A/N: This one took forever to write. Disclaimer: My stories are completely fictional. Take no offense.

If you read, please review.

Time Capsule

3rd POV

"Okay," Mr. Stuckey addressed the advanced band class. "Today, instead of practicing," The last part elicited a groan from the 'band geeks'. "We are going to do a little project. This year, the band program, including all bands and pageantry, are making a time capsule!" Mr. Stuckey finished, grinning.

There were mutual comments of "Whoa" "Cool" "That's so awesome" from the kids. They were obviously excited about their project.

Mr. Stuckey proceeded to tell the class, as he had to all the others, that each section would put together a box. In the section's box would be one item from each member.

Bryce's POV

This is going to be so fun. What will I put in the trumpet box? What describes me? Well, my trumpet does, but I'm not putting that in the box. Not even.

What's most important to me? My social life? What social life? I have like ten friends total. And they're girls. And then Tyra. I like Tyra. Janine gave me a wierd look right now because I giggled. I think, hmm, what should I put in? Keep thinking until you finally get it! Yes! It's perfect.

A copy of my repertoire.

Nick's POV

Interesting. A time capsule, eh? I was not informed. Why does Mr. Stuckey hate me so much? He won't even talk to me. Whatever. Anyway, what could I put in? Something that would help the future band. Something. I'm the drum major, maybe it could be related to that. Yeah, the future drum major.

So, the future drum major. What could that be? How could I help them. I can't really give them my experience, or my tips. But wait. What if I could? Like, what if I could tell them? Wait, I've got it! Great!

A letter, I'll write them a letter.

Amanda's POV

Oh great. Just perfect. A time capsule, exactly what I freaking needed. Something to describe me, huh? Well, I'm not unstable at all, so that should be easy. What do I do all the time? When I'm not doing band or B-O-B or leadership. Well easy, I'm trying to get my mom to eat, which she never does. Or my dad to stop drinking, which also never happens.

But other than that I'm, well I'm, umm, oh yeah! I'm talking with my friends. At least I have those, if nothing else. Or I'm leading my section. The flutes. I love them, they mean the world to me. That's why I did that painting of a flute. It was actually really good, the art teacher said that herself. Maybe that's what I'll put in. The painting of my flute, Harmony. Harmony does mean the whole world to me. It's perfect, definitely.

A painting of my flute, Harmony.

Emma's POV

What the heck? A time capsule, seriously? How much stupider can they get? So idiotic. Whatever, I guess I have to put something in. I don't know, what really describes me? Well, one word? Umm, sarcastic. So what does that represent? I like cats, oh! Yeah, something with that.

So cats. What could I get rid of and put in our box? Something I could give away, something I wouldn't miss. But something I made, so it could represent me. Oh, I don't know, maybe. Yeah, that's pretty good, I mean, I did think of it after all. That's what I'll put in.

The porcelain cat I painted.

Andrew's POV

This is so weird. A time capsule? There was that one at Tolenas, the one Mr. Harwood always talked about. But what exactly could I put in? What's most important to me? Hmm, band? drumline? school? No, not school. Definately not school.

So what then? I play percussion, maybe something realated to that. Like, maybe I could put in my poem about band. Nah, nah, that was stupid. Oh wait, I do have a lot of those lying around, huh? They do represent me pretty well. Yeah...

A pair of my old drumsticks.

3rd POV

Mr. Stuckey was standing at the front of the band room, a grin on his face. It was 3:15 and all the students were crammed into the space. A metal barrel had been prepared, packed and padded, thanks to the boosters, and everyone was preparing to place the items in.

There were mixed expressions of anxiousness and anticipation, as well as solemn glances at one another.

Saxophones were called first, and the others looked on solemnly as Tyra, the chosen representative, placed a blue cardboard box into the barrel. It was adorned with bits of paper, music notes and ribbons, representing what saxophones were.

Next was percussion, and Andrew stepped forward to do the deed. He carried a black box, that percussion, not ones for frilly decorations, had left plain. The dark-haired boy placed it next to the saxophone's box, two small islands in the otherwise barren space.

Flutes were called third, and Amanda produced a heavy and rather large yellow container from behind her chair. The flutes had decorated it with poems, words and notes, written on crumpled worksheets and celtic greens. It was difficult to see the box for all the coverings. She set it down near the others.

After I tearful pause, trumpets were chosen to be next. Bryce came up with a small silver case that contained their chosen items. It was also plain, but precise, not unlike the trumpets themselves. It was placed far from the other boxes.

The trombones, tuba, contra, horns and bass clarinets had collaborated to make a single box. It was Caroline who lugged the heavy leather briefcase filled to the brim with their mementos. Scraps of newspaper and cloth could be seen sticking out from the top. The girl placed it between the trumpets and the percussion.

It was clarinets next, and a small black folder was all they had produced. They had been convinced to write letters and stories from the past year, describing what it was like to be in band. Daniel carried it up and slid it between the other containers.

It was pageantry that was called last, and ten of the girls came forward to put in about five pink and purple boxes. They had to work to fit everything in the cold metal barrel, but they figured it out.

The program watched with mixed emotions as the barrel was lowered into the ground. Some were bored, like Emma and Xavier. Some were sad, like Janine and Jessica. But most were happy, knowing that their year in band would be preserved forever.