Author's Note: I started writing this and realised that I could go so much deeper with this story. So there will be another multi-chaptered story that goes into more depth later. R&R and tell me what you think.
Wasted Time
From the point of view of an "Orch Dork" in freshmen year, the band was made up of a bunch of losers. None of them had brains and they weren't worth our attention. Their instruments were nothing in comparison to the delicate wooden instruments we played. They were everything that was considered to be coarse or unrefined… at least that was what we were told to believe.
Rude comments were often heard being thrown at us and we would often times be heard throwing cruel, hurtful words back at them. That was how our orchestra and band got along… one stupid comment after another being tossed back and forth between the two groups. They were just another bunch of airheads and we were just another bunch of snobs. The music we could have shared was wasted.
I remember the day I committed the highest taboo any person in the orchestra could commit. It was just a simple day in the fall of my sophomore year, hardly anything seemed to be special about it. In fact nothing should have been special about it if I hadn't happened upon the school's football field. An otherworldly sound seemed to float to me from where I was behind the bleachers. At first nothing seemed to strike me but, the imbedded idea that this was the enemy, not something beautiful. I told myself with contempt to move my feet and leave this poor excuse of music but... something wouldn't let me. I don't know what it was that kept me there. All I knew was that the sound was drawing me closer and closer to what was forbidden. I didn't stop until I was able to see around the corner of the bleachers, carefully hidden from view of the band. I stood there and I watched. I did nothing else... just simply watched.
I soon found a purpose to leave, however, when they took a quick water break. They had no reason to know that I was watching... no spying. That's what I told myself at least, trying to make up an excuse for my out of character behaviour. I went home that night with the song they played stuck in my head. My dreams that night would not let the guilt of what I had done leave me and then I knew that I couldn't tell anyone about my betrayal and that I would not allow myself to wander off into enemy territory again.
School the next day went well, none knowing the better about my little escapade. I managed to steer clear of the football field for the next two weeks, the whole time telling myself that the orchestra; my friends were not liars about the monsters the band kids were. And nothing changed between us. The teasing went on.
The weeks passed by slowly, something seemed to be missing from me and my friends started to notice. I wasn't the same person. I was trying so hard to keep the wall I had worked so hard to build between the bandies and me there... except something inside me kept on telling me that everything I had come to know and accept as reality wasn't true... and I just had to find out.
I found myself sneaking to the football field once again. I hid in the same place but, this time instead of the whole band being there, only two people stood on the field. One I recognised to be my music teacher and the other held what I later came to find out was a mellophone. I didn't recall who the boy was but, I knew that he was probably as evil as every other bando. My mind was stunned into silence however, when the boy put the instrument to his lips and blew out a single, pure note. It was just one note but, it seemed to show so much more emotion then I could ever find to give with my own instrument. I found myself walking closer to the football field and I clung on to the metal chainlink fence. I listened more closely to his solo then I have ever listened to any music in my whole life. He breathed a new sense of what music was into my being with one single breath into his instrument. I stood there awestruck knowing that I had just crossed a line that I would probably not be able to cross back over.
Before I knew it, he was done and reality came back to me. I was out in the open for all to see, watching the enemy and the enemy watching me. I took the first instinct I had as they both approached me... and that was to run. Their combined voices cried after me but, I didn't take the time to turn around. I ran as fast as I could up the slope, my bag and braid slapping against my back.
The next day in class my teacher gave me a knowing look that nobody else but, him and I could understand. He said nothing to me. I didn't need him to. Again I tortured myself not allowing any form of band into my life. I tried everything to keep it away from me but, no matter what I did fate seemed to have a different course. The one day I could possibly forget my music I did. I found myself making the trek back to the music room about an hour after school was out. I went in and quickly retrieved it trying not to be seen by any of the bandies that must be somewhere near the room. I didn't have any luck though. As I was leaving the room into the foyer I was stopped dead in my tracks by the boy I had seen that night on the field. We stared at each other for what felt like forever before he silently asked me to follow him. He may not have used words but, I knew that he wanted me to follow him. He led me into one of the practice rooms and that was where he confronted me. He asked me what my problem was and threw every bit of distrust he had for the orchestra at me. I stood there and took it all knowing that the hatred had to end. He stopped after he realised what I had come to believe. That was when I understood that everything the orchestra had told me to believe was not true and that more than anything I wanted to pick up one of these lovely instruments.
I was surprised at how willing the rest of the bandies were to accept me... even though I was an "Orch Dork". My music teacher started me out on the mellophone. I found that I loved it... I also found out that my talent on my other instrument seemed to improve as I became more and more happy with myself. I began to love music again and I also started to find that the people I thought were my friends only seemed to want to remain separate from the band. I started to see what it was that had divided our two musical groups.
I loved my music and my time spent in band and orchestra. At least I loved it until the director let it slip that I was now one of the bandies to the rest of my orchestra. I was shunned by many and accepted by few. I was the first to commit the taboo and certainly not the last. Don't get me wrong I still loved orchestra but, my love only seemed to revolve around that of my instrument and those that wanted to form a coexisting relationship between us. I was disappointed that only the band was interested in something like that and that my beloved orchestra still believed themselves above the band and now... me.
I continued with orchestra and band and went into the marching band the following summer of my junior year. I had so much fun. I made new friends, I learned a new instrument and I learned that hatred is so much heavier then the light feeling of love. I felt so much happier. The friends I had from band actually cared. They saw me for who I was rather than the fake friendships I had with my competition in orchestra. I wasn't being constantly watched and what rank I had didn't matter as much. I found out that there were so many stories to be told that couldn't be seen just by simply looking at a person. I found out just how hard the band kids worked to improve just a bit. For once I saw that these people didn't just work for themselves but for one band. I rose above everything the orchestra could possibly be with this understanding.
I just wish that I had not spent so much time in my life hating the ones I love so much. The short time I had with the band is done and I have no regrets accept that I didn't take more time when I was alive to be more tolerant. I find that every tear that has been wept around my grave is that of the bandos. Every rose left in memory of me was left by the bandos. I was one of them and I will march with them forever hoping that some part of my memory will inspire someone else to continue the life of happiness I had by discovering new forms of my music.
Author's Note: I love music in every form but, I find that music is best without the bitterness. My band and orchestra is constantly fighting and I find that everything I have written here is true about some of the orchestra kids and the band kids. It's frustrating coming from an orchestra where half of them hate you for being part of the band and the other half are very supportive of your choice to broaden your music. There's nothing better than being cheered on by both groups though.