I haven't forgotten about Julia. I've just been working on another book…ok, just kidding, two books and traveling, a lot…

And who knew I had such a knack for naming my completely fictional characters real people's names?

AN: I do own the characters.

Chapter 4: Atypical Situations

I really don't like this girl standing in front of me. I mean, I think I like her even less than the girl who was glaring at me earlier today, which is saying a lot. Anthropolgie Skirt Girl is obviously no dummy. She's picked up on the fact that I am already completely in love with her boyfriend…? Friend? Cousin? I silently pray that they are just friends or related somehow, although there's no way I would be giving my cousin Chris looks like she's giving McDaniel. ASG squints her eyes at me and I resist the urge to stick out my tongue at her. Then again, I kind of recognize that maybe I wouldn't like me either, but if she knows that McDaniel and I are meant to be, why can't she just back off already?

Denny seems to have also figured out that the mood in the room has changed as well. In a transformation worthy of a superhero, he has quickly morphed from cute and flirty to growly and stern.

"Who's this?" My now arch-enemy asks in a kind of high pitched and squeaky voice that has a underlying disgusted tone to it.

And then suddenly I see how she's seeing me. I realize I'm kind of a pitiful mess on the floor and this is probably the worst first impression that I will ever give someone. Why would she back off of me and McDaniel? I'm sure to this chick I'm just some gross new girl bleeding all over the floor of the band room. What does she have to worry about?

McDaniel answers her question, "The newest member of the Westlake Drum Line, Julia McCoy."

"I thought auditions were awhile ago," she challenges. Her comment definitely tweaks my interest. They already had auditions? Was I really that good with my set playing or does McDaniel just think I'm cute? At this point, either answer will make me happy.

McDreamy, I mean McDaniel, responds, "Only three quints were quality enough at tryouts, so technically we had another spot." Oh. Well, I guess it wasn't the cute thing. Darn!

At this point I feel like I should probably add to the conversation, rather than sit helplessly on the ground. I ask bluntly, "Who are you?"

"My name is Kimberly." She says it with such authority I wonder if I'm supposed to know or care who or what a 'Kimberly' is.

Apparently, this is obvious on my face because Denny provides the details, "Kimberly is one of our Drum Majors."

Drum Major? Does that put her in charge of our section? I thought McDaniel was our Captain. I'm confused.

Denny sighs deeply and begins speaking in his newly minted "Julia is a five year old tone," "The Drum Major is the person or one of the people that leads the entire band. She's like a conductor."

Well, this drum set playing gal has never had to watch a conductor, band director, or orchestra leader. Behind my drums I set my own tempos. Plus, I mean, does this Kimberly even play an instrument? What right does she have to go around conducting everyone? Who made her Queen of the Band?

I guess everyone at Westlake can read my mind, because Kimberly adds, "I'm also first chair trumpet during the concert season."

All the things these people are saying make no sense to me. What is a first chair? What is the concert season?

I guess McDaniel decides that we've all had enough of each other for now and says, "Julia, you'll obviously need to go over the fundamentals of marching before we start sectionals for the summer. I will expect Denny and you to work out some sort of practice schedule."

The wheels in my head come crashing to a halt and I begin to realize that I may be in over my head. Not that I would ever admit to that. I'm not the girl who backs down from anything. However, I had pictured this summer filled with lazy days by the pool, maybe a fun summer job, and definitely finding a new band to play with.

Denny looks at me, "How about tomorrow afternoon?"

I mutter sarcastically, "Well, I'll have to check my busy social schedule, you know, since I just moved here four days ago."

Denny, McDaniel, and Kimberly share a look that basically says, "This girl is going to be trouble." Whatever, let them deal with it. Being sarcastic and boy crazy has gotten me to a lot of fun places in my almost sixteen years.

I gather my bookbag, shrug and say, "What time?"

Denny answers, "Two-thirty, no heels, no flip flops."

I think of my pink Chuck Taylors and nod, "See you then."

I walk out of the band room, through the halls of my new high school and just as I'm about to walk out I see a bulletin board. With a very important sign. It reads simply "Battle of the Bands." Like a magnet I walk over to it and scan the details. Breathing a sigh of relief, I have this instant feeling that no matter what happens over the next two years, things will ultimately be ok. I pull out my Hello Kitty notepad and jot down the directions. Who knows? Maybe I'll find a new band while I'm there. Life is just more fun when you have band practices and gigs to look forward to.

Tucking my notepad away and pulling out my nano iPod, I walk back home, listening to Jared in Shorts songs on the way. I try not to get nostalgic and sad, but it's tough. Back at my new house, I feel weirdly inspired and motivated to take my mind off the move and the fact that I will not be seeing anyone I know anytime soon. It's not too difficult to find something to concentrate on. I think back about the conversation in the band room. The thing is, I hate not knowing about things. I hate being on the outside of things. I don't want anyone to think I don't know what I'm talking about. So, I log onto my computer and type in 'marching band' and a whole bunch of websites appear. For the better part of three hours, I read as much as I can and decide that at least I will be joining the best section in the marching band.

At dinner, my parents are all inquisitive about my afternoon.

My mom asks tentatively, "Is there anything you're going to get involved in?"

See, my parents aren't too bad about the super pressure that is "what you do in high school ultimately affects the rest of your life," but I know that, as their only child, they don't want to raise a total slacker.

I twirl pasta around my fork, "Well, I'll be taking mostly honors courses and…I guess I might be joining the marching band."

My parents smile across the table at each other. It's actually the kind of smile that makes me feel really good inside. I'm sure they had some reservations about moving and somehow hearing me get involved in something makes them feel better.

Dad asks, "So, when will you know for sure if you're joining?"

Thinking of McDaniel, I say, "I kind of auditioned this afternoon for the Drum Line…and, I made it."

For the first time in years, Mom actually squeals, "Honey! Why didn't you say anything? That calls for a celebration!"

Dad leans over and squeezes my hand, "We'll celebrate this weekend. Pick any restaurant you'd like. We should start to get to know the city."

Bonus!

The following day, Denny and I are back in the parking lot, the quints are at our feet. If I look closely, I think I can see part of my jeans and a chunk of my skin on the parking lot. Looking down, I am pleased with the outfit I have chosen today. I have on a very cute pleated black linen skirt, my classic pink Chuck Taylors and a white wifebeater. Denny gave me a strange look when I showed up in the band room, but I think that just because I am drumming that is no excuse not for me to look cute. Besides, I wore sneakers like he asked. Oh, crap, I should be paying attention.

"Were you listening to anything I said?"

I answer honestly, "No."

Denny runs a hand through his spiked hair and asks, "Do you really want to learn how to march?"

"I have to learn to march if I want to be on quints, right?"

"Right."

"Then, it doesn't really matter if I want to do anything. It's something I have to do."

Denny looks confused and partially like he's completely regretted the decision to add me to his section, but sucks it up and proceeds to drill me for the better part of two hours. Mind you, this is all sans instruments. I look longingly over at my quints, which I have secretly decided to name Quincy, and even though I know they are SO heavy, I think they look bad ass and I do not want to be crabstepping around the parking lot playing imaginary quints.

Finally, Denny decides we've had enough and we break for water. I have sweat more this afternoon than I have in a long time, but it's the good kind of perspiration. While we are at the water fountain, a young Westlake male approaches us. He is vaguely attractive in that jock-esque way. Well, he was kind of attractive for about 3.5 seconds until he actually pushes past Denny like he's in this big hurry to drink water.

Not sure if it's the heat I've been subjected to, or if it's just the fact that no one really knows me, but in defense of my new section mate I say, "Excuse me?"

Denny pulls on my arm to walk away saying quietly, "Don't worry about it, Julia."

The jock, who is at least a foot taller than me, "Yeah, that's right, Napoleon. Walk away."

Denny literally has to pull me away from the scene. When we haven't made it all that far down the hall I ask, "What the hell was that about?"

My section leader doesn't really strike me as the type who just walks away from scenarios like what just happened. Well, maybe… I suddenly think about the underlying tension between McDaniel and Denny and wonder if maybe Denny doesn't have a little problem with sticking up for himself.

Denny looks down the hall and back at me, before saying, "I used to play football."

And suddenly I can see Denny Napoleon as a football player – all cute and perfect in his uniform. Maybe Denny can see that I am seeing this and he flushes.

"Did you recently quit or something?"

He looks off, "When I came to high school."

There's something in his voice that tells me, of course, there's SO much more to the story, but also for the time being I should just really shut up about it. So, I'll respect that for now.

Trying to be an exemplary member of the quint section I change the subject, "Are we done for the day?"

He nods, but says with a small smile, "Tomorrow with quints."

I am so excited! I go home and sign online to talk to Kat. I could call her, but sometimes it's more fun to just chat about things.

TheKat: Howdy y'all!

Setplayher: Ha ha.

TheKat: Have things improved any? Did you see McDaniel today?

Setplayher: Yes and no. Things are improving, but no sign of my future husband today.

I sit back and look at the computer. Half of the reason I got all dolled up today was because I thought for sure the Captain would make an appearance at my marching practice today. Maybe he just trusts Denny that much… I hope it's not because he was busy with anyone named Kimberly.

TheKat: How did the 'marching lesson' go today? (Is that what the kids in the South are calling it these days?)

Setplayher: It was a marching lesson, but things surrounding my section leader grow more mysterious – apparently he used to play football.

TheKat: I always thought drumming and sports didn't mix.

Setplayher: That was always my motto.

TheKat: So, you have a one-time jock in charge? That could be interesting.

Setplayher: I know. I've got to find out what went on there.

TheKat: Well, it sucks that you aren't here. I totally saw Tom Welling today when I was shopping.

Setplayher: Jealous!

TheKat: He was Super Cutie McCutes, but it would've been more fun if you were there.

Setplayher: Awww, thanks. Well, I hate to cut things short, but I am in desperate need of a shower. Talk later?

TheKat: You know it.


AN: It's a fluffy chapter, I know. Chalk it up to a bit of character development.

PS I'd also like to give a plug to my non-marching story, Take One at Mulholland High. I'd really appreciate anyone's thoughts on it!