A/N: Somewhere in this story, my younger sister yells out something that may sound like it's been censored, but it hasn't. To defend her honor to the judging masses, she actually said what is written, which is way funnier than a swear word. By the by, I'm looking for a brilliant May finish in time to present it to my soon to be graduated Band buddy. Anyway, here's Chapter Seven. Remember that reviewing makes a reader healthy, happy, and not in 13th place at Grand Nats. Semi Finals!

Invitational Emersion

I think I noticed the changes in the band as the season progressed. We were given the slips for the Comp Band trips to the BOA Regional in Arlington and the Super Regional in Atlanta. It was the crowning achievement of the 2007 season and would cost a mildly non-disturbing fee of three hundred dollars. What can I say, Mr. Gorham is a very, very good organizer. Metzger was the only one to not turn in hers. Unfortunately, the policy was, everyone turns one in, or no one goes. We stared at Mr. Gorhamin horror as he said that someone didn't turn one in, but he assured us we would still go. This incident did, however, led to her removal from Comp band and I had a rather strange conversation with Mr. Gorham immediately after all of that.

"Yes, you've got the spot." He said with his normal smile. He is a very kind and merciful band director/god, so it wasn't like the situation with Metzger came from spite. I understood it was something he had to do. But by that point, I was depressed that Metzger couldn't even come on the trip. Even though we fight occasionally, we were still friends, and it was sad, sad thing. Winning the spot turned out to heighten my nervous freshman super-senses to the point where I could have a nervous freshman breakdown at any point (I never actually did though.)

Yet despite my sadness, I knew it was time to get down to business. You could see it on everyone. The Seniors senior glow radiated through the band room as the student leading kicked in for the late blooming Seniors. But while they were amazing and half of them seemed like demy-gods, they weren't invincible like we all thought.

Amy, a pretty and cheerful Bass Clarinetist took ill during the season and missed some precious moments of her Senior year. And poor Grant would have to miss conducting his Senior Night Halftime show due to a kidney stone. Nearly every girl cried that night. But as life goes, we move on and recover.

We were hitting the middle of the season hard, trying to learn everything on time. Frustration was causing fatigue and laziness was causing even worse things. I can not tell you how unmotivated some of my friends felt going into the BOA Preview Owassohosted on still, warm day in September. The contest-type event went well, all the bands excited to be there. We picnicked outside of the high school with the out of town band kids, playing host.

And later that night, we were to take the field. It was new for all the Freshman. We stretched in our parking lot, but in uniform. We warmed up, in uniform. It was like a reversed Friday night football game. Then, came our special contest pep talk in which the question of our favorite color is always thrown out by Mr. Gorham, which is met by the all-too-eager bloodthirsty cry of "RED!!" After that, we lined up to march into the stadium.

As we were lined up, Mr. O'Kelly picked out his "kids" in the Freshman class and said little motivational things to them. He would come by once and mention a single phase about a deficiency we'd talked about In my marching. I would nod, trying to look intimidating, powerful and knowing at the same time. It probably looked more like I was in pain though. Then he'd come back and pat me on the back and say something inspiring. And then he'd start hugging random Freshman. And even though no one but me would ever say it, Mr. O'Kelly is part of the reason we ever felt like we did good, even on the bad days. He inspired us to keep going, or at least he inspired me. I was confident for the first time that night that I would nail set number 27's direction change or whatever. He believed in me, so I believed in me too.

So that night, we went out in exhibition. It wasn't the best performance of the show, but everyone seemed to think it was a start. All in all, the BOA performance was truly my wake up call.

But we had no time to relax after that, because the annual Owasso Invitational was the next weekend. The Owasso Invitational was a big deal for us. All the big schools came to compete. Everyone was supposed to be there. Bartlesville, Bixby, Stillwater, Union, and of course, BA. All the Band Students worked to help operate the massivemarching contest. I signed up to work concessions, because P.J. assured me it was fun, but productive, work. So early the following Saturday, I pulled up to the already buzzing campus. My shift still didn't start for some forty odd minutes. I pulled on my too-big invitational crew shirt, put on my named tag and headed for the ticket booths to hang out with the other early arrivals.

Cameron waved at me as I nearly got run down by a golf cart. I smiled at him and we started what had to be the longest conversation about Marching band competitions ever, all about Grand Nationals and L.D. Bell, our favorite to take the title from BA, in the upcoming championship. I also got the full picture on "Fowl Play" and the previous years show, "Bells and Whistles". But the best band gossip to go around that day was the show shirt.

Now, I'm a musician who doesn't really take to heart what outsiders think of my band or my choir, so it doesn't phase me when I hear assorted kids, teachers, and government employees say the band is a cult. But apparently, our shirts had to be redesigned because their was an accidental swastika imprinted on it. Just because the flute section has a Senior who really likes her World War II class doesn't mean were all Nazis! So as all the shouts of "Racist!" finally died down, I said goodbye and went off to start my shift.

At first, it was slow and grueling, like you waiting for some family of ten to come by and want hotdogs or something so you'd have an excuse to do something. Hmm. It's kind of nice to write down a truth that makes band kids look real good, but it's just that. We don't like to stand around all the time like normal teenagers. We want some action… just not the kind of action a normal teenager wants.

But eventually, it speed up and I was running apples through a corer, while taking orders, while handing someone a soda, while making some nachos. The two hours moved along quickly. Afterwards, I browsed the band patron run stands, bought a t-shirt and a color guard bandana and then went to check out the bands for a while. The looming threat of heading home to get my uniform was a real thorn in my side that day, so I called my mom to pick me up in the parking lot of the old Albertsons A.K.A., employee parking! I start out for the parking lot, watching the various bands warm up. As I cross the street, I feel the strange sensation of being watched. I turn around, expecting one of the guys had followed me on his way to McAllister's or something and planned to "surprise me" but instead, I was met withbright white and black uniforms. I walked faster. My mom pulled up as I watched the Grand National Champion band warm up, each member focused on winning at all costs. I could admire the feeling, I thought with a smile. I was taken from my dreams to the cries of my sister.

"Broken Arrow, what the fudge?!" Sara exclaimed, thinking we were supposed to be rehearsing today. At least seven heads turned at the noise and I hollered for my mom to drive and drive fast.

It turns out, my downtime turned into a nightmare when I had issues upon arrival with my uniform. But eventually, everything worked out and we all suited up in the good old multipurpose building. We mobbed into a tight wad near the stadium exit. Mr. Harris explained we were reaching the pivotal point in the season where the competitions were coming at us and we needed to focus. From there, the Senior Class kicked in. Grant, Ben, and Isaac really rallied support among the classes, smiling and explaining what we needed to do, what to focus on and to be confident. The other Seniors took turns. I think their was a little bit of crying, but it felt a little sad. I can only imagine how it felt to know it was your last Owasso Invitational.

Though rather than dwindle under the pressure of sadness for the strong and amazing Seniors, we went out, as Mr. Harris likes to call it, 'kicking tail and taking names'. The energy was there, it was a great hometown-y crowd and we were the last of the night. I remember thinking afterwards, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, we did it!!" Kristi jumped up and down and hugged me. We knew there were things to work on. We wouldn't be us if we thought there wasn't anything, but we took solace in the fact that the Pride of Owasso was ready to fight.

We all went up into the stands after wards to see the awards. At the Owasso Invitational, the drum lines come together to play a cadence as the competing bands march out to get the awards. But I hold the opinion to this day, that every band kid should dance to at least on cadence in their lifetime. You think you can't do it because you can't dance or you think you'll look stupid but truthfully, it's all just one big geeky party. You can barely tell a Drum Major from a Doubler at those times. We jumped across the stadium seats in rhythm, did strange dances, and chanted a lot. It was crazy and exciting and fun. Mr. Gorham simply shook his head and I almost could hear him say, 'Oh, sorry, my kids gotta hold of some Mountain Dew…' to some other parent.

The awards were slow and drawn out, just like any good marching contest, though I can't remember if the famous BOA quote was added in. You know it by heart. "But all of you are winners in life.' It never fails, honestly, that there is someone, in some band, at some competition, biting the inside of their cheek as that is being said, but you get the point. BA won, which was not surprising. We were scheduled to go to their invitational the following Saturday, which would be our first non-exhibition performance f the season. Word got around as we bounced up and down the bleachers. Apparently, everyone would be there, from as far away as Branson and it was a big deal just like ours. I had a feeling we were going to be okay as I left that night, if not just a little stressed the next week.

The next week turned out to really divide the straight up band kids and the Band/Choir hybrids. You saw All-District music lying in the band room, which was the District Honor Choir most of the hybrids, including me, loved and tried out for every single year. It happened to be on the same day as the BA Invitational this year. Apprehension wrenched my gut as I woke the next Saturday. My schedule included a early tryout, then across the way to the early morning practice, then bus over to BA for prelims, then bus back for extra crunch time rehearsal on the new sets, then bus back for finals. It was crazy, but I was feeling good as I tucked a few confused seventh grade sopranos under my wing at tryouts and got to see the Senior Band/Choir hybrids being their awesome selves. I felt confident in my tryout and made it to the rehearsal before mostly everyone. Everything ran smoothly, from the bus ride to BA, to the packed lunches, to the prelims. I had no idea how big their stadium was until I saw it. No wonder DCI made their stop there every year. It had an elevator! Prelims went fairly well, and the contest was very organized. I was especially happy for the little water cups we got before we went on the field. Their were tiny and refreshing, because I was hyperventilating J

I was nervous for results for both the honor choir and the finals and Melinda got sick and had to take her coat off. Or course Mr. Gorham allowed her to do that, so we were very concerned for our Section leader. The Section was bonding over small and big things like from getting our baldrics (shiny things that look like sashes… but more manly… that make mistakes more noticeable… but are really fun to put on.) to having an inner section pre-contest pep talk in which the Freshman were told they were doing good and the Seniors shared important advice.

We passed Prelims and went home to practice. That was the probably one of the best rehearsals all season. We were pumped up, it was a b-e-a-utiful day to be outside, and the directors were ready to get after it. We learned the end of the show that day and how to jazz-run for real. It was really hard not to bounce at first, but I was determined to get it right. "Part Three" was very different from the soft and slow "Part Two" and showcased some amazing woodwind soloist. Who but Mr. Gorham would make Bassoon players feel at home in the pit? The man is a genius.

We split rehearsal in half for snack time/drill writing time. Their was tons of snacks like bananas, crackers, Doritos, pretzels and cookies. It was really funny, especially to think of Mrs. Gorham buying all the food. The rehearsal was probably the fastest I had ever gone through as well. And through a relay race of cell phone calls, I found out on the bus back to BA I had made it into the honor choir. I remember happily telling my friends was that was all I needed to make it the perfect Band/Choir hybrid Saturday. That being only, if we won finals.

From there, we had the world famous "chicken chunks" for dinner outside in the parking lot. They were great, but what was better was everyone crowding to watch prelims on a tiny plasma screen hooked up to the instrument trailer, even when it had no sound. Then, we went out and did our thing. I remember lining up in class order for the awards, smiling and looking serious a lot, drinking my body weight in water, saving my plume and flute from getting weight but tucking them into my coat, and greeting the other bands as the winner.

Everyone was thrilled and we got to bring home a huge glass 'candy dish' home. It was really the prefect day…well almost. The only thing that burned us was our score. A lousy seventy-nine. I knew we had flaws, but that score frightened me. In three weeks time, the scene would be the Georgia dome. The mood was light on the way home, but a question lingered in everyone's brain, even after the great rehearsal and the great day. Will we be ready in time?