He was in charge of the instruments for the junior orchestra, seeing that they were kept in good condition and got put away properly. He was the secretary of the student government and kept meticulous minutes of the bimonthly meetings, spiced by a playful but never nasty wit directed at the self-importance of his fellow officers. He sorted press releases and discount ticket offers for Miss Hirsch, the assistant principal, and kept her bulletin board of concerts and museum exhibits up to date, sometimes adding reviews he cut out of newspapers and magazines. Philip himself had been surprised that the coveted High School of Music and Art had accepted him, so he could hardly blame Aunt Marsha and Uncle Mel for their astonished faces. He’d kept up his piano lessons, not only because he loved the power of making music, but because they were a reminder of his old life, one of the few tangible reminders. He remembered how his mother had encouraged him, and when he was in good form he imagined he was playing for her.
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