I am a Pitzter. What is that, you ask? Why, it means I'm in Pit of course! Or rather, ahem, Front Ensemble. Really, what's the difference? You're still unliked by the marchers that make the Marching Band a marching band. We march! In parades...
Anyways, back to the point. My name is Sara McKillen, I'm seventeen, a Junior, and a third year pit member. My rookie year, I was on auxiliary Percussion... you know, suspended cymbal, that sorta thing? My second year... Bells. Ugh. This year... Marimba! That's right, I got it. And the high end, too. Woot!
But, sixteenth notes with four mallets at 160? Lord have Mercy! I'm being out played by the Rookie on my left, here! My hands... Ow.
So, you about me and you know I'm not mentioning band camp... Let's get to business.
First day of school. Fourth period,
After hectically trying to situate mine and other cymbals, I manage to sit on my gluteus maximus in the brand new musician's chairs our band director got... Man, are they uncomfortable. But at least I'm sitting right?
After a few moments of peace, and I do mean a few, my section leader, Micheal, says my name. I mentally cursed.
"Yes?"
"Where is your music, Sara?" He raised an eyebrow.
Curse you, Sara! You left it at your house on your freakin' bed! I gulped. "Not here."
"And why?"
"I forgot to put it in my car after spending two hours practicing."
Like he'll believe that! He lives in the apartment below your's!
"Yeah, I had sense enough to get it for you." Micheal handed me my dirty orange Trapper Keeper that I got for a dollar at a yard sell.
That's when Mr. Rightson stood up and held up a folder of music. "Guess what Pit? You're getting a Piano player. Kevin!"
Everyone in that room turned to look and the tall blond that walked through the door.
Oh My God! The exchange student?