Drum Major Status

Chapter 1: A Raisin a Day

Drum Major Christian

I stared out onto the open field, scanning my band. Our season was great and our band was unstoppable. We received first at all our competitions including sweepstakes. I moved my head left to right slowly, eyeing the pit percussion, to the winds, to the battery line. "Is your band ready?" the announcer firmly said into the microphone. I let one foot behind my heel and maneuvered into a one-eighty face. My right arm forcefully punched through the air in front of me and pulled back into a salute. "You may now take the field in championships competition."

We scored first with a ninety-three point five. I gained the field drum major of the year title. And we went home with sweepstakes.

Drum Major Jessica

"Band atten-hut!" I ordered.

The open road ahead was apparent and my forty-person band, I felt, were nervous to have actually gone this far along in parade competition. Out of my attention, I threw my mace into a toss, spinning it around and about me. The palm spin above my head was always a crowd pleaser and a judge pleaser. After my routine, I pulled the mace into a pike and blew my count off whistle.

We scored third in our division, but I received the parade drum major of the year title. We were a small band, but that didn't stop us from dreaming and achieving great things. Spring season was a legend. But tables were about to turn when I returned home that day.

"We're moving?" I yelled at my parents. All they did was nod. The next few weeks I spent packing and mourning over leaving my band. Meanwhile, I was researching everything I could find out about the school's band that I was moving to. They were big – huge almost. First place streak all this. I was almost intimidated.

I began clicking different links on their website. Pictures and music samples were everywhere. Their uniforms were pretty slick. Black bibbers were under a green uniform jacket. The sleeves were pitch-black and come down to white gauntlets with a single green stripe. The right shoulder had a single cape hanging. Black on the outside and white was on the inside. This band didn't use shakos. They used helmets that looked like Phantom Regiment's own. White helmet – with a black plume. They were beautiful.

Their sound clips were amazing too. They sounded full. My band was never full. We didn't have any mellophones in my band. They did. We marched old, beat-up sousaphones. They marched contras. And finally, they competed in street AND field competitions. My band never did field. We were too small.

I clicked through more pictures. Then I found exactly what I was looking for – the drum major picture. The first picture had him saluting. His uniform was more awesome looking than the entire band. He had white trousers and white sleeves. His cape wasn't a one-shoulder, but looked almost like batman's cape – white on the outside and white on the inside. The next picture, he was conducting. This brown-haired boy looked like he knew what he was doing. I could see it in his facial expression. But he looked cocky. His eyes showed it. I hate cocky people.

I e-mailed their band director.

Mr. Trust,

I am the drum major of Riverview High School. I have recently learned that I will be moving to Arcana this summer. I'm very much interested in joining your marching band this upcoming season. I have a few questions first. Does marching band count as PE credit? How often are rehearsals? And finally, I am able to audition for a captain or leadership position in your band?

Thanks for taking the time to read this.

-Jessica Welling

When the Uhaul truck came, we spent countless hours loading it up. And then we were off – headed 5 hours south. It was tough saying goodbye to my nor-cal buddies. I cried. In the north, people still had respect for each other. We would say hello when we pass someone on the street. We encouraged others first, rather than us first. We weren't selfish. In South California, people on the freeway were daredevils. They would cut you off, honk their horn, and flip you off for no reason. We almost got into a car accident three times.

My little brother was playing with his Nintendo DS throughout the entire ride. He showed no interest in life. He spent his time in front of a computer, television, or the DS or PSP screen. He needed sun. Badly.

A few hours later, we were in Arcana. The place was busy. Intersections would be filled with cars passing. There were barely any small town businesses. The houses looked as if there were no backyards. We passed by a mall. I saw teenage girls dressed in barely anything - a thin top, high heels, and skirts. The shorter the skirt, the better – I guess. One other thing I noticed was that they were all skinny. They all looked anorexic to me! I was starting to feel a little insecure about myself.

I mean, I wasn't fat, but I wasn't skinny either. In my world, being well fed is a good thing. In this world, eating a raisin a day is routine.

The truck decelerated and turned into a house. "We're here!" my mother yelled with an excited smile. My mother was known as Ms. Cheery. She basically danced to the front door of our new house. My father on the other hand was a quiet man. Barely spoke, but that was his personality.

The house was big. It was bigger than the one up north. Snow white walls with a dull red-orange roof covered it. There were a few feet of grass, but that was it. Another thing I noticed about this place is the lack of the color green. There were barely any trees in this place.

Inside the house was another world. I felt like I was stuck in a Clueless movie. Everything was grand and elegant. It seems Arcana's theme color is white. The kitchen counter tops were white. The stairs leading to the second floor was white. Even the carpet was white. In the north, white carpets were definite no-no's. It could easily get stained.

My room was as big as the master bedroom back in Riverview. It also included a balcony. The closet was huge, too. But I didn't have that many clothes to fit in there. There was even a closet wall dedicated to only shoes. I had three pairs of shoes – two Converse pairs, and one Nikes for marching season. I owned no heels. In fact, I owned no dresses. All I had were plain tees, band shirts, long shorts, and baggy jeans.

Being comfortable is first priority.

I already knew that I wasn't going to fit in very easily when school starts. But I took comfort in the fact that the band is always welcoming. Or so I thought.

Drum Major Christian

Over the summer, I got an e-mail from Mr. Trust that we were going to get a new band kid this year. She was a senior and wanted some leadership position. I figured she was some flute playing chick who'd want to be captain of the complaining, preppy flute section. Flutes sucked anyway. If I was lucky, she'd be a little pretty. But it is rare to find a hot bandie. That is why the guard captain was invented. She would be something to look at when everything else is too damn ugly.

I emailed my band director back having him hear what he wants to hear. You know, just a bunch of bullshit. The captain and drum major tryouts were coming up and I knew no one dared go against me. The Arcana Eagles Marching Band, the Emerald Regiment is mine.

Before I became drum major, I was a trumpet player – a pretty damn good one at that too. For indoor drumline, I auditioned for a bass drum, but was placed as a snare. My band had a reputation – a good one. We were the best in our region and in our circuit. We were even invited to play for the governor once – or should I say, the Governator.

Our wind ensemble did pretty well during concert season. Our orchestra was bomb. They placed first all season. But together, we made the marching band. Most of the orchestra kids were in the pit section doing mallets. But our show this year required a string quintet in the pit. So, most of them auditioned. Only five made it, but the rest did mallets anyways. So we were nearing twenty in the front ensemble.

Woodwinds, the instruments that didn't matter, filled about thirty marching spots. All they did was hit my band members' heads with their flutes as they pass by. Clarinets would accidently stroke my members' asses, too. The saxophones would hit their own faces with their mouthpieces. They were all retards.

The drumline was good, I guess. There wasn't anything special about them, but to outsiders, they fawned over them. Stupid movie of Drumline got these chicks falling for the stupidest members of the band.

The brass section was my specialty. My band was known for their piercing licks and in-your-face music. I made them how they are. Especially my all-guy trumpet section, I made them all so they could reach the high C and some could go even higher. I loved screamers.

And the guard? Yeah, I don't know shit about guard.