Young Writers Society

The next day at band, we went straight outside to the field. Macy had said it would be fine if I stayed after, as long as I was done right at 4:30. Yesterday's interview had been canceled for some stupid reason, something about the employer having a fever, or the employer's cat having a fever. Whatever it was for, the meeting had apparently been rescheduled for 5:15 today. That meant I had to be out of rehearsal by 4:30... Probably wasn't going to happen if we're on "band director time", but I figured I'd try anyway.

I fiddled with the lanyard Mr. Connor had given me. I understood it well - it was the same sort of "system" we had used back in my old school. I had been given poker chips with my initials as well to mark my places on the field. We were supposed to walk, but Mr. Connor said it was fine if some of the people with their own vehicles drove up to the field. It was almost a little over a quarter mile, so not too far, but it did take about 5-10 minutes walking. In the sun. With my black shirt on. I wasn't too good at preparing when it came to weather. I was walking with Lillith, turned out she was also in band, though she was a clarinet - but a band geek nonetheless. A small red car, with its bass turned all the way up, drove past. I peered in the window as they did - looked like Jackson and a couple others from his section.

'Typical percussionists,' I thought, half smiling to myself. Lillith kept chatting the all the way up, and I'm surprised I wasn't sick and tired of her as soon as we reached the field. "You know, I don't know why some people feel like they don't need to sign their name on school paepers," she was saying, "I mean, it's not like they're signing their life away or anything."

After that she ran over to one of the upperclassmen on the field, shouting something cheerfully. Actually, I didn't mind. I was only half listening anyway. I was trying to find out how I was going to do this - get my spots I mean. I guess I'd start at the opener. Sets 0, 1 and 2. After finding out, much to my appreciation, that I started out right on the fifty yard line, I set the next two sets.

"Alright, lets set up in a visual block," Mr. Connor boomed over the megabox, followed by a high pitched piccolo like sound. "My bad," he said, snickering to himself like a child. He climbed up into the wooden stand, which honestly looked like it would collapse if a gust of wind hit it. Scratch that - it would collapse if a minor breeze blew on it.

I filled in the middle line - surprising myself by staying in the middle and not going to the right or left. 'Am I already getting used to these people,' I thought as Mason and the other trumpet player fell in beside me. Sebastian walked to the side of the lines, next to the my row. "Band 'attn hut!"

"With pride," everyone else replied. Except for me, of course. We had always just said 'hut'. Of course we had pride, but we never really said it.

"Band horns up!"

"And One," I snapped my trumpet up, surprised with everyone's intensity. It's like everyone actually wanted to be here. Stung by sweat bees, and covered in grasshoppers. That was more than I could say with my other band. All of us had had talent, but only a handful had actually worked hard. 'Shut up,' I thought to myself, 'that was, no is your family that you're talking about...' I marched forward eight steps as a percussionist gave us stick clicks. 'But now these people are your family.' After a while of marching fundamentals, we went to the first set.

I found myself next to Lillith and Mason. It was a diagonal row that ran all the way from the futes, to the clarinets, to the trumpets, and then to the baritones. Then, a second diagonal that passed through trombone, sousaphones, me, and then drum line. Something that looked like a giant 'x'. First, we marched without playing to set one. It was good practice for me, and we ran it about twenty times (some kid counted and told me). We then practiced one to two, about thirty times, and then added zero to two together. When we finally got it, Mr. Connor said we were going to add music to it. I kind of remembered the song - but just about six to eight measures. It was whole notes anyway.

"Alright, hold eight, move sixteen. That's zero to one. Let's try this out," he turned the megaphone off, and Sebastian counted us off.

The first eight counts, (the first two measures) we're actually fine. All we did was stood and played. When we actually moved, it was a whole different story. The marching was fine, but the music was a trainwreck. Knowing you're about to die - and watching it happen, but not being able to do anything about it. I stepped on the back of Lillith's heel, some kid tripped and fell, and I'm pretty sure another kid dropped their clarinet.

"Cut!" Mr. Connor's voice didn't affect us - we could hardly hear what with all the chaos. We finally got the jist when we saw him waving his arms frantically from the stand. When all was silent, he slapped his face. "Come on guys! You did great in the band room, and yesterday's rehearsal too! This isn't anything new! You're better than this, let's run it again, slower tempo." He snapped into the megaphone as we ran back to set zero.

The next run was a little better - but only because everyone was actually paying attention this time. Although becoming a great marching band wouldn't just happen overnight. After about five solid more runs on those sets, we added in set two - working from one to two, one to two, and then eventually back to zero through two. "This is exhausting," Lillith muttered while we ran back. 'That', I thought, agreeing with her, 'is the understatement of the year'. After a few more runs, he let us have a waterbreak. Only problem with that, was that I didn't have a water bottle. In 90 degree weather.

I walked over to Lillith hopefully, but she just shook her head and frowned. I licked my lips, parched. There - that flute player had water... She was from church - Izzy, Indigo, no Isabel or something like that. I walked over to her, smiling a little. "Mind if I have a drink?"

She shook her head, and handed me the bottle. Trying to be polite, I took only a small sip and handed it back. "Thanks," I said, and walked back onto the field. I pretty much could remember what my sets were by now, at least zero through two, so I reset my chips into three, four, and five. For the rest of the water break, I practiced going from one set to the other.

"Alright, let's try and run the show. Try." Mr. Connor's gaze fell on me. "Alexandra, sit out for this - and don't play." Kind of schocked, I went to the sidelines and sat down. Honestly, I knew why he was doing this - I didn't know any of my sets except for zero through five, but I was stilll mad. It was frustrating not being able to contribute anything to the group. I'd have to practice extra hard tonight.

As they ran throught the show, I tried to think of the song City Lights from the band room the other day. I didn't know all the notes - but I knew the melody. I could hear it okay from here, but I knew there would be more sound if I knew the show, and was playing it. After the final note was played, Mr. Connor nodded from the top of the stand.

"I'll admit it was a good rehearsal today - but it wasn't a great rehearsal. We can't stop here, at average, we have to keep going, good to great. At ease," he started climbing down the ladder. "Remember after school rehearsal tomorrow til 4:30."

I stood up and walked over to Lillith. She was sweating and breathing heavily. "I need... A drink." She pointed over to another clarinetist who was heading for a car. 'Probably hers,' I thought to myself as she swung keys around in her hand. "I'm going, to ride with May... You want to come?" I nodded, walking to May's car with her.

By the time we had reached May's car, Lillith had caught her breath. "You mind if Alexandra comes with us," she asked May, who had her door still open.

"Nope, hop in." I got into the back seat with Lillith. "I'm just waiting for Marigold - she wanted a ride too," May said, starting her car. About a minute or so later a clarinetist with long blong curls tied up slid into the passenger seat.

"Thanks May," she commented, sighing a bit.

"Yep." May pulled off of the field and onto the blacktop. I looked over at Lillith, sweating (this time, not because I was nervous). Glancing up at the digital clock built into May's car, I winced. 4:37. Macy was not going to be happy. I might of been back to the band room if I had walked by now... 'I'll have to hurry once I get into the band room,' I thought to myself as we pulled into the school parking lot about five minutes later.

Mr. Connor had already unlocked the side door, so we just entered straight into the band room. I quickly packed up my trumpet, my backpack, and I secretly took up extra sheet music for the four songs we were playing in this years' show. 'Mr. Connor never said I couldn't take the music home to practice,' I thought as I rushed out the door to Macy's car. She was parked right up front, and though her eyes were hidden from the car's sun visor, I could already tell she was mad. Her face was twisted into what looked like a permanent scowl.

I jumped in the car, and she peeled out of onto the road. Carefully, I tested her emotions, trying to see how mad she really was. "So," I drew out the word, fiddling with my trumpet case. Macy nearly ran past a red light. "How was your day?"

"Don't play with me," she growled, screeching onto Main Street. "I told you we needed to be out of there by 4:30." I puffed out my cheeks, letting out a long slow breath. Oh, Macy was mad all right. She was fuming.

"I know, and I came back as soon as I could, we didn't actually get done until-"

"This can't be a regular thing, Alexandra." Macy pulled onto a side street, gripping the steering wheel.

"What can't," I asked, though I already knew what was coming. I braced myself for an argument.

"I'm the one that let you stay after school. I had set rules, and you chose to disobey them," she stated plainly, her voice tense. 'Hold on a minute', I thought to myself, 'I chose to disobey her? I didn't chose to disobey anyone - it just, happened.' Okay, I admit it sounded sort of stupid, even in my head, but I didn't chose to get out late!

"I chose to disobey you? I chose to get out late?" I laughed at this, sarcastic. "I didn't chose any of this!" Suddenly everything caught up with me at once. The new school, confusing marching band, too many friendly people, whatever 'jersey boy' was, e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. I was a shaken up can of pop, about to explode - and then something opened me. "I didn't want to disobey you! I didn't want to leave my old school to come to this one! I didn't want to leave my old beautiful home for a crappy apartment! I didn't want to have my entire life ripped away from my bare hands - and believe it or not, I don't care anymore. So ground me, do what you want - because I don't care." I looked sharply to the left, my hands shaking. I already knew my face was red, and after that would come the tears.

Macy drove in silence, clearly surprised by my vicious reply. I normally was cool about anything that happened - and even when I figured out we had to move, I had yelled at myself, alone. Not at someone else. When we pulled into The Supermarket, Macy just handed me the keys, told me she'd be back, and ran in.