Disclaimer (do I need one?): Just in case you're wondering, I have no possessions in the world but a bent nickel and a gum wrapper (read: I do not own anything in this story but the story itself) and I'm not trying to discourage people from joining Marching Band, Color Guard, or JROTC. This is just for fun. Get a life.

Author's note: My first story ever! I'm kinda nervous about it... ^.^ Anyone who reads this and gets offended, please don't. I have lots of friends in JROTC and no, I'm not trying to put it down. It was just the first group for the band to go against that made sense. ^.~ ***Please R&R*** and if I see that people like it, I'll upload the second chapter. And please, if you can't say anything nice, send it in an e-mail (preferably with a death threat). ^.~ This is for all my buddies on guard and in band, who remember all the great (*cough, cough*) times we've had!

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It was a rainy day in early September.

The school was eerily empty, save for a few cars parked outside. A distant echo of drumming feet could be heard from the gym; the JROTC students were performing drill. A harsh command accentuated their steady tattoo. Much softer, a murmur of voices could be heard from the cafeteria. A small fire was going on the floor, based mostly of notebook paper and mystery meat. (The mystery meat was close enough to wood to burn well and surprisingly long, although the fire smelled suspicious.)

Finally the silence was broken my tentative question. "Where IS everyone? It seems really weird to me that only the JROTC students and the band should show up. It's not raining _that_ hard." I sighed and pulled my jacket closer around me.

"You color guard wuss," Tasha scoffed, making a face at me. She grinned right afterward to take the sting from her words.

"Band geek," I replied. We were quiet for a moment, listening to the endless marching that came from the gym. "Are they EVER going to stop?" I asked my friends.

"Not likely," Jennifer replied, twirling one of her glass mallets meant for the bells–she still played her instrument occasionally, even though she was on the color guard now. "Their idea of a good time is marching and polishing their uniform button thingies. They must be brainwashed or something–what else could possess them to march CONSTANTLY?"

"And wear those ugly outfits,"Adrienne added, grimacing and pointing to her uniform that she'd put on in preparation for the pep rally. "Ours might be uncomfortable, but at least it isn't UGLY."

"And those hideous hats! I mean, they look like what we made out of newspaper in 2nd grade!"

"And what's with all those ugly, complicated ribbons? I don't know how they remember them all--'This one is for doing a correct left face, *this* one is for doing a correct right face..."

We all laughed, enjoying our little joke. Our laughter was cut short when we heard a soft, strange sound. "What is it?" Josh asked, confused. He suddenly noticed a dark spot where a ceiling tile should've been. "Look! On the ceiling, over there!" As we collectively turned and stared at the hole, a rope dropped out of it, followed by five JROTC students in camoflauge. They still had on those funny-shaped hats and had put black stripes under each eye, evidently their idea of war paint. "You guys really need a life," Josh said pointedly.

"Isn't that the rope we have to climb for gym?" Tera whispered to Jennifer.

"You were making fun of JROTC!" the leader snapped. Her hair was tucked back in a beret, and her eyes were narrowed to slits, but that didn't keep me from recognizing her.

"Hi, Trina," I said. "We were just joking. Come on, lighten up."

"Well, your jokes weren't *funny*," she said angrily. "JROTC isn't stupid! It's–"

"It's more like retarded," I agreed. Everyone in band and color guard started laughing. Trina clenched her fists and gave me a dirty look. "Oh, come OFF it already! For heaven's sake, Trina. You make fun of band all the time and we never get all freaked-out like you do. Besides..." I couldn't resist saying something else awful. "At least in band you have to have _some_ rudimentary intelligence."

"Is that SO?" Trina was really angry now; her whole face was a strange reddish color. "Well, band members can't do things like read maps, march in formation, OR have a military-style manhunt!"

"We march," Jennifer said with disdain. "And we can read maps, AND we could beat you guys in a manhunt anyday! Let's do it now, in fact, while we wait to go home!"



"Band against ROTC!" someone exclaimed from the group of camo-clad students. "I like it!"

Trina's head snapped around, and she fixed the outspoken freshman with a steely glare. "You're out of order, soldier," she said in a low monotone. We watched as the freshman peeled off and began doing pushups.

"What's that all about?" Adrienne murmured, rolling her eyes. "Just for talking? And they say they're not obsessed." A few people snickered.

Trina looked back at me. "And what'll be our prize when we beat you?"

"If, by some demonic miracle, you guys beat us, you can get..." I glanced around. Tiffney's trumpet wouldn't be a good prize, not for them, because they couldn't see the beauty in the silver, polished, two-year old instrument with a brand new mouthpiece. "Well, what do you want?"

Trina smirked. "I want every one of you to quit band. And I want you to tell everyone you meet that band is gay. And I want you to join ROTC and sign my recruiting paper!"

Tera murmured in my ear, "This is a bad idea." But it had to be done...and besides, we were in the school, not a jungle. Those soldiers-in-training didn't stand a chance.

"Done," I said after glancing over my shoulder. "And once we've ground your little camo butts into the mud, we want you to quit ROTC and join band. And tell everyone you meet that ROTC is gay. And...we want you to each EAT a full tray of school lunch every day! Even on mystery meat day!"

Trina didn't seem worried. "Fine," she agreed. "The manhunt starts in half an hour. Be ready." We watched as they climbed up the rope and disappeared into the ceiling, pushing the tile back into place behind them.

Jennifer shook her head. "They could've used a door."

Twenty minutes later, the band members and color guard decided to make a list of their resources. Tasha, Jennifer and I had mostly taken charge, and the others were sitting around exchanging several battle plans. Most of them involved green jello in some form.