The Writers' Circle

Chapter 3 
	It was a Saturday so we would be lucky if the doors into the school were unlocked. So we all piled into Emily's car that had gone through all 3 of her older brothers, and headed to our high school. When we arrived there the front doors were unlocked. 
	It was our lucky day. 
	"I hope we don't get in trouble for being here on a Saturday." Emily said, she never likes to be questioned for what she was doing. 
	"We wont. We will just tell the janitors that we wanted to look at the Track Records board if they ask, but we might have to wait till Monday to look at the band room plaques." Landon said with confidence. So we headed down all four flights of stairs to the locker rooms near the Track Record Board. 
	"Let's see, what was the guy's name exactly?" I asked not remembering what his first name was. 
	 "Kelton Katz," Emily replied, her eyes searching the board intently. 
	 Sure enough his name was there on the 4x4 relay team. However, we found another name that shocked us into next year. 
	"Are you all reading what I'm reading?" I said as I stared in disbelief. I heard several "yeah's," from my friends. 
	I couldn't believe it, there on the Track Records Board was my brother's name,, along with Kelton Katz, Kason Katz, and Alex West. 
	"I can't believe it, do you really think it is him?" Emily said in astonishment. 
	"I think it is, who else would spell Kristjan like that. Not many Americans spell it the Croatian way." I said, "On Monday we should ask the Laytons if they remember coaching him." The Laytons have been coaching the cross country and long distance track teams for the last fifteen years. 
	 "From the looks of it he was one fast guy. Looks like he set the school record in the mile and the half mile," Andrew said in amazement, "I can't believe we never noticed it since we are down here so much with cross country and track." 
	We looked at it for a few more minutes and then decided to go back to Emily's house and resume our search on the Internet. However as we walked down the main hallway past the band room, we saw Mr. Peters, our director, coming out the narrow hallway that lead to the band room. 
	"Hey, Mr. Peters, can you let us into the band room, there is something we want to look at," I said hopefully, suddenly remembering the plaques in the band room. 
	"What are you guys doing at school on a Saturday, I hope you didn't just get out of detention." Mr. Peters. replied back. 
	"No, we have been researching a few things about some of the firefighters that died on 9/11 and we saw one of them was from Rock Springs and Andrew here remembered seeing the name on the Track Records Board and on a plaque in the band room. So we came to check it out. We were going to wait till Monday to look in the band room, but since you're here would it be all right?" I replied tentatively, hoping he wouldn't question us further. 
	"Sure, I was just about to leave, but I think I have a few minutes to spare." Mr. Peters replied as he turned back down the narrow hallway to unlock the door. We followed him with excitement in out step. 
	"What brought on this, researching about the firefighters?" he asked curiously. My friends looked at me wondering if I wanted to tell him.
	 "Well, I met this man in the tower who looked so much like my brother, but I didn't find out what his name was in the confusion. I had tripped him and he helped me up. I was curious if he survived. It has been haunting me since 9/11. And then we came across Kelton Katz's name on one of the websites that had pictures of the firefighters that died, and we kind of got sidetracked when we found out he was from Rock Springs. We found his name on the Track Records Board along with my brother's name. It was quite a shock," I said as we walked down the narrow hallway into the band room. Mr. Peters knew that I had been at the World Trade Center that day. 
	 "Kelton Katz? I remember him. He was in my band for several years. He and his twin brother Kason were good kids. They hung out with Kristina Kobetz, and the boy they brought back from Croatia, Kristjan. I can't remember his last name because I could never pronounce it," Mr. Peters said. 
	"I think the Kristjan you knew was my brother," I said as my mind began to spin thinking that Mr. Peters  had known my brother. 
	"Wait you mean that Kristjan was your brother?" Mr. Peters asked in astonishment and realization. 
	"I never really knew my brother because he died when I was five. I thought he was dead until I saw that man on 9/11 and now I am not so sure that he actually died." I said as I looked at the plaques. 
	"Hey, look I found it. Looks like Kristjan and Kelton, and the other two on that 4x4 relay were a part of the jazz band that went to nationals and got first place," Andrew said while ushering everyone to the plaque he was looking at. 
	"I never made the connection that you had the same hard to pronounce last name that Kristjan had. You have always reminded me of someone, Luka, but I couldn't remember who. I only taught Kristjan for a year and a half or so before he and the Katz family moved away," Mr. Peters said, "Actually I think I have a picture of that jazz band in my office. Follow me." So we all followed Mr. Peters back out into the narrow hallway and to the right into his office. 
	"That is him, he looks a little older in this picture than the last picture we have of him." I said not believing that Mr. Peters had known my brother as he showed me the picture. 
	"Yeah he was a few months shy of sixteen when our jazz band found him while we were on tour in Europe with the jazz musician, Cole Ashley. It was crazy when Kelton and Kason met him again, because they had met while they were working in a refugee camp for Croatian refugees with their dad who volunteered as a doctor every other year with the Red Cross. You know what I just remembered something. Right before he moved with Kelton and Kason, he had a huge fight with his girlfriend, Kristina, and he ended up leaving a couple things here in the band room that I didn't notice until after they moved. Let me see, I think I put it in this filing cabinet thinking that he would come back and get it, but he never did. Here it is." Mr. Peters said happily as he handed Luka a notebook that looked to be bursting at the seems, and another smaller book.
	 "What is it?" Luka asked curiously as Mr. Peters handed it to him. I didn't pay attention to the smaller book, because as I opened the notebook I realized that this could be my brother's handwriting.  
	 "I think it is some kind of journal. It is all written in Croatian and I can't understand it. But it looks like he wrote a lot of songs and just wrote down whatever he was feeling. Kristjan went through some rough times after he came here. He suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for a while. Kristina, Kelton, and Kason helped him so much. By the time he left he was doing so much better emotionally. Losing his family was one of the hardest things that happened to him," Mr. Peters said remembering these 4 trombone players that had been in his band, "There was one time after a seventh hour lesson that he said to me that if it wasn't for music and all the friends he made in band he didn't think he could have survived going to high school. He said sometimes he felt like he is twice the age of many of his fellow students. At first I didn't realize what he had meant. But then I realized that emotionally he had dealt with a lot more than most of the students ever had or would. There were some kids who just didn't understand what he was going through and teased him for his accent and about some incidents that happened on school trips that involved his PTSD. But the kids in band were different. They just accepted him for who he was no matter what he was going through emotionally. There were days that I could tell his mind was not in the U.S. but in Croatia thinking about his family and all that had happened. Sometimes it was voluntary but other times he would just have flashbacks that would take him out of the moment for a few minutes." Mr. Peters said as I read a few lines. 
	"Thank you so much, Mr. Peters, you don't even know how much this means to me. For such a long time I have resented my brother and my father because my sisters and mother always talk about them when we are all together. Now that I have this journal I can now know him better and understand the way things happened. It looks like some of the songs in here are amazing. Did he ever play any of this for you?" I asked as I flipped through the journal. 
	"Yes, I remember one day I came into the band room early to listen to some playing tests, and the door was already open. A janitor must have let him in. As I walked down the hallway I could here this piano music that was nothing I had ever heard before. It was happy, sad, depressed, joyous, heart wrenching, and a thousand other emotions all at the same time. I listened for a few minutes before going in. After that moment I understood a little more of the emotions that were running through this boy. Here he was hardly 16 years old, had already served in a war, helped save lives, lost his family and everything he held dear and immigrated to America. Yet he still got up everyday and came to school and for the most part was able to act like a normal teenager, even though inside he was screaming inside wanting some relief. That relief came from his best friends Kristina, Kelton, and Kason, and many others from the band. Kristjan quickly learned how to play the trombone. They all played the trombone together, they were more than just a section they were family. I watched him grow so much and by the time that he moved away with Kason and Kelton, Kristjan had overcome so much emotionally that you would hardly know of the hardships he had gone through in the last year. However, there was one pain that I don't think ever quite heal. He had fallen head over heals for Kristina and vice versa. But Kristina's parents completely did not like that he was an immigrant and it resulted in some very bitter words here in this very band room the last week of school at the end of their junior year. I should just let you read the journal and it will probably explain much better than I ever could." Mr. Peters said with a very somber voice. 
	"Mr. Peters, do you know how to contact anyone that knew Kristjan?" Andrew said hesitantly, not wanting to break the silence that had blanketed the office since Mr. Peters had finished talking. 
	"No, I don't, no one was able to find out what Kristjan, Kelton, and Kason's address was once they moved. I think they just wanted to leave it all behind and start over fresh. As for Kristina, her and her parents also moved so that she could not be in contact with any of the them even though she had been childhood friends with Kelton and Kason. I'm sorry I can't help you there." Mr. Peters said. 
	 "Thank you, this is more that we had hoped for when we got here. But Luka's mom doesn't know that we are looking for Kristjan. So would you please not say anything to her just in case we are wrong about the man that Luka saw in the tower? I think it would be hard for her if she got her hopes up about seeing her son and then get them shattered. " Emily said. 
	I am so glad that Emily thought to say that because it would crush my mother if she thought that Kristjan was alive and then turned out to not be alive. 
	"Don't worry I wont say anything unless you tell me I can? The four of you remind me so much of them, they were great friends. Their trombone section was one of the best I have ever had. I can't believe that I never realized that you and Kristjan were related, Luka." Mr. Peters said. 
	After we got in the car there was an awed silence. We drove all the way back to Emily's house like that. We pulled into the driveway for a while we all sat in silence lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Emily said, "I think that we should let Luka go home and read the journal if that's what he wants." 
	"Thanks, Emily, you read my mind," I replied. So we all got out of the car and headed to our own houses, which are all on the same street.