Ryan had a reed. This was oddly amusing because Ryan played trombone. He stared at the reed lying innocently upon the knotted wood of his kitchen table as he sipped tea, deciding what to do with it. Burn it? Keep it? ‘Maybe I should take up clarinet?’ he thought, but quickly dismissed that idea; he played brass: the woodwinds were his enemies.

A deep, warm sound floated in through Ryan’s kitchen window and caught his attention. Slowly standing, he followed it into the sitting room and then out into the foyer. Ryan opened his front door and stepped out into the cool night air. For a moment he stopped, looking out over the peaceful fields and rolling hills of the Shired (for that was where most brass players lived in this divided world of brass and woodwinds). Ryan then remembered why he was outside in the first place.

He followed the sound to the front of his house. The light from the fire in his sitting room shone through the window and caught something large and shiny in the garden.

“Robbie?”

A boy that looked an awful lot like Ryan stood up from amongst the flowers and vegetables, only to almost topple over from the weight of a large silver sousaphone wrapped around his middle.

“Oh…hey Ryan…”

“Robbie, are you playing to the flowers again?” Ryan said to his twin brother. Robbie shrugged as much as he could with his instrument.

“Well, you know, they say that if you talk to plants and stuff that they’ll grow more,” he said, a whining stutter present in his voice. “So I thought, since my sunflower hasn’t been growing too good this year I’d...maybe…” he gestured with one hand while holding his sousaphone with the other.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Never mind all that.” He took his brother’s elbow and pulled him inside the house. Once standing in the foyer, Robbie wrenched his arm from Ryan’s grasp. “Jesus, I almost tripped back there! Big instrument here!” When Ryan didn’t say anything and simply walked back into the kitchen, Robbie set his sousaphone down by the door and followed him.

“What’s eating you?” he called.

“There’s a reed on the table.”

“Oh yeah, Travis left that here earlier,” said Robbie, pausing to take a large bite of pound cake that he had picked up from atop the stove.

“Which Travis?” Ryan asked, sitting down at the table. “There’s, like, three.”

“Trumpet Travis,” Robbie replied. “Tall trumpet Travis.” He held his free hand in the air above his head to indicate the Travis of whom he was speaking.

“How’d he get a reed?’

“’Dunno,” said Robbie, sitting down in front of his brother. “Probably found it. You know how he’s always picking stuff up off the ground.”

“Very true,” Ryan replied.

Robbie held his plate out to his brother. “Cake?” he offered, to which Ryan simply answered “No.” The next few moments were silent, save for the sounds of Robbie munching on his cake and Ryan drinking his tea.

Ryan stopped and stared at the window. Robbie looked up. Drifting through the window was the sound of footsteps; slow, shuffling footsteps. It intrigued Ryan as he listened. Slowly, Ryan and Robbie simultaneously stood from their seats, and then, in a flurry of matching dark hair and tanned skin, the brothers both rushed to the open window, pushing each other aside in their attempts to get there first.

Ryan elbowed Robbie. Robbie shoved Ryan’s face away. Ryan managed to squeeze past his brother and lean somewhat out the window. “What are you looking at?” demanded Robbie. Ryan held a finger to his lips to silence his brother.

“Don’t you shush me---!”

Ryan slapped a hand over Robbie’s mouth, and leaned once again out the window. Trudging up the dirt path that ran in front of the Salazar home was a cloaked figure.

“Wha?” said Robbie, muffled through Ryan’s hand still clamped over his mouth. “Wha ith i?”

“Shush, Robbie.”

At first glance, Ryan couldn’t recognize the person. But then he realized. Ryan smiled a goofy grin and let go of his brother, sprinting through the sitting room and out into the foyer.

“Instrument! INSTRUMENT!”

Ryan near missed running smack into Robbie’s sousaphone, still sitting by the door. Wrenching said door open, Ryan was hit with a blast of cool air. Ignoring the chill, he ran down the stone walkway that led from the threshold. He followed the wire-crafted fence that surrounded their house and headed into the garden, not listening to Robbie’s shouts of “Idiot you’re gonna squish my flowers!” from the door.

Ryan leaned over the wire fence that surrounded the house and looked over the small grassy hill it sat on to spot the traveler on the road. He waved his arm high over his head to attract the person’s attention. Robbie had joined him by the fence and was trying to wrestle his arm back to his side.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he stage whispered. “You don’t have any clue who that is! It could be a serial killer! Or some wanted criminal rapist who’s going to murder us and then chop us up into little bite sized bits and then store us in individual Publix bags and then toss us with the recyclables…Ryan…I’m to cute to be recycled just yet…”

“Robbie, you need to stop staying up late with Travis on Horror Movie Marathon night. It’s not good for you,” Ryan said, letting Robbie snap his arm down to his side. “Besides, I know exactly who this is!” Ryan turned when he saw the stranger start to walk up the pathway to their gate.

“Ryan what are you--! Oh, never mind…”

Ryan opened the gate with a squeak and led the visitor into their house, Robbie sulking along behind. Once the front door was shut and Robbie’s sousaphone was out of the way, the traveler flipped the hood of his cloak back and revealed his face to the two twin brothers.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Robbie. “Mr. Edwards?!”

“Yes sir, Robbie Salazar,” said the band director. Robbie gaped like a fish on dry land, and Ryan had to suppress a snicker. Mr. Edwards then turned to his drum major.

“And good evening to you, Ryan.”

“Good evening Mr. Edwards,” Ryan replied. “You can hang up your coat on the coat rack if you like.” He pointed to the corner where a coat rack stood solemn, but weighed down by a few of the brothers’ heavy coats.

“Thank you, Ryan.”

Ryan nodded to Robbie and he took the director’s cloak form him while Ryan rushed to the kitchen to reheat some of the tea he had made earlier. He quickly took the reed from the table and stored it in the coffee jar. He didn’t want Mr. Edwards to know that he had a reed, of all things.

Just as he was pouring three cups of stale but okay tea, Robbie and Mr. Edwards entered the kitchen. The three sat at the table and Ryan distributed their cups. It was not until they were settled with tea and the leftovers of Robbie’s pound cake did Ryan ask Mr. Edwards why he was there.

“Well Ryan,” he started. “I’ve heard that there’s a reed missing---.” Ryan and Robbie glanced at each other and swallowed hard. Mr. Edwards continued. “---and I was wondering if you two had seen anything?”

Ryan didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. He was lost for words, and his brother wasn’t helping much either.

He took a shaky breath and...

“Itwasn’thisfaultIdidn’taskhimtogetitbutTravisjustleftithereandIdidn’tknowwhattodoand…and…”

“Robbie!” Ryan exclaimed.

“Sorry…” Robbie looked utterly sheepish. “It just kinda…slipped out...”

Ryan glared momentarily before shaking his head.

“Now what’s this about Travis?” said Mr. Edwards.

“Well, you see, it goes like this…” Ryan got up and walked to the coffee jar, picking it up and placing it in the middle of the table. “I’ve got something here that I probably shouldn’t have…”