Marching band is simultaneously the best and the worst thing to do in our school. Best because band is just amazing in general, the people are spectacular and the music makes it all worth it, worst because kids in marching band also tend to get shoved into lockers. Welcome to Bridgemont High, home of the Indians.
My name is Sara O'Riley. I'm a trumpet and a marcher, which immediately also makes me a geek, a nerd, a fag and just an overall loser to the rest of the student body. Screw them. I work hard at what I do and I do it freaking well.
The fact that I'm also an AP student and a peer tutor probably doesn't help my social standing all that much. Which yet again goes back to the idea of screw them. I do what I do, damn all the haters.
Football rules all here. To be a football player is to be a lord amongst lords, being fawned over cheerleaders and adored by the rest of the people, except us. This naturally picks the band out for all sorts of hell down the road.
Well, this is the story of my junior and senior years, in which all sorts of crazy things went down. Seriously. So, here goes nothing.
It all started, as it always does, with band camp. Unfortunately for us, this year band camp lined up with football camp, which caused all sorts of problems. I can remember all sorts of shouting matches between Mrs. Rhodes and Coach Jones.
Mrs Rhodes is our band director, tutor, friend, surrogate parent and coordinator. We all love her. The rest of the school hates her, mostly because she is literally the only teacher willing to cross Coach Jones by busting up his precious football players whenever she gets the chance. Thanks to Mrs. Rhodes's diligence, the band has our own little hallway where no one else goes.
Band Camp also was the first time I officially met him. Jacob Miller. The quarterback for our team. He was a junior, like me, but was a total dick. My memory of him was a sweaty football player running into me, causing me to dump my water all over the place, and then being yelled at by Coach Jones for not apologizing. So yeah, that was fun. Once I got back to the band, we all agreed he was a horrible person and not worth our trouble. Unfortunately for me, however, my encounters with Jacob had only just begun.
"I'm tutoring who?" I asked incredulously, staring at the secretary.
"Jacob Miller. He needs some...assistance in his schoolwork in order to meet the new standards for the State Football Program. It won't be that bad; Jacob's a nice boy," She smiled back at me. I bit back a few swear words, groaned and stormed off to my first class, not really believing this.
The thing with Jacob is that every person of the female sex was supposedly required to find him almost impossibly hot. He had fairly long, blonde hair, blue eyes and the tan-plus-muscles combo that all girls were meant to swoon over. This guy went through girls like us mortals did kleenex.
So yeah, I went to the library after school in a pissy mood. This was how I was going to spend the time between school and marching band. Tutoring a person whose guts I hated on principle. Yay me.
