Disclaimer: I don't own this chapter. I gave my notebook with this story to Shewhodanceswithdragons and said 'write it.' That said, I do own Jake and Jill.


Band camp. Any veteran band geek knows it's always best to arrive at least a half hour early and well-hydrated, with plenty of sunscreen lathered on.

It makes it easy to pick out the rookies…

"All right, guys, grab your drill, stuff it, grab chalk, and water and-" the band director was interrupted by Jake staggering into the band room, clutching a coke in one hand and a candy bar in the other. All eyes turned to glare.

"Jake." The band director might have sounded calm to those new to the band, but the veterans shrank back from his wrath. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Uh…9:10?" He guessed.

"9:12. Everyone else was here before quarter of nine. I know your section leaders called to remind you, so what's your excuse?"

"Umm…I overslept?"

"Inexcusable. You will give me ten pushups for every minute late, so that's two hundred and seventy pushups you owe me, right now. You will give me half that amount before any break you get today. Am I clear?"

"Whatever."

"That is not an acceptable answer. You will call me 'Sir' until I decide you are fit enough to call me 'G!' Now drop and give me 270."

To Jake, being the mighty football player that he was, 270 pushups was nothing. As he began, however, he felt something large and furry get on top of him. His cheeks burned with shame as the entire band laughed at him, doing pushups while the director's dog sat on top of him. He glanced up only once, in which he saw Emma leaning against her boyfriend as they started drill, both laughing at his humiliation.

The shame turned to rage as he continued his punishment.

********

As the hot sun beat down upon the parking lot, most kids kept comfortable. Through experience, whether it was their own or an upperclassman's, they wore sneakers, shorts that didn't chafe, light T-shirts or tank-tops, a hat, and plenty of sunscreen.

Jake, on the other hand…

"Whassa matter, Jaky boy? Cant' handle the heat?"

Jake squinted up from where he had collapsed on the hill at Devon, section leader of the trombones and Emma's boyfriend.

"Go way," he grunted. He really hadn't pup the weather forecast in mind when he dressed in flip-flops, jeans, and a black sweatshirt.

"Now is that any way to speak to an upperclassman? I should make you do pushups, but you're going to be sore enough as is tomorrow."

"Did Emma send you over here to hasten my slow death?"

Both looked over to where Emma, looking cool and collected in blue boxers, gray tank-top, and a high ponytail chatted with some flutes.

"No, I'm just here to warn you. I saw how you tried to trip her, and if I see or hear off any other "incidents" there's going to be trouble. Got it?"

Devon might have been an inch or so shorter than Emma, and at least three inches shorter than Jake, but at that moment, he seemed to tower, over him. Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and started to walk towards Emma.

"Whipped…"

Faster than you could say "Kill Dr. Beat," he whipped around and barked out, "Twenty pushups, one-armed, NOW!"

Grudgingly, Jake rolled over to do them, but wasn't prepared for the sudden weight of a leaping golden retriever and collapsed amongst a sea of laughter, most of it coming from the group Devon had just joined.

He had a feeling his cheeks would be permanently red by the end of band camp...