Found Heritage

Chapter 1

I sat in the sitting area of the office, un sure why I had been called out of my honor drama class. I glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw that second hour ended fifteen minutes ago. Great, I thought. I'm missing ROTC. With a sigh, I leaned back in my seat, growing bored. Then one of the assistant principals came out.

"Morgan," he called. "This way please."

Standing, I grabbed my backpack and followed him to his office where I took one of the two seats while he took his behind his desk. I waited for him to speak, but when he didn't I moved to stand, reaching for my backpack as I did. "Sir, if there's no reason for me being here," I said.

"Sit down, Miss Donna," He said. I did, not liking what he may have to say. "I'm sorry it took so long. We had some trouble deciding who should tell you."

"Tell me what, Mr. Turner?"

"This morning, your mother was in a car crash. She was taken to the hospital, but died in surgery."

I felt my stomach plummet and eyes tear up, and who knew how many pieces my heart broke in. I sniffed, wipping away the tears and accepted the Kleenex to blow my nose then accepted another.

"Do you have any relatives that can come and help?" Mr. Turner asked.

I sniffled. "I've got an aunt I can call."

"You may call her and go home."

I shook my head. "No, sir. I've got class."

I watched as Mr. Turner pulled out a pad of passes and wrote one out for me. "Let me know if you need a grief consular, Miss Donna."

"I will." I accepted the pass and left the office in a bit of a daze. The only way I even reached the Army ROTC room at all was due to the fact that I had the way memorized. Once in the room, I handed the hall pass to the junior instructor and took my seat at the cadet commander desk; seeing how I was the unit leader. I listened to the different conversations of my classmates when they were suppose to be working. Not wholly wishing to talk, I pulled out my math things and settled into working on my math homework that was due later in the day.

"Morgan," the Staff Sargent said, coming up to her. "Is everything alright?"

I kept my eyes on my homework, but shook my head, not daring to look up in fear that I would start crying.

"Come in my office," he instructed.

I stood, leaving my things, and followed the Sargent. He closed the door and motioned for me to sit. "Now, what's wrong?"

I sat. "My mom was killed from a car crash this morning. Mr. Turner half suggested that I go home. I said no."

"You're welcome to stay here."

"Thank you, sir."

I sat in the car, waiting for the crowd of student drivers to leave. I don't know how i managed to get t hrough the day. When the crowd finally died down, I started the car and drove out of the parking lot, merging into traffic.

At home, I left the front door open while I pulled my cell out and called my aunt.

"Hello?" came the questioning answer.

"Aunt Kay?" I was sure that my voice betrayed me. "Can you come by?"

"What for, Morgan? I'm busy right now."

"Mom's dead, Aunt Kay," I nearly shouted."Now, I'll be fine for a month, maybe a little longer. I need help with the funeral for mom."

"I'll be there in a little bit, Morgan." With that, Aunt Kay ended the call.

I closed my cell and looked around the living room. The house felt empty with out mom present. I made my my way to me room, which had Star Wars and Lord of the Rings posters on the walls.

I kept my gaze lowered while Aunt Kay looked around the house. "You didn't clean?" she asked. "When you knew I was coming."

"I was doing my homework, Aunt Kay." I raised my gaze. "School's a little more important than having the house clean when you're coming."

Aunt Kay wave hand that told me that she really didn't care. "When do you get out?"

"'Bout two weeks."

Aunt Kay turned to face me. "I want you to pack up all of your belongings in the course of the next month," she instructed. "At which point you'll come and live with me."

"Aunt Kay, I can't. I have band practices all summer. Not to mention band camp," I aruged. "You live an hour away."

"I'll speak to the principal of the high school in my town," Aunt Kay said. "You're in no condition to live alone right now."

"I'll have to until school gets out. Unless you stay here, which I doubt."

I felt a stinging sensation on my cheek when Aunt Kay slapped me. I raised a hand to the cheek, feeling tears welling up.

Aunt Kay stepped in close. "Don't you dare insult me like that again," she said. "Now, start packing. I'll handle the funeral details.

I felt a tear run down a cheek and turned away from my aunt. All the emotional baggage from the day came crashing down before I even reached my room and closed the door. I collasped onto my bed, taking a stuffed animal into my arms and sobbed into my pillows. When I finally calmed down, I laid on my bed and allowed my hormones to return to normal. I shifted and pulled my cell from my pokcet to check tht time to realize that band practice began in a half hour. In a rush, I got off the bed, and went to the dining room table where my drunsticks were still in my backpack before rushed to the car with my keys and sticks.

"And where do you think you're going?" Aunt Kay demanded. She had been outside talking with one of my neighbors and had now turned her attention to me.

"Band practice. I'll be back in a few hours." I started the care and raced back onto the street before racing off.

I walked onto the football field, sticks in hand, and headed for the trailer that contained all the drum line equipment. I grabbed my carrier and snare drum. I emerged and joined the rest of the twenty member line. With the entire band count nearly two hundred minus the color guard, I had the job of being the section leader of the drum line. The first female in years. And being the only female on the line, I had worked hard since the day I was given the position at the end of my freshmen year.

"Morgan," Trevor said, bringing me out of my daydream.

"Mm? What, Trev?" I looked at my best friend of nearly eight years.

"You okay? You seem a bit out there."

"Yeah. Why?"

He shrugged.

"Gather 'round people," Mr. Wolfe - the director - called out. It took a few minutes for all of us to do so. Wolfe stood on the director's ladder. "Next year's freshmen should be here soon. I want everyone to be on their best behavior. That includes you, drum line." I heard snickers from my line, and I couldn't help but join in. "Morgan, may I have a word with you please?"

The band separated to return to their previous practice while the eighth graders arrived and were separated. I managed to work my way up to Wolfe.

"You don't have to be here," he told me once he was on solid ground. "If you want to go home..."

"No. I've gotta keep my mind busy."

He nodded. "Very well."

I headed over to my line at the north end of the field. There the line had been attempting to teach the eighth graders the simple eight by four count where there were eight steps for every five yards. I set my drum down and watched the eighth graders make attempt after sad attempt.

"Okay, stop," I ordered. "First, always ALWAYS step off with your left. If not, you're fucked up for the entire piece. Now, back on the line." I waited then began hitting my sticks together. "Line, ready, march."

The ten or so eighth graders stepped off with their left foots and I kept a measured beat. Finally, I called a halt. At this point, Wolfe ordered all the eighth graders to tbe bottom of the field and the band to the top over the megaphone. The band and color guard organized ourselves and came to attention without one of the two drum majors ordering it. I clicked off and the line began the school candance. We marched out onto the field, stopping one when we reached our spots.

"Drum majors," Wolfe said through the megaphone. "You have the field."

The two drum majors gave their salute then went to the two ladders, gave the count, and we began performing the half-time show from the previous football season.

"Aunt Kay!" I yelled, walking into my room to find her going through my things. "What are you doing with my stuff?"

"Pricing them for sale."

I picked up the closest thing and began peeling off the sticker. "You just can't come in here and price my stuff. That's stealing. Now, get out."

Aunt Kay looked up from the price sticker and stared at me. "Don't you take that tone of voice with me, Morgan."

"Aunt Kay, I called you for help. Not to come and set things up for a garage sale.

Aunt Kay stood from the chair and looked at me.