Young Writers Society

Macy nodded and led me out. Jumping into her beige cavalier, she started it up. I sat down next to her in the soft cushioned passenger seat. Macy peeled out of the parking lot, and onto the main street that ran through town. As the whir of small shops and buildings went by, my train of thought shifted tracks.

"Are there any restraunts here," I asked Macy, trying to keep my voice light.

Macy stopped at an intersection. "Actually yes, but they're family owned and operated. A place called Irene's Pizza, and Wellsdon Cafe. I think Irene's has a few sandwiches along with pizza and drinks. I heard that the cafe has a lot more to offer though - homemade sandwhiches and scones and things. We can eat there tomorrow if you want," she said and rolled forward as the light changed.

I nodded. "That could be fun..." I was trying to think of Wellsdon not as a new place, just a really modified Jugopolis. Hopefully some new places to eat might help that thought. Macy took a left onto a "Warrior Run". 'This must be the where the school is located,' I thought, remembering back to the Wellsdon High School mascot - a warrior. A while later Macy turned into a parking lot filled with about ten or fifteen cars.

"Just what I thought," Macy murmured taking a parking spot in the middle. She turned off the car and looked at me. "The teachers are probably here organizing lessons last minute or something. Want me to go in with you?" I nodded quickly. There was no way I was going in to that death trap alone!

We both strode up to the front door, and walked into the building. The room we had walked into had a light grey carpet, and a long ninety degree angle desk. Behind it were three older woman, each either typing furiously into their computers or scribbling onto papers. Macy cleared her throat, and the woman nearest looked up. She smiled, slightly irrated that she was interupted.

"May I, help you?" Her voice was old and rusted, seasoned with a hint of sarcasm.

Macy smiled at the lady, despite her rude welcome. "Yes, my name is Macy Gardin, and this is my cousin, Alexandra." I nodded politely at the woman. "We are new in the neighborhood, and were wondering if we could tour the school for Monday." The woman scowled, and muttered something about 'boring', and 'newbie' under her breath. At that moment a tall man, about 6'3", strode in confidently. He was wearing a dark grey suit and red tie, and his oaky brown hair was cut short. 'Must be the principal,' I thought, by the way he walked like he "owned" everything. He probably almost did!

At the sight of the man, the woman's voice changed. "Oh, yes deary," she crowed innocently. "Mr. Frost, these two young ladies would like a tour of the High School. They're new in town."

Mr. Frost looked down on me and Macy. "Well, I have an appointment at 6:15, but I'm sure I can find someone for a tour, Mrs..."

"Ms. Gardin," Macy said, nodding, "and this is Alexandra." I smiled, again. What else was I supposed to do?

Mr. Frost nodded, rubbing his hands together. "Did you fill out any of the registration forms?"

"I'm not sure - I think I filled all of them out."

"How about you stay here with Mrs. Willson," he nodded towards the lady at the desk, "and I'll call Mr. Spield up to the office to give you a tour," he smiled warmly at me. "He's the school janitor." Mr. Frost pressed a button on the desk and spoke into a small microphone. "Mr. Spield to the office please, Mr. Spield to the office."

I looked at Macy quickly. "Will you find me as soon as you're done?" I whispered nervously like a little kid.

"Of course," she whispered back, and walked over to Mrs. Willson. Just a second later, a short bearded man in a blue and grey uniform walked in. He held his hands behind his back.

"Mr. F-frost? You needed me," he asked, his voice lite and jittery.

"Yes, will you give this young lady a tour of the school? She's new here, so make her feel welcomed," he winked and I walked over to Mr. Spield, still nervous. The short man nodded, and relaxed a little when he walked out of the office.

"So you're new here?" He took a piece of gum out of his pocket and popped it in his mouth.

"Yes."

"Fresh meat this year? You a freshman?"

"Yes."

He gave me a sideways glance as he talked. "Not much of a talker, are you? Well, that's alright. I wasn't much of a talker in High School either." He paused, turning left. "So, do you take Geometry or Algebra?"

"Algebra," I said, struggling to keep up with his surprisingly fast pace.

"Alright. You'll be in Ms. Heffing's class, room 114." He stopped abrubtly pointing into a dark room. "Next stop, English. Lucky for you, that's just 2 doors down - room 116." He continued on, pointing to a room on the left. "Let's see, life or physical science?"

"Physical."

"All right, you'll be in Mr. Topper's class - rhymes with copper." He pointed to another room, room 119. "He also teaches Health, so you'll have him twice a day. History is right across from his room," he said turning around. "It's taught by Mrs. Una. She's fun, but a bit crazy." He shook his head. "Weird messes to clean up in there," he muttered under his breath, and started walking again.

Relaxing a bit myself, I spoke. "Where to now?"

"Cafeteria and gym. They're side by side," he replied, blowing a bubble. A while later we reached the cafeteria. It wasn't very big - but it was big enough for a small school. "Mostly serve pretty good stuff, except on Wednesdays. Always pack on Wednesdays."

"Why?"

"Because it's pea-soup day. Every Wednesday." He used his key and unlocked another door. Inside was a large gym, complete with two sets of bleachers on each side. 'Too bad I'm not an athlete...' I thought to myself in wonder.

Mr. Spield turned back to me, clasping his hands together. "Alright, end of very short tour. Anything I missed?"

"Where's the band room?"

Mr. Spield raised his eyebrows. "So you're that kind of kid," he muttered just loud enough for me to here. "Follow me," he said, leading me out of the gym and cafeteria. We passed by my classrooms again, and this time, went straight instead of turning back to go to the office. "It's straight at the end, you can actually go through it to go out of the building." He stopped beside a door at the end of the hallway. "Here we are."

My heart raced as I peered through the tiny rectangular window. Inside, a dozen or so stands and chairs sat neatly in rows, and in front of them, the director's podium. I pulled back, my palms slick. "Can I go in?"

Mr. Spield frowned, but unlocked the door. "Knock yourself out," he said, following me in.

The room was a lot smaller than I had imagined - at my old school there were at least seventy to ninety members in the band. 'Here, there are only about fourty,' I reminded myself. Or at least fourty in marching band. I walked forward towards the podium, my eyes wide. There were cabinets, probably for percussion instruments on the far wall, and to the left, stacked chairs and stands barred the way. I looked at the podium, less than a yard away. I could almost see the power radiating from off of it. Suddenly, I had the urge to practice, my trumpet, anything music. It was amazing how a room could inspire you to do so much...

I walked back to Mr. Spield. "I'm finished, thank you."

"Sure thing," he said, and we began our trek back to the office. Once inside, I thanked Mr. Spield again, and he went off to work. Macy looked up from Mrs. Willson.

"Almost done," she whispered, and looked back down at Mrs. Willson.

"Are you the legal guardian?" She asked, her voice now monotone - probably due to the fact she had done this with every other student before.

"Yes," Macy said, struggling to keep her voice from growling.

"Then sign here and here, and you're done," she said as I walked over to Macy. After Macy finished signing, she smiled.

"Thank you, Mrs. Willson. We will see you on Monday." Mrs. Willson just nodded and started typing again. As soon as we reached the car, I spoke.

"Can you drop me off at the apartment? I was going to finish unpacking before tomorrow. Macy nodded, a little reluctantly.

"Okay, I'll be back around 9:00. I'll just get a few groceries to keep us prepared for this week." The ride home seemed long - as if time itself didn't want me to get there. When we finally pulled in next to our apartment, I couldn't contain my excitement. Macy handed me a spare key, and I jumped out of the car.

"See you later," I called over my shoulder as I unlocked and opened the door. Swinging it shut behind me, I laid the spare key down on the plastic table, and raced to my room. Once inside, I flipped open my trumpet case. Quickly sliding my mouthpiece in, I set up my stand and placed a packet of warm-ups onto it. I closed my eyes, willing to remember the band room.

At first, I couldn't see anything, but then, there it was! The stands, the chairs, the power-radiating podium...even the small stain on the floor I had quietly noted to myself. I opened my eyes, and played a simple, concert b flat. The glorious tuning note... I warmed up with some chromatic scales from the packet. Each note sang smoothly right after the other, and then tumbling them down in a flurry of 8th notes I added in. I looked up at a clock Macy had put on the wall. 8:10. 'That late already?' I sighed, laying down on my bed, trumpet still in hand. I blew into it softly, now sideways, thinking.

A question my old band director (who I always thought was half therapist) always asked, was "how do you feel about it?" I sighed inwardly, trying to pull all my emotions together in one thought...I had never been at a new school before - so of course I was going to be nervous. Though on the other hand, I wasn't a stranger to music - and a new band might be fun. On the other, other hand, I missed my old friends and city. I seriously doubt that making friends could be as easy as adults make it seem. Maybe it works that way for little kids, but for teenagers - that was a different story. So, I'm nervous, happy, and lonely at the same time. I shook my head again and yawned.

'Maybe a nap would help me feel better' I thought, pulling my trumpet closer, my eyelids fluttering. 'Maybe', I thought, and fell asleep with visions of the band room dancing around in my head.