I'm bored. No clue where this one is going to go. Might be a one-shot haha. Soaring Hills is based off of my school.


Crap. Why now? This better not be what I think it is.

I couldn't stand listening to what my mother had to say, even though she had yet to start speaking. It was the last thing I wanted to hear, the last thing I needed this summer. I had worked so hard to get where I was in the rough hierarchy of high school. Eleven years. Eleven years to scale my way up from lowest, loneliest child to an occasionally socially awkward but confident teenager who actually belonged in a group of other similar goofballs.

Those were my friends. The goofballs who knew few jokes that could be deemed appropriate, the crazy 'beings' that could make anything perverted. The teenagers with the confidence of well-tuned adults. The teenagers who everyday defied the common stereotypes given to students our age, who acted with common sense and intelligence opposed to idiocy and violence.

The marching band at my school was never the top band in the state, but we weren't the worst, and we were a family. A wonderful, tight-knit family. I knew my bandmates better sometimes then my little middle school sister Elizabeth. Band was my home. Specifically, the Riverview High School band was my home.

Yet as I stood before my mother with Elli by my side, I could feel my ties slipping away. I longed to reach for them, reach for the strings still connecting me to my musical family.

I had seen this coming from the start. The moment we entered this house, I knew this was coming. It had happened before, although this house had lasted longer then all the others. In middle school alone, I had been transferred to four different schools. In elementary school, countless. My mother seemed to enjoy the life of a nomad, without realizing how hard it was on both Elli and I. This time, I knew it would be harder. I had become closer to the Riverview students then any other group before. We had been living here for a miraculous two years. A record for us.

"Where are we going this time?" Elli finally asked. Mother sighed.

"Tucson, Arizona. I found a job at an elementary school working with special needs kids." Mother replied. I tried to find this new town on my mental map of the United states. I knew Arizona well; my aunt lived there before joining us in New Jersey, and sometimes between moves Elli and I would spend weeks over there. It was hot and dry; a wasteland. Of course, I knew it wasn't all like that, for one of those trips to Phoenix we had taken a short mini-vacation to the Grand Canyon. However, Tucson didn't sound like one of those upper Arizona cities with decent weather and vegetation that didn't try to kill you, more like phoenix, where everything was deadly, even the flowers.

"That's too far., mom. It's my junior year. I don't want to switch schools."

"You won't be a junior until school starts. Its only June. You have plenty of time to make friends."

"I have friends here."

"Emalyn, don't argue. I can't find work here. Henderson will not be returning its program next year, so I have to find new work. Nobody else is hiring on the east coast."

"Will we be going to big schools?" Elli asked. She didn't meet my mother's eye. She felt the same way as I did about the whole thing.

"Yes. Berkin Middle School is one of the smaller middle schools in town. And Emi, you will be going to Soaring hills High School, also a smaller school."

Smaller school meant smaller band. Smaller band meant bad band. At least, that was the case around here. Bigger bands always scored higher. Riverview's 150 strong band always won awards at competition.

"Is their band competitive?" I asked.

"I don't know Emi. You know I'm not a band person."

'Not a band person' meaning she rarely showed up to my performances. Once, in middle school band, I was forgotten until nearly midnight after a band concert because she fell asleep at home. Whenever I got a solo, she would show up late or not at all, always missing it. I was a proud clarinet player. At first, it hurt, but I had gotten used to it. It had made me stronger in fact. I was a completely different person then I was in middle school, or even freshman year.

~1 Month later~

"Emi! Help me lift this please!" I heard Elli call from outside. Her voice echoed on the empty house. I gingerly set down the box I had just brought inside on another and made my way outside. Elli was struggling to lift a larger box. I moved to help her. Together, we managed to remove it from the pile.

That's when I saw him. He stood on the sidewalk, half hidden by a weird, flowery desert hedge. His eyes met mine, and I nearly dropped the box I and Elli were holding. She shot me an angry warning glare, but I barely noticed. He smiled at me, a sweet smile that sent shivers down my spine. I suddenly felt aware of my appearance; my mangled ponytail, my lazy outfit of shorts and a tank top, the sweat pouring from everywhere on my body.

I tore my eyes away long enough to help Elli inside and set the box down. Purposely, I headed back out to pretend to get another box. He was still there. He smiled as I returned to the empty moving truck. I looked around inside and closed the back. While I had my back turned, he had gotten closer to my perch. I slid to sit on the bumper of the truck. He grinned.

"You guys new in town, or to the neighborhood?" His voice was like chocolate; smooth and gentle. He had a weird accent, one I recognized from my visits to Phoenix. It was a western accent. A lot harder to recognize then the southern or eastern accents I was used to.

"State, actually. We've been in New Jersey for the past two years." I replied. "My hometown is actually in Michigan though."

"So you've moved a lot?"

"Yeah. It seems like mom has to find a different school to work at every year."

"Clarinet?" He asked after a moment. I blinked. How did he know I played? That's when I remembered my case sitting beside the front door. I had been about to bring it inside when I had to help Elli. I was surprised he recognized it so quickly. I had a light blue fabric case with blue butterflies on it; most people thought it was a large lunchbox.

"You play an instrument?"

"Tuba, actually. You do marching?"

"Of course. My band back in Jersey was pretty decent. We won quite a few awards."

"Really? We went to the first state champs last year. We got eighth out of ten, but hey, we made it there, and they only took top ten bands."

"That's pretty cool. You go to Soaring Hills right?"

"Yeah. You going there too?"

"Mom says it's a pretty small school."

"It is. Our band is medium sized. Usually between sixty and eighty strong."

"How many clarinets?"

"About eight or nine, depending. We've had as few as six since I got here. I'm going to be a junior, by the way."

"Me too. Maybe we will have some classes together." It was more of a question then a statement. I already liked this guy, and I didn't even know his name.

Calm down Emi. You don't even know his name.

Your point? Cute guy is talking to me. First day here and I'm already making some kind of friend. You really want me to drop this chance?

Just saying. We don't know anything about him.

"I'm Skylar, by the way. Skylar Lundas." He smiled and outstretched a hand.

"Emalyn. Emalyn Sindel. I go by Emi though." I smiled back and returned the handshake. His grip was strong but warm. I never wanted to let go.

"Well, Emi, I will be seeing you at band camp, I expect. I'll send in the good word to our director, Mr. Taft, fro you. He will probably send you the information, but band camp starts in early august. See you around."

All too soon, Skylar was gone. I found myself leaning against the back of the moving truck.

You barely know the guy. Don't get your hopes up.

It was never this easy in Jersey.

Which means we should be extra careful. We don't need to add a broken heart to this cataclysm of junior year events.