AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello there my pretties. Okay so I know the summary is a little generic and.. well.. no one is probably gonna read this but I threw it out there anyway. I'm pretty sure I own everything in here.. I made everything up. It's loosely based on things I've seen or experienced, but they've mostly been exaggerated to make a slightly interesting novel. It seems slow right now... I guess I'll call this the first chapter. This is all I have and I'll write the next one but I'm honestly not sure if I'll do anything with it. This is the first story I've ever let anyone read. If an interest arises then I will continue to write it but if not then I feel I am wasting my time. I suppose that's it? Thanks for reading, if you do :) If you have any questions just ask. I won't bite.. too hard ;)
Chapter One: I have yet to think of a title.
The seventeen year old Junior didn't think her grin could get any wider at that moment. She almost felt as if she was in some sort of trance as she stared up at the single piece of paper pinned on the band room door. Jazz band results. And whose name was under the trumpet section? The one and only Lacey Montague. It felt as if this huge weight had been lifted from her small shoulders. It was only one of many as she approached her senior year.
This had to be a sign that this year was going to go wonderfully. Summer was just around the corner. The first marching band practice was tonight. Her senior year was going to go perfectly. Hopefully she went out with a bang.
Letting out a content sigh, Lacey swung the band room door open and strolled in. She was early, which she normally was. Something about band made her want to be sure she was never late, so she always gave herself enough time. This season would be especially important if she wanted to set a good example. It was her final season and she wanted to be captain of the Brookville Drumline. There was no way in hell she'd let Oliver win.
This was going to be more awkward than usual, though. Normally the drumline started practices a couple weeks earlier than full marching band rehearsals so the newcomers could pick an instrument and get settled. That didn't seem to be the case this year thanks to their new instructor, graduating senior Brent Chryst.
Lacey's troubled thoughts were instantly interrupted when she spotted her two friends seated next to each other, chatting it up. One wore a saxophone neck strap and the other had a flute in her lap. Lacey strolled over and took a seat next to the duo.
"I saw you made jazz band. Obviously. Mr. Hogendorf loves you. I don't know why you were worried you wouldn't make it. That's dumb," the flautist stated simply, brushing her straight blond hair behind her shoulder.
"Yeah.. thanks?" Lacey wasn't really sure of a response. This attitude was normal from her friend, though, so it didn't do much to harm her spirit, "Why are you so early, anyway? That's highly unusual."
"I wanted to get out of my house. My mom was being a bitch again. She doesn't like me doing anything," the girl shrugged her small shoulders at this, casting her cloudy green eyes across the band room. Lacey had to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Estella's mother was actually pretty kind for the most part, and the only reason she was saying her mom didn't want to do anything is because Stella herself didn't want to be involved in marching band. She was a senior, but this was her first year. Lacey had been trying to get her to join all through high school, and the only reason she had finally agreed is because she had absolutely no activities to put on a resume or application because she did nothing but go home and eat Doritos and play the Sims after school.
"Probably not as much of a bitch as my mom was today. She had to take the dogs to their training class so she had to drop me off early," the saxophonist, Manny, stated. She had shoulder length ginger hair and dark brown eyes.
After having a short chat about their day, Lacey glanced toward the top of the band room where the percussionists normally gathered and spotted some young unknowns. Feeling like this was the perfect opportunity to prove that she would make a great leader of the line this summer, Lacey excused herself and headed up the short, wide steps.
She introduced herself to the future members of the Brookville Trojan Drumline with a smile on her face and an optimistic tone. As the minutes ticked by, more students filed into the large room. It wasn't long before she had remembered the eleven names of the new percussionists. Yes, eleven. That was insane for this drumline. When she had first joined two years ago, only her and two others were new. Last year there was one. This year the majority of the line was graduating; over half of them were seniors. It was going to be a rebuilding process and Lacey had been prepared for that. She had feared they wouldn't have enough interested drummers, but they actually had more than enough. Auditions might be taken seriously this year, seeing as five or six were interested in snare. To have seven or eight snares would be impossible seeing as they only had five instruments to march.
Lacey already felt confident that she was proving to be a better leader than Oliver. He was down by the podium, flirting heavily with the assistant director who was ending her third year of college. Lacey couldn't help but roll her eyes.
Lacey directed the way outside toward the grassy area that they would use as their practice field after Mr. Hogendorf, the band director, finished his 'this is the greatest choice you'll ever make' speech. It was already time to learn their first commands. The thought of training these newcomers was beyond exciting for her. She had been thinking about this all school year, coming up with ideas for sectionals and strengthening her chops. It was almost pathetic, how much she had been looking forward to this. She never expected she'd want to be a leader, especially for the entire drumline. She was normally just a shy, quiet follower.
"Flutes, you'll be sticking with Brooke. Clarinets, you're to follow Kim." Mr. Hogendorf continued on like that, naming the sections' leaders and pointing them out even though they had already basically been over this in the band room.
"And percussion, Oliver will be showing you the ropes this evening."
Lacey's heart stopped, her expression blank. Could he possibly be serious? He couldn't do that, could he? That was dumb, why not just say both of their names, at least? Nothing was official or anything. Hell, they hadn't even had captain auditions! She was jolted from her thoughts as Oliver's arrogant voice pierced her eardrums.
"Alright, line up.. however you want. We don't really know what instrument you're playing so it doesn't really matter right now. I'm Oliver and I'll be your captain. That's Brent, our instructor," he motioned toward the dark haired boy standing off to the side, his bluish green eyes on them like a hawk, "and James." He pointed to the other boy, a graduating cymbal player who was here to 'help out', "They'll be watching you and helping you not suck."
Lacey swallowed what felt like a gigantic rock. What the hell was going on? Oliver's arrogant, cocky grin was not helping the situation. Why couldn't she just say something? She felt too ashamed.
"Everyone kneel except for leadership," boomed Mr. Hogendorf's voice on the megaphone. Lacey slowly sunk to the ground, feeling as if her entire senior year had just fallen apart.. Her bright blue eyes locked with Oliver's sea green one's, and he gave her a cheesy grin as if to mock her, but she knew he had no idea how bad she had wanted that position. No one did. In reply she gave him a cold, hard stare. She was too pissed to even pretend to be happy right now.
And so it went on like that. They learned Detail and Attention. All while watching Oliver and not her. She felt the pricking sensation in her eyes that signified tears, but she held them back angrily. She would not cry over something as stupid as this, and especially not in front of people. She could easily blame the biting wind for her currently wattery eyes. Crying would definitely be a bad example to these newcomers. Members of the drumline did not cry, no matter how much pain they were in.
The rest of the night she was in a particularly sour mood, though she tried to disguise it by putting forth her best effort. She did every command as snappy as possible and stayed completely still during attention. They never once got to play and Oliver acted like a cocky asshole, which wasn't unusual, strutting around without a care in the world. Lacey had the sudden desire to switch to tenor drums, but knew that would be even worse on her ruined back. Anyway, that would be a childish thing to do. Her home was with the snares and always had been since her summer before Sophomore year. She was attached to Jackson, her drum, too, so leaving him would be devastating.
As they returned to the band room, the percussionists branched out to their separate practice room and shut the door behind them. They went through a painfully long introduction and 'get to know you' and barely had enough time to sign up for their instrument of choice.
Lacey waited until the rest of the percussionists had left the room before she approached the sign up sheet. As she glanced down at the piece of notebook paper, her eyes widened. There were so many new people it was unbelievable. Especially snares. Three tenors, too. They would have to bring the sixth bass drum out of retirement from the looks of it, as well.
Lacey lifted the pencil and scribbled her name on the next available line in the snare drum column.
Why couldn't she just say something, maybe ask when auditions were or why she couldn't have at least been on the same level as Oliver today? She was just too embarrassed. Only her close friends knew of her desire to be drumline captain this year. People would probably laugh in her face, thinking she was not cutout for the job. She wasn't one of those common arrogant, cocky percussionists. Hell, she wasn't a percussionist at all. She was a flute transplant. She had betrayed her flutes twice. Once for drumline, and the second time for a trumpet. Maybe that was why. Maybe there was this unspoken rule that only percussionists could be made captain of the drumline. Or maybe it was because she was a girl.
"We gonna learn all the cadences this year, Brent?" the dark haired Junior asked suddenly. The only other person in the practice room was the instructor, rummaging through a portfolio of sheet music.
"We'll see. We've got a pretty huge line this year so we're gonna need extra practices."
Lacey had so much to say at that point, but she kept her mouth shut. She normally joked around with Brent and tried to make his life hard when he had been her section leader the last two years, just out of fun. He was used to her sarcastic and snide remarks, but she decided to keep them to herself this time.
If it had been up to her, drumline practices would have started a couple weeks ago. They would have also been an hour earlier than every marching band rehearsal. They would have already been able to play through a couple exercises and maybe have already been working on a parade tune or an easy cadence. That was not the case, though, because she was not the instructor.
That was depressing. She really wanted this year to go fabulously and she already had the feeling that this was a terrible start. She left the room without another word, making a decision at that moment that whatever it took her, she would not let Oliver Weston be captain of the Brookville Trojan Drumline this year. Or, if it came to it, she'd make his life as miserable as she possibly could.