"TWEET! TWEET-TWEET!" came the whistle. "HUT!" the band responded, as we all snapped to attention wherever we were standing. "If you're not there, you're late!" our field commander, Amy, shouted over the band field. "Now, put down your instruments; it's time for stretches!" Suddenly, there was tons of movement as my fellow bandies left Attention. Instruments were set on the ground, and the handful of people that were not in their pre-game block spots on time rushed slyly to their assigned spots, hoping no one noticed. Across the drop off and pick up lanes in front of our beloved high school, students stood waiting for their busses. These students were the ones looking back at the band as we went through our strange stretches (such as the Superman Stretch, Balance Exercise, Point and Flex, Alphabet, and so on and so forth). Our practice field stands on an "island" (for lack of a better word) in front of our school between the chaos of the drop off lanes and the chaos of wonderful Hard Road. Our practice field is also one of the least respected objects of our school. And that only shows the amount of respect our band gets. My band is my second family. During the band season (well, all year actually, but it's much more obvious during band season) I have 100 brothers and sisters. For some reason, I always feel safe when I'm with the Bandies. Whenever we're all on the field together and I'm surrounded by them, I feel secure. When we're all on the field together, we don't seem to care what the other students think of our traditions, attitudes, and actions. We're together on the field so much, that off the top of my head I can easily name the people standing around me. Behind me is Ashley, behind me at a diagonal is Missy (I'm her Freshman, twin, whatever you feel like calling us), next to me at my left is my ex boyfriend David (it's tons of fun drilling holes in the back of his head with my eyes during drill), directly in front of me stands one of my section leaders Jessica, next to Jessica to her left is another Jessica, then on the other side of me are some empty spots. "Okay, people, let's take it back and run through pre-game. We have a home game tomorrow, you know," Mr. Clark, one of our directors, announced, and he was answered by the entire band racing toward Hard Road.

"I'm in the ditch again!" someone cried. "Why is this ditch here anyway?" someone else shouted. My ankles started burning while I tried to stand up straight on the upward slope coming out of the ditch. Moans and groans could be heard as people tried not to fall all the way into the ditch. Welcome to my Bandie Family.