Chapter 2

The next day of band was on the practice field. It possessed almost every detestable creature in the south and a few holes here and there, but it could have been worse.

"Hey! Over here Denise," cried Gerry as she waved me over to where she was standing on the field. As I walked over to her I accidentally bumped into Mia.

"You clumsy oaf what are you doing," she barded.

"I didn't mean to hit you. You were in my way," answered.

"Great," exclaimed Mia," Now we have a melon head and a dumbo," she said as she picked one of my ears. Then she defiantly walked away. But Gerry had something else on her mind judging from the wicked gleam that flashed in her eyes.

Things started off with us going over the basics (which was basically marching every which way until we were saturated with sweat). It was so hot and my legs ached so much that I ended up uttering those fatal words: "Boy it's hot out here!"

Mr. Pearce immediately stopped the whole band and ordered us to face him. His face looked colder and more unfeeling than usual as he said, "Ms. Denise Williams has discovered that it's hot band? Despite the fact that it's August in the South she seems surprised of a little heat!"

The band silently watched him make his way over to my side. I couldn't help feeling terrified and embarrassed.

"Are you tired Ms. Williams?" he asked.

"Well, Mr. Pearce," I stammered, "we have been marching for a while…I'm sorter tired." That was the second most stupid thing I could say. Mr. Pearce walked away with a frightening smile on his usually stern face.

I think he's going to give us a break, I thought to myself.

He started to chuckle and then asked the entire band.

"Who else is tired! I'd love to know!"

"I am," answered a voice from the trumpet section. It was followed by a passionate "Ouch!" after Nina, the trumpet section leader, pinched the guy standing next to her.

I was surprised to realize the guy was Calvin Miller, another freshman I knew well in eight grade.

"Band, ten hut!" Mr. Pearce announced, "Thanks to the bold defiance of Ms. Denise and Mr. Calvin, you will all march an extra thirty minutes of class that was originally your break. Alright face front! March forward sixteen counts, left block, right block, and then backwards sixteen counts! 5...6...5..6..7..8!"

And we marched all class period doing blocks, marching back, forward, right, left, and at different paces and size steps. It seemed to grow hotter and hotter with every step and it was all because of my stupid comment: "Boy it's hot out here!"

"Thanks a lot Dumbo," scoffed Mia as she "accidentally" pushed her flag pole in my side when we began switching lines.

"On, my bad," Mia apologized in a dry voice. I unconsciously touched the tip of my ear to check for any extraneous growth (of course Mia was only exaggerating) and then sadly went back into formation. Despite al this, Mia wouldn't end up with the upper hand.

The colorguard happened to march directly in front of the trombones and Gerry was lined up behind Mia. I sort of knew what would happen next. First there was Mr. Pearce shouting, "Left…Left…Left..Right..Left!" Then I saw Mia move too far back on a backup and Gerry stayed perfectly in place. Then it happened:

The end of Gerry's trombone got caught into Mia's shirt and as Mia frantically tried to loosen herself, her hair even got twisted into the jumble. I also noticed that Gerry's horn wasn't completely flushed out due to the wet spots that suddenly appeared on Mia's shirt. At this point Gina had rushed over and was trying to help the two girls untangle the mess.

For me the spectacle was pretty amusing. I mean, I couldn't stand Mia anyway. She was such a snobby pain and the sight of Mia hopelessly fighting with a trombone slide was hilarious.

To this day Gerry still won't tell me if this incident was a mistake or not, but it was always a wonderful thing to remember when Mia was at her cruelest.