Untitled…story in progress…by SevenSparkles

            I walked into the band room on the first day of the new school year, greeted by the familiar faces of the now-seniors, juniors and sophomores.  I didn't know the freshmen.  At least, not all of them.  But it was easy to pick them out from among the masses.  Their uncertain, slightly nervous faces clashed dramatically with the relaxed, smiling faces of the upperclassmen.  None of them were really all that special.  Each one was just "a little freshie" to my biased senior mind.  It was the typical standpoint and belief of all of us in the graduating class of 2007.  Sad, isn't it?

            I got my flute out of its case and began to put it together.  This flute had been the brunt of many jokes ever since the debut of American Pie.  And being a guy didn't really help either.  Whenever someone asks me what instrument I play, I always have to brace myself for their reaction when I say "flute."  It's not like there aren't any male flutists out there, it's just that the flute is thought of as a "girls'" instrument.  And that's just not fair!  I could go on and on about my feelings on men and flutes, but then I wouldn't be doing what I'm here to do, now would I?

            I finished putting my flute together and got out my flip folder.  Our music for this fall's marching season was sitting on chairs in the front of the band room, sorted by section.  I was walking over to the flute chair when a clarinet girl caught my eye.  She was new – she was most likely a freshman.  She was kind of short, but height has never affected me negatively.  She had curly brown hair but bright blue eyes.  What eyes!  Though she only glanced at me once (and quickly), the sparkling sapphire of her eyes dared me to look again, to lose myself in pools of blue.  Why had she enchanted me so?  I don't know…

            But the spell was broken when Dr. Foer, our band director, told everyone to sit in their sections.  I made my way to the flute section, finding an empty spot between my two fellow guy flutes, Scott Johanson and Chris Carrington.  "Hey Scott, Chris…ready for another season of nothing but smelly old wool uniforms and purple plumes?" I asked.  "As ready as I'll ever be," responded Scott.  I took my seat, greeting my fellow seniors with the obligatory nod, and then Dr. Foer started in on the usual pre-marching talk.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Ever since I saw him picking up his flute music, I couldn't keep my eyes off him.  I watched him walk over to his seat and sit between his friends.  He brushed his hand through his luscious brown hair, letting it fall back just-so in front of his eyes.  Big brown eyes, like pools of chocolate.  I could lose myself in those eyes.

            I turned to my friend Nicole, who was a sophomore.  "Hey Nic, who's that guy?" I asked, pointing to chocolate eye boy.  "Who, him?" she asked, following my finger.  "That's Andrew Logan, he's a senior."  "Oh," I said, my hopes crashing down.  A senior?  A senior would never associate with a lowly freshman like me….

            I turned my gaze back to the front of the room, not really listening to what Dr. Foer was saying.  He had given the same speech at band camp, so I knew what to do.