Morning came much too soon. I'd tried to stock up on as much sleep as possible the week earlier, but when my alarm went off at 5, I still through my arm over my eyes, praying that if I ignored the sound, it might fade. Of course it stayed insistent, and I got up and turned it off before it woke Megan. Pulling my clothes on as quietly as I could, I grabbed my shoes and headed out the door. Once I was got to the hallway, I sat down to tie them and found Ms. Boyden. We didn't run for long, about half an hour, before I went back to my room and found Megan, very grudgingly rousing herself from the bed.
I hopped in the shower and then pulled some dry clothes on, leaving the bathroom free for Megan while I got my binder, slathered on sunscreen and bug spray, and headed out the door. Only Mr. Sacket was downstairs, reading a book waiting for people to come down. When I'd made drum major last year, he'd pulled me aside and laid down the rules for being a drum major. One of them was that we were always supposed to come early and stay late, no exceptions. I was 15 minutes early and 5 minutes later Matt showed up, binder in hand and OSU hat covering his hair. Mr. Sacket glanced up at us and smiled, but kept on reading.
A few minutes till, the rest of the band filed down the stairs and popped out of the elevator, rubbing eyes and stifling yawns. It was 6am, who could blame them? Even the instructors look tired. We were used to it by now, but you could pick out the freshman from their bewildered expressions as the stars faded from the sky outside.
We ate breakfast and tried to shake ourselves awake, then Matt and I were in charge of stretches. We put everybody in parade block and started stretching, which woke everybody up more than breakfast had. We'd come up with names for everything, like Superman to stretch out our legs and a song when we did arm circles. Matt and I grinned at each other as we announced arm circles, heard everyone groan, and began.
"Okay, repeat after me." Matt began, and I smiled. This was going to be so much fun. "I love arm circles." The upperclassmen groaned, the freshman looked confused, but everyone dutifully repeated.
"I love arm circles."
"Arm circles I adore!" Pretty much everyone hated them, but again, you heard the echo of the whole band, strained or not.
"Arm circles I adore."
"And since I cannot feel them!" The biggest lie ever. Arm circles burned the beginning of your freshman year, but after you got used to them, it wasn't that bad.
"And since I cannot feel them."
"I'll do 10,000 more!" We would probably do 10,000 of them by the time we graduated, although no one really counted. Someone should, just to see how many we really did.
"I'll do 10,000 more." Everyone dropped their hands to their sides, and after a call to attention, we marched down to the practice field.
It was 10 minutes before the official start time, so everyone milled around, talking to friends, setting down water bottles and getting out instruments. Anyone who had forgotten bug spray or sunscreen slathered on some of the extra they always brought from the medical tent, and then began receiving coordinates from their section leaders. Matt and I had already situated ourselves on the podiums, him on one to the right, mine on the left. Watching the clarinet section, I felt a pang of loss, which surprised me. I had been thrilled to make drum major, and I should be happy. But we didn't have drill, obviously, and I wouldn't be Clarinet number 9, or 14, or any other number. I finally had a name, true, and a very official title, but the loss of coordinates and a number was surprisingly sad.
I looked over at Matt practicing, and pushed that out of my head. Flipping over my binder, I began to practice on the last tune. We'd met twice a week every week over the summer, and had memorized all of the music. At least he had; I was still a little shaky on the last piece, 'Coronation Scene' or 'CS' for short from Boris Gudunov. But we wouldn't be performing that today, and the first two pieces, 'Ruslan and Ludmilla' and 'Nessun Dorma' I had down pat.
As everyone found their opening set, I stood up on the podium and observed. It felt so odd not to be marking off from yard lines and finding hash lines, to just be watching the organized chaos happening on the field.
Flipping to my drill charts, I made sure that everyone was getting to the right spot. Leadership and upperclassmen were helping freshman and other rookies find their dots. Confusion was etched on some faces, and then understanding would dawn on a few faces, while others conversed with section leaders to figure out how exactly you read this thing called coordinates.
Jacob was helping a freshman in his section find his spot, completing the arc that would begin the show. Megan was yawning on her dot, and I laughed a little to myself. She probably hadn't gone to bed quiet as early as I had, and now she was feeling it. But she was always the one at the end of the two weeks who would have huge circles under sleep deprived eyes, which contrasted oddly with the huge grin she would have on her face. She had survived two years thus far, she would survive now. I was worried a little bit about the freshman, but then again, telling them to go to bed earlier wouldn't do anything. They would have to live and learn.
The morning progressed quickly. Before any more sets were put down, the basics of marching were taught. The sun climbed higher in the sky, a breeze refused to blow, clouds covered everywhere but the practice field, and the tenors tried to catch the sunlight in the underside of their drums and blind Matt and me. We laughed, pulled sunglasses over our eyes, and tried not to look at the back of the field.
Each set went pretty well, and we tried running it all the way through several times closer to the end. We put down 4 sets before lining up in parade block and marching down to lunch. We released by class, calling the seniors first, then the juniors, and so on and so forth. I remembered having to hold attention last year, the sun hot and brutal, beads of sweat rolling from places you didn't think could sweat. There was never a breeze when you stood at attention, ever. No matter how much you willed it, and the drum majors were the only people who could move. Everyone envied them, and I felt a pang of pity for Jacob and Megan, having to stand still in the baking sun while I could move freely.
Once everyone had gotten called, we went inside for lunch. My parents, and every other adult in the world, always said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. Not at band camp. At band camp, lunch was the most important meal of the day. Breakfast gave you fuel for the morning, true, but lunch was the longest meal, it had the most options, and you were the hungriest before it, so it tasted better. They also had dessert, and every year without fail they had some delicious type of brownie, pie, or cake that was mouthwatering. Forget healthy food, it's not like you could gain weight at band camp.
Sectionals were after lunch, and Matt and I had one with Mr. Sacket. We would work on music, probably the last show piece some for me, maybe some stands tunes for when the season started, or just practice the entire show all the way through. No one was really sure why the drum major's had sectionals, since we already knew all the music by the time band camp started. We always chalked it up to practice, which according to Mr. Sacket you could never have too much of.
That was all we did, too. We ran the show, start to finish without stopping several times, made sure our hands were always in the right place, cues were on time, and crescendo's held to full value. Everything was review, but it still would help when we performed it at the end of camp. We filmed every performance, and on the first day of school would have to watch it. Nobody wanted to mess up on camera.
When sectionals were over I headed back to my dorm. Megan was already there, getting out of the shower. The Saxes were known to end sectionals early, so it wasn't that surprising to find her already there. She smiled at me as I pulled my shoes off and collapsed onto the bed.
"How has your day been so far?" I propped myself up on my elbows and put my sunglasses on the side table next to the bed.
"Pretty good, although we did nothing in practice but review, review, review. Does Mr. Sacket realize that we already know the whole show? I was grateful for the time we spent on 'CS', but besides that, it was pretty basic. How was your sectional?" She immediately launched into how it had been, what music they worked on, and how she was sure this year she would be the first to memorize all her music, from her section at least.
My phone buzzed as she was talking about the dance the Saxes were going to do in the talent show. I had a message from Jacob, saying that if we wanted to practice our piece for the talent show, the auditorium was open. We sang together every year, and I played the piano. My freshman year we hadn't done anything, but last year we'd performed 'Good Life' by OneRepublic, and this year we were going to do 'Payphone' by Maroon 5. I hadn't told Megan about it because I knew she'd be upset. I was singing a song, a relationship song, with the boy I liked but wasn't dating. It would drive her nuts when we performed, but at least I would get some silence now.
Putting on some flip flops and combing my hair, I went down to the auditorium. The curse of playing something on piano was that the only time we could practice was when we had permission to use what they called 'Building E', E for entertainment, and it held several rooms where you could have get-togethers (never parties, according to the College Board) along with the auditorium. Jacob and I spent the next hour of our two hour break practicing. The talent show was tomorrow, and every act was required to perform in the auditorium at least once before then, to get a feel for the venue and everything.
I took a nap for a half hour, took another shower, and then went back down for evening practice. Matt was already waiting, listening to the show music from his iPod as he practiced with his folder. Mr. Sacket was reading the same book I had seen him with this morning, and I spotted another girl, either a freshman or a sophomore, with a KindleFire reading. I hadn't brought anything to occupy myself with for the next ten minutes, so I went over to the girl. Mr. Sacket had said that we should try to talk to every member of the band at least once this semester, so I should probably start now.
"Hi," I said, sitting down next to her. She glanced at me, as if surprised that I was speaking to her, and bookmarked her page before turning the Kindle off.
"Hi," she replied, slightly awkwardly, crossing her legs for something to do. I never thought as drum major that I'd come off as lofty, but I suppose to underclassmen it was bound to happen.
"What instrument do you play?" I guess the best way to talk to her would be to go through the obvious band questions. She held up her folder.
"Bass clarinet, I'm the only girl and the only sophomore." Okay, that got the grade level question out of the way. Our bass clarinets were few, with only five in the section- two seniors, two juniors, and apparently one sophomore. No freshman had come in this year.
"The only girl, that couldn't be terribly fun." She shrugged, as if she had gotten used to it. I vaguely remembered seeing a small girl last year that looked a little like her, marching about five yards from where I was with a bass clarinet. Maybe that was her.
"Well, I play clarinet, I think I saw you last year. What's your name?" People were starting to come down the stairs, and someone with a wrapped ankle stepped off the elevator. She looked grateful that the rest of humanity was finally joining us.
"I'm Madison, and you're Nicole, right?" I nodded. She probably remembered me from the few times the bass clarinets and clarinets had hung out together. "I auditioned for drum major too, but I was so happy when you got it. We all were watching through the door, you did great. I knew you'd make it." Surprise jolted through me. She had auditioned for drum major? How did I not remember? Only a handful of people came to every lesson, and at the end someone had made chocolate S'mores cupcakes...
"You were the one who made us all get a sugar high from the cupcakes you brought." She laughed a little before nodding.
"I thought people would like them, and I never did mean to put that much sugar in them. My little sister poured extra in when I was heating up the oven and had my back turned." I grinned. No one could ever remember this girl's name, probably because she was from such a small section. I said goodbye to her and headed out as Mr. Sacket called for us.
Evening practice was barely cooler than the morning had been, and people were still tired. We filed up for dinner, then back down again for night practice. Instrument cases were laid in the shade of trees to protect them from the ever present sun, and still more sunscreen and bug spray was applied. We marched and played until 8 o'clock, then were told to go back to our dorms. Lights out was always at 10, but I would be asleep way before then.
Megan wasn't in the dorm when I got there, so I hopped in the shower. When I got out, she was there, all smiles, with a bouquet of lilies sitting in a vase on her side table. I raised my eyebrow at her, and she pulled me onto her bed, eyes blazing as she recounted the story.
She'd had a crush on Travis, one of the snare drum players, for several weeks. There was rumour going around that he might ask her out, and apparently, he had. The drumline had played a drum roll, and he'd pulled her over as everyone was going off the field and asked her. Of course she had said yes, he'd given her flowers, and now they were an item.
As happy as I was for Megan, I also felt a pang of jealousy. Here, she'd only had a crush on this boy for a few weeks and now they were a thing. I'd liked Jacob for years now, and he was dating another girl. Another, much prettier girl, that I knew made him happy and that they had fun together. Why did I have to be the one with the love triangle? I'd vowed, the first time I read 'Twilight' that I would never let myself get involved in one. But here I was, liking a boy who was dating someone else, my poor heart cracking a little more each time I saw them together. But Courtney and I had been friends once, and although we'd grown apart, we still liked each other. Megan had none of these problems, and no one had objected to her and Travis becoming a thing. I smiled with her, congratulated her, then said I was tired and crawled under the sheets. In a pathetic sort of way, I wanted to cry. But, as I'd once heard Fergie sing, 'Big Girl's Don't Cry'. And I was junior in high school, sharing a room with someone else. There would be no tears tonight.