Hey, this is my first story on here! I hope you guys will like it. I'm not the best with updates, but I will try to update at least once a week. Tell me what you think. Oh, and this is all completly fictional. Some may have been based off of true life, though.! 3
The bell had just rang, signaling eighth period was over. At last, the school day was over. It was a Friday in the middle of late September. I was walking down the hall to stop for a quick minute to wait for my friend, Samantha, a clarinetist in our high school's marching band. We would quickly stop at her locker and then slowly make our way down to the band room. She always hated walking by herself, and I have all my books in a band locker down there. I was waiting at Samantha's locker, talking to my friend, Amanda, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I spun around on my heels and nearly fell. I would have, but some unknown figure caught me. I looked up to see who this person was.
"Gosh, Raine. Who would have thought that a good saxophonist like you would be so uncoordinated?" I sighed and laughed slightly.
"Well, I'm so sorry! Someone hasn't taught me how to march yet!" I replied playfully. It was one of my saxophone teachers, Peter. He was extremely tall, really pale, and had sort of a deep voice. He was also one of the senior drum majors in marching band and amazing at saxophone. He played tenor, and was teaching me alto. I wasn't in marching band, yet. I had absolutely no experience in band whatsoever, until my other saxophone teacher, Ramona, had taught me. Well, don't get me wrong, of course I'd go around playing all my friend's instruments, I just never really became interested until now.
"My student, my friend, my underclassman, I will teach you how to march soon. Just once marching season's over. You know how busy I get. Cross country, band, marching band, senior project," He was a busy kid, what can I say? I'd barely had any lessons over the course that I had started playing saxophone. They were all from my friend, Ramona. "I didn't come here to chit-chat about marching, now. I came do ask you, are you coming to the game tonight?"
Ahh. The infamous question I get from almost everyone in the band. I was known as one of the band groupies. Would you like a definition? A band groupie is someone who wishes they were in band, but lacks the talent of being able to play a band instrument. There were only two band groupies in the entire school, myself and my friend Andrea. Our band director knows how passionate we are about coming to the games, competitions, and parades, so he will make up a permission slip for our parents to sign for every event. If they sign it, he would let us go on the band busses. Our band director is god.
"PETER! WHY WOULDN'T I?!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. The bustle and loudness in the hallway had stopped for a minute and stared at me. I was particularly quiet. Ever. Peter just laughed and waved good-bye, and I was beckoning Samantha to her locker so we could finally go to the band room.
While walking into the band room's double doors, I almost ran into my Orchestra teacher. Yes, I was in Dorchestra. I didn't dislike it, but I didn't love it. I've played the violin since third grade, but in fifth grade, I stopped playing in school, and switched over to the cello. I can read countless clefts. Not really, I can only read treble, alto, bass, and tenor clef, but that is more than most. If you're lucky, you'll come across a piano player who knows bass and treble. "Sorry, Mr. Jacken!" I called out behind myself. I had to get my stuff and get ready to leave. I pushed my Geometry stuff into the locker that was way too tall for me. It was the only locker open by the time I had gotten my saxophone. Since I played cello in Orchestra, I didn't have a locker. I pulled the big, hard case out, and my biology stuff came falling on the ground. Everyone snickered, because I had gotten hit so many times, I just learned to dodge it. I picked it up and screamed enthusiastically, "LET'S GO!"
We all got ready and went down the big steps from the music wing to the school bus parking lot. There had to have been at least twenty-five in our group, all in marching band, but me. We were all cheering, excited for what was to come. The football game tonight, and apparently they had an amazing half-time show prepared.