Hey guys :) This chapter is a lot of background info filler. So. I mean at least it's out of the way after this right? Right!
Chapter 2:
When I was ten I started playing the drums. Well if we're going to be specific, I was the fourth grader playing the ear splitting bell set in the elementary concert band since, the band director explained to me, "Spencer. Girls don't play drums." I played the hell out of those god awful bells though. Ask any of the kids who were around me. Course you'll have to speak loudly; they probably only have 70% of their hearing now because of it.
After three long years of making other kids' ears bleed with my wonderful bell technique, I left elementary school and headed to the great big seventh grade. Finally, I would get to play the drums. I tried out for snare because it's the most articulate of the drums, which really means it's like the big cheese of the drum line: if you want to be the center of attention you play snare. And I did, play snare that is. Actually I played so well that I even surprised myself. Suddenly I went from the one girl with blonde hair to that one girl snare drummer, you know, the one who's better than all the boys. And things changed.
Other girls in the band studied me like I was a rare tropical bird. The boys in the line hated me at first; Ryan was so angry I beat him out for section leader that he didn't talk to me pretty much all of seventh grade. By eighth grade he had changed his mind and started asking me to be his girlfriend every day instead. Boys.
Ryan and I became like siblings by the time we were fifteen and moving over to the high school. Slowly, each member of the drum line became a part of the family that was originally Ryan and I and, somehow, we ended up as the dysfunctional piece of heaven we are now. I'm talking about the kind of friends that call you at 3 am just to whisper salami into the phone and hang up; that's us. Let me lay it out for you:
Spencer (yay me!)—snare. leader of the pack. Everyone looks to me for direction and entertainment. I'm responsible, efficient, and good at what I do, but also random and hyperactive. I'll sell you car insurance then steal your car and ramp it off the freeway. I can't help it. It's in my blood. I like to laugh and you better too. Or else. Age: 17. Motto: all work and no play makes Jane an eighty year old woman with a bum hip and a house full of cats.
Ryan- snare. Right hand man. If something needs fixed or a truck needs loaded, this guy is there with a head lamp and a socket set before you can say yahtzee. He's eager to please and generally slow to understand a joke, but he's good natured and kind. If only he could find a girl who was older than like twelve to date. Cradle robber. Age: 17. Motto: If it ain't broke yet we'll probably break it by dinner, but I bet I can get it up and running again by dessert…. There will be dessert right?
Olli- tenors. The minority. Our resident Native American, Olli is a laugh a minute and about as serious as face painting at the zoo. He's naturally good at drumming, though he couldn't read a note of music to save his life. With his dark Cherokee complexion and warm brown eyes, he's also the object of most every girl's affection in the high school; he, however, would much rather spend his free time with his skateboard or eating cheese poofs. Age: 16. Motto: Dude. What if aliens have their own food that's way more awesome than ours and we don't even know about it. Like super turkey or extreme pudding. I WANT AN EXTREME PUDDING EXPERIENCE!
Scott- tenors. You know, THAT guy. Olli's better half, Scott, or as we call him, Scoot, is the go to guy for any of your comedic needs. Awkward, sad, or high tension situation? Give Scoot a try and he'll have everyone laughing on the ground in tears in less than a minute. He's husky, he's loud, he's packed full of love, and he's got more flem then two average humans combined. Many have compared him to Shrek, which he has ensured us IS a reasonable cause to buy a pet donkey. Age: 15. Motto: I had a burrito for lunch and I'm nervous. I can't help it if my intestines think I should share a little Scoot with everyone.
Ryan, Olli, Scoot, and I come as a box set. If one of us is in the principal's office, you can bet the other three aren't far behind, but it's good that way. I'd lay down my life for any of them and I suspect they'd do the same for me. Heck, Ryan would probably lay his down twice and throw in a free bobble head. We're tight, but there's more…
The other half of our family [you know, the weird side no one ever shows pictures of to their friends] is the pit. The pit is what we call all of the mallet and various other percussion instruments that are off to the side of the tarp while the drum line is actually working, otherwise known as marching, out on the floor. The pit doesn't march. We call that lazy. They call it classy. Whatever. Either way, we love our pit and, although we act like there's a giant civil war at times between the two of us, we pretty much gather around a fire every night, hold hands, and cry about how much we couldn't imagine living without the other.
We say the pit sucks often, but in drum speak, that actually means I love you.
In essence, the pit is the ying to our yang. We're already pretty tight with their new eighth graders since they've been practicing for a few weeks with us. Here's the rundown of a few key players:
Hazel-Vibes. The level headed one. Hazel is practically the center of the universe. Not only is she the leader of the pit and a bomb vibe player, she is also the only one in the group that attempts to keep some sense of reality in decision processes. The voice of reason who suggests that having fire jumping competitions is a bad choice, Hazel keeps everyone in constant confusion by bringing cookies to rehearsal or throwing random parking lot dance parties… not that they run too late mind you. Is she awesome? Is she a spoil sport? It's an utter mystery to all of us. If ever there was a drum line mom, Hazel's it, and she loves it. Age: 16. Motto: You can't just run screaming into everything you do, sometimes you have to actually think. And walk. You know, like you're not 5.
Renee- Marimba. The gutter brain. If you think Scoot is loud, you should meet his lady, Renee. The craziest four mallet player you've ever met, this petite little rip has the heart of a fluffy bunny and the lungs of an ox. Actually, Renee is the she they're referring to when they say "that's what she said," so now you know. She's the perfect mix of sweet and obscene. She'll jack you in the face and tell you you're ugly, then offer you a glass of lemonade. Sure, she's one of the new junior high kids, but it took her all of eight seconds to fit right in. God love her, she'll be the end of us all. Age: 14. Motto: Suck it.
Gemma, Nat, and the others- the back ups. The members of the pit that, when switched out for coat racks, the drum line still doesn't realize have changed until three days later. These are the faces that are on the outskirts of our family, not quite sure if they're ready to commit to our ensemble or not, so we haven't readily committed to them either. They each have their own skills and character, but I'll wait to introduce them once they decide whether they're in for the long haul or not. I mean it does get pretty intense around here; some of these kids just can't take the pain.
So that more or less summarizes our immediate drum line family. Would you want to run into us in a dark alley? Not if you're afraid of wet willies and life changing fart bombs. No sir.
Are we ready to introduce our new eighth graders into this family? I hope to. I know that there is hope for some of them, but I can't wait to get to know them and see how they mesh with all of us who have been around for years. Lord knows if Scoot moons them within the first week they'll probably never return. You don't come back from that business. But then again, you don't really get to "come back" from us at all. Once you're in, you're in. Period.
As the frog stands unmoving, the tiny bug lands softly on the water unaware of its sudden predicament. The frog's tongue whips out of its mouth at lightening speed and, poof, the bug is no more…
…the slide looks fun. I think I'll start there. I throw my hands up in the air and laugh as I start to slip down the tube..
BAM! I feel Ryan jerk awake beside me as the hollow echo of my forehead hitting the desk cuts through the silent biology room. Quickly wiping the drool off my cheek I pop my head back up and look at the teacher, Ms. Grigsby, standing at attention in the center of the room.
"Spencer." Ms. Grigsby simply states and points towards the door, disappointment tingeing her features. As if it's surprising to her that anyone could fall asleep during a movie about the daily life of frogs, so surprising in fact that she can no longer share the same living space with them. I quietly gather my books and then turn abruptly, making sure I hit Ryan in the face with my bio book on my way out the door.
"See you after school, weenie" he whispers, rubbing his forehead.
Ms. Grigsby opens the door and I slink out around her honking square shoulders, turning towards the Principal's office. The movie narrator's hushed voice returns, murmuring down the hall. I hear the bio door click quietly shut and turn towards the auditorium. I don't think the principle is up for a visit with me today. After all, I did just nap. I'm on my A game now.
I turn on my pimp walk as I pass the study hall students in the cafeteria. I mean I'm always working it, what with the hair and the eyes, but, after months of testing, Olli and I have also perfected what we refer to as the "pimp walk." Used only in the public eye, the pimp walk never fails to attract attention. When performed simultaneously, there is a slight risk that Olli and I could cause an innocent bystander's head to explode from the overwhelming amount of awesomeness. That's just how we roll. Needless to say, I see a couple heads turn in my direction as my converse shoes carry me through the cafeteria and to the auditorium doors. With a signature bangs flip, I slowly pull the door open and peek inside.
"Alright, alright! Ashley good. Kevin, you're on the and of count 2 not count 3. Chase, a little more volume out of you would be nice. Heather good. Let's run those three measures again. Great job guys!"
I sigh as Mr. Allen taps his foot and claps his hands to start us again. We've been going to the high school all week during our junior high band period to run the exercises the high school drum line warms up with. I'm first bass, so the exercises can get kind of boring for me at this slow tempo. I can hit the drum and stare at the wall for a solid minute before the music runs from my drum down to the fourth bass and then back up to me again. Mr. Allen tries to give us lots of confidence, but taking the exercises at like 10 beats per minute isn't getting my heart pumping.
Mr. Allen claps us to start playing again. I mark time with my heels and hit my drum on beat 1. I think about what I'm going to have for dinner. I brainstorm a couple ideas for a paper I have due in English on Monday. I imagine what I would look like with blonde hair and an eyebrow ring. I blink three times. I hit my drum for beat 1 again.
"YEAAHHH!" Mr. Allen throws his hands up in the air, sheet music flying everywhere, and runs down the line giving each of us high fives. Oh boy. We're so awesome at the speed of 'turtle with a bad knee and only three legs.' I shake my head and grin at his sheer excitement and notice that, just past him, a sliver of light is dwindling in the back of the auditorium where the door is slowly swinging shut.
Spencer emerges quietly from the back shadows of the auditorium. She covers her mouth with her hand and shakes her head as her eyes follow Mr. Allen's victory dance across the stage. Her eyes come to rest on mine and we both erupt into a fit of giggles as Mr. Allen finally turns and sees he has an audience.
"See Allen! I'd put a ring on that! You got the moves man!" Spencer says, walking up the stairs to the stage. Mr. Allen starts gathering his music off the floor, smiling with pink tinted cheeks. I love how he is so cool with the older kids. I hope I can laugh and joke with him like that too someday, but being only 14, I feel like I have to kind of hang back and get used to how everything works around the high school before I try to find my place in it all. Looking at Spencer bubbling with laughter, I smile. I hope I get there soon.
I stifle a laugh with my hand as I walk towards the stage. Mr. Allen is doing the running man, his feet kicking up the music all around him. Allen clearly has no idea I'm here and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it. The bass drummers are all grinning with amusement as he breaks into Beyonce's single ladies dance. I meet Ashley's eyes and bust up laughing.
"See Allen! I'd put a ring on that! You got the moves man!" I say, plopping down in one of the chairs on the stage. The basses are set up in a semi circle, all watching Allen as he gathers his celebratory confetti of music. "So I take it exercises are coming along then?"
Allen clears his throat as he taps his papers into a neat pile on the chair beside me. He winks and smiles, "Oh they're just dandy Spencer. Couple more weeks and we'll have ourselves quite the bass line." I can practically see the excitement coming out of Allen's ears. He gets all pumped about the weirdest things.
"Well thank heavens for that. I figured teaching this lot would take years!" I say, winking at Ashley and looking at the boys who're smiling and looking at their feet. I should really make an effort to get to know these kids, seeing as we'll spend pretty much every day together up until I graduate high school. Gotta love how band takes over your whole life.
"Hey Spencer, you take over here while I got get ready for band next period. Great job today basses!" Allen says over his shoulder, heading out the side entrance of the auditorium towards the band room. I turn back to the basses and they're all standing and staring at me like I'm a serial killer.
"Well hello basses. How are we? Sit down, get comfy. I'm not gonna work you today." I say, slouching down in my chair and picking up the pair of sticks Allen left on a music stand. It's third degree time.
Spencer is practically laying in her chair, legs sprawled out, flipping and twirling drumsticks around with ease while firing questions off at each of us. She's so random it makes me laugh every time. She probably thinks I'm a total creep by the way I just sit here giggling at her without saying much. I don't understand how one person can possibly speak so quickly.
"So what's your name then?" Spencer says.
"Kevin."
"Ah Kevin, that's a nice name. Tell me Kevin. Do you like bacon?
"mm yeah it's okay I guess."
"I see. And has your mom ever made you bacon Kevin? Perhaps even called it Kevin's bacon? Or shortened it, for that matter, to Kevin bacon? Do you know who Kevin Bacon is Kevin? Do you?"
"No?" Kevin squeaks and I laugh. He's clearly sweating and Spencer just keeps talking.
"Hey that's okay Kevin. I will educate you. You're not really missing out on much anyway. How do you feel about pizza?"
"I like pizza." Kevin says, smiling and nodding his head.
"Oh we're gonna be great friends then. You're my new favorite second bass drummer." Spencer says, smiling at him as he laughs. She's good with people. You can tell she's in her element; she's totally confident, even in a room of people she's never really met.
"Chase."
"Yeah Spencer?" Chase says, clearly surprised the Spencer remembered his name.
"You watch family guy?"
"Psh yeah, every night," Chase says, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "It's my total favorite."
"Uh huh, excellent…HEATHER!" Heather jumps as Spencer whips her head around to look at her while screaming her name. "Hi!" she adds with a wave.
"Oh hey!" Heather waves back smiling. I feel like maybe she's a little bit more air than brains. But that's just a guesstimate.
"So Ashley what's your favorite subject?" Just like that, it's my turn and I'm blushing. Where did this blush come from? Get it together girl, she's only your idol and the coolest person ever. Don't panic.
"Um. Well. I hate history. I guess I like English alright. I mean band is my favorite class, but that's not really a subject. I like the bass drum." She stares at me with a half smirk as I finish my babble. Cue panic. I feel my cheeks heat up and I laugh quietly. "Sorry."
"No, noo carry on!" Spencer says, twirling her stick over her hand. "I figured at this rate by the end of the period we'd know all your life goals and your favorite lunch meat. You just keep talking, I'll go adjust the spotlight so it's right on you," she adds with a laugh.
"That's all I ask," I say, playing off her sarcasm.
"Good good. What is your favorite lunch meat anyway?"
"Uh roast beef I guess," I say off the top of my head. I mean who asks that?
"Interesting," she says looking intently into my face, then claps her hands and jumps out of the chair. "Come now, band time," she adds, as the bell dings.
Heather, Chase, Kevin, and I look at each other like 'what the hell?' and then jump up to follow Spencer out. That was probably the most random welcoming party I've ever been a part of, but, you know what? I feel a thousand times better about being a part of this group with older kids when they're funny and easy going like Spencer. I smile to myself. It's gonna be so much fun.
Looking down the hallway I see a flash of blonde as Spencer leaps onto some tall guy's back and lifts a pretend sword towards the sky. They buck around yipping then rip down the hall, galloping towards the band room to the sound of her shrill warrior cry. He weaves through students. She slices them with her invisible weapon. I laugh along with the other bass drummers around me and begin to feel a sense of comradery already. Spencer dismounts and turns towards us, bellowing down the hallway in a heavy Scottish accent, "Bass drummers! FOR FREEEEDOOOOOMMMMM!" then promptly charges through the band room doors.
Yes, this could be a very interesting season indeed.
I hope you all have a wonderful holiday! I feel so accomplished just getting this up before Christmas. Win!