I stood in front of the dorms, waiting for the buses to make their first appearances with the newest anxious freshman and familiar unenthusiastic upperclassmen. My mind started to wander as my eyes roamed the terrain. I could remember every year of camp that I had attended previously, though nothing really seemed to matter.
Sure, this was a place for music. We got our charts down, we memorized our music, or, in my case, got used to keeping my arms up and changing time signatures, and returned to Forest Hills as better musicians. However, there was another aspect to this too – fun. But, looking around, I could see no "fun" memories, only the ghost site of an endless rehearsal or wicked sunburn. That was going to change this year.
Ever since I had been a drum major my sophomore year, I had been a good role model. I devoted my time to knowing my music faster than the other, older drum majors, had always kept good time during the shows, never talked or moved at attention, and now was the example for the two juniors that we had as drum majors now. This meant that there was no time for screwing around, and all work and no play had come easily to me. I was a contented band geek with no other love than music, and music was what I lived for. This still being true, I was starting to wonder about how different it would be if I didn't have these responsibilities. Something about arriving her for my last year made me wonder, and I was feeling discontent. Still wary of the consequences, I realized that this year I had to make fun happen.
I could hear the rubber squeaking on the pavement as the first bust skidded to a stop from a crazily high speed, and it pulled me away from my thoughts. The second bus closely followed at a slightly safer speed and, immediately, I became Drum Major Katherine.
With an incredibly slow speed, each student climbed of the bus, weighed down by their luggage. The lag was terrible, and I was getting uneasy. All I had to do was show them where their dorms were, and then they would, once their things were put away, be herded off to listen to a session on the camp's rules. I stared impatiently as a blonde boy took his time as the last one to board off the second bus. Once he was finally out, the drivers sped off and I smiled slightly to myself, knowing that all of these kids were now stranded here.
Once I could feel Tammy and Alexa, our two junior drum majors, at either side of me, I started my instruction. I simply stated that boys were to stay at the building on my right, and that girls were on the left. Within seconds, about one hundred teenagers were chattering and flooding around me. I waited until I heard the last of them shuffle in and Tammy and Alexa to leave before I wiped my hair out of my face and sighed.
I could have skipped the intro meeting if I wanted, even though it was mandatory. The directors always assumed that I knew everything and that I was off doing something productive. I had never taken advantage of this, but I still found it odd. I realized that Ms. Trepe must have seen that I had no fun and no life (putting a euphemism on it, we could call it "devotion"), and Mr. Auer just complacently agreed with her. It almost bothered me that The New Guy, Mr. I-Have-Nothing-to-do-but-Join-Winter-Guard-or-Drum-Core-or-March-Trombone-and-then-Brag-About-it-Even-Though-no-One-Cares thought that I had no life. Sitting on a worn wood bench waiting for the camp director to start his speel about rules, I considered this.
When everyone was there and all the freshman were listening intently and all the upperclassmen had nearly dozed off, I looked around, trying to familiarize myself with the names on the attendance sheet and the faces of the band kids.
Jean Bennett was one of the first freshman I saw. She had light, nearly colorless brown hair and eyes that seemed to be somewhere else, even more so now. I had heard that she was a very talented clarinet, but I wondered if she would be able to pay attention on the field.
Then I looked over the names of Alica Conner, Ben Grey, Amanda Nickleson, Josh Ford, and Jennifer Williams. I met each one's faces respective to their names' places on the roster and assessed what kind of a marcher each one would be. I would have looked over more, but my eyes went to the list of the tenor saxophones and looked up, to find their newest freshman, Jake Cullen.
Jake Cullen had been the blonde from earlier. He didn't exactly make a good first impression on me, considering that he wasted my time, but now ... Now he was sitting, calmly up in the in the nearest tree, without anyone else even noticing! I was so flustered that, if it would have been acceptable to yell at him right now, I wouldn't even have been able to talk. I blinked for a few moments until I realized that now he was looking at me. I glared at him for a moment before a careless smile slipped across his expression. I could feel my mouth drop open and he laughed silently. I quickly tore my face away and started to plot all sorts of punishments.
My eyes stared at the camp director, my brain trying to be distracted. But, despite my attempts to find a distraction, threats filled my head. Boy, that kid was gonna get it.
It was all over, and all the kids were clearing out, so I had to push against them to get to the tree. However, I didn't have to do this for long, because the boy jumped to the ground, smoothly landing, and walked right up to me. I thought he was mad, walking to his death like this, but I mentally commended him for not running off. When he was in earshot of me, the group had shuffled off to their dorms, and I opened my mouth to speak.
"What do you think you were--" I turned around stunned. The boy had walked right past me. "Get back here right now! Turn around right now, or I'll ... I'll," I was having a brain jam and needed a second. I felt like an idiot – I was usually really good with this and had a little more control over myself, but this kid just made me so angry.
He walked back over to me. Standing, what I thought, was just a little too close to me, he looked up and said quietly, "Or you'll do what?" The words had a certain sting to them, but he smiled after saying them, and I was perplexed by this paradox.
He obviously saw this because his green eyes seemed humored before he turned his back to me once again to leave. I was utterly frustrated with myself and the boy, but quickly reminded myself that I needed to get on the field. My dark brown hair was already starting to mat itself to my head, and I knew it was going to be a long day.