundation for every orchestra is the percussion. We’ll start with the bass drum.”
    Why had he thought this could work? His plan was unraveling on the very first day of music class!
    Brother Usaro stood right behind him. “Lay down a steady beat for us, Taemon.”
    The drum was on its stand. Taemon stood next to it and casually rested his thumb on the lever. He played, keeping his body as still as possible like all musicians did. The idea was that movement or facial expressions might distract from the music itself. Taemon had to move his thumb a squinch, but he positioned his body to shield the movement from the teacher’s view.
    Brother Usaro rubbed his chin. “Hmm. Something’s not right. Let me try.”
    Taemon held his breath as Brother Usaro played the drum himself.
    “Seems okay,” he muttered. “Let’s hear you play one more time.”
    Again Taemon assumed his casual position, which he had rehearsed carefully at home, moved his thumb in place, and played the drum.
    “Aha! I see what you’re doing.”
    Taemon flinched and prepared for the worst.
    “You are mistakenly applying psi to the inside of the drum and pushing it outward,” Brother Usaro said. “It’s a subtle difference, but I can see it now. I want you to use your psi to push on the outside of the drum. Push it inward, not outward. Try again.”
    Skies! How was he supposed to push inward? The mallet only worked one way. Taemon took his position and played the drum the only way he could, which was exactly the same way he had played it a moment ago.
    “No, that’s still not right,” Brother Usaro said.
    Taemon bit his lip and screwed up his face, hoping to imitate utmost concentration. “I’ll get it this time.”
    He played again. The same way.
    Brother Usaro frowned.
    The class murmured, and Taemon heard them shifting in their seats. He looked at Brother Usaro and shrugged. “I guess I’ve been practicing the wrong way all this time. It might take me a while to change.”
    Brother Usaro nodded. “Keep trying. You’ll get it.” He moved on to the other percussionists.
    Taemon closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the Heart of the Earth.
    Uff!
The psiball hit Taemon in the stomach. He and Moke had been practicing psiball for two hours in Moke’s backyard.
    “Perfect!” Moke yelled. “That’s exactly what we need. If you block the ball with your body, it doesn’t matter how much psi the other team has. Let’s do it again.”
    “This time I’ll throw the ball and you do the
uff,
” Taemon said.
    Moke laughed. “You’ll never get an
uff
out of me.”
    After weeks of practice, their strategies were finally coming together. When the ball got past Moke and rolled into the weeds, they decided to call it quits for the day. Then, as had become their custom, they collapsed on the grass to discuss strategy.
    “Here’s what I think we should to do,” Moke said. “If we get to a point in the game where we need to move the ball with psi — I’m not talking about a lot, just a squinch — then I say we use it.”
    Taemon watched a beetle crawl over his shoe. “I thought the whole point was not using psi. I mean, not for ball handling anyway.”
    Moke shrugged. “All I’m saying is, if it comes down to winning the game or not, I’m not above using a tiny bit of psi to move the ball.”
    “I guess you’re right.”
    “You bet your sweet binky I’m right.” Moke said. “We have to win at least one game this weekend.”
    “This weekend?” Taemon sat up.
    “Cha. The tournament. I signed us up.”
    “Skies! I told you I can’t do