Disclaimer: The only thing I own here is Melody. And the plot line.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to our own dark-haired drummer, whose name shall not be mentioned here.

Warning: Severe marching band terminology ahead! I am an uber band geek and, well, it shows. If you need explanation of any word or phrase, don't hesitate to ask.

This Band

The first time I saw him, I thought he was a girl. A skeleton-skinny, broad-shouldered, curveless girl, but a girl nonetheless. And then he turned around.

His piercing dark eyes matched his hair and seemed to dissect my every pretense. That one glance convinced me that he saw me exactly as I was- twelve years old, a runaway, a street kid, a thief. A pretender. And yet, he seemed to take no notice of me.

Half sad and half relieved, I got on with the first day of band camp. My section leader gave me my new baritone, the first one I had seen since leaving home. To be honest, it was probably the only thing from back there that I missed. The cool, solid weight grounded me, allowing me to forget about the dark-haired drummer and follow the assistant drum major (a fellow baritone player) to our seats.

The morning was easy enough- scales and rhythms, which told me that as far as freshmen went, I was an anomaly. The rest of them were struggling. I was bored. The assistant drum major, whose name was Thomas, seemed impressed, and he kept me in at lunch to see what I could do. Frankly, I relished the challenge. First it was range stuff- from low B flat down, chromatically, in slow half notes, and back up the same way we had come, as high as I could. He seemed surprised at how evenly matched we were. I stayed with him up to a high B natural, but the C evaded me. Thomas took almost all of the lunch hour to test me, not that I minded. I had no food and was in no mood to socialize. So we stayed in, working 2-octave chromatic 16th notes with a metronome. We did long tones, volume, anything and everything until he saw the time and decided that it was time for him to go fulfill his assistant drum major-ly duties.

Ten minutes later we were all out on the football field for the 'marching' part of marching band. Stretches, pushups, wall-sits, and running were led by the drum major and assistant. After we had had a break, they gathered us up and went over our style of marching. Basically, you roll your feet so your upper body moves smoothly and your airstream is not affected. It made sense. We then had ten minutes with our sections to go over forward 8 to 5 (8 steps for every 5 yards) marching and marking time (pretty much just marching in place), and then we were called back. Thomas and the drum major, Miguel, spaced us out by walking off the distance (intervals) between the rows (ranks) and columns (files). This was our first experience in what would become one of our most familiar formations, the grid block. Your placement in the block was determined by section- flutes in front, then clarinets, saxophones, trumpets, mellophones, and miscellaneous low brass (tubas, trombones, and baritones), myself included. And then, surprise surprise, guess who's next? The drummers. He was there, two rows back but often closer to help out the brand-new bass drummers in a much more kindly manner than the drum captain, who was short and spastic and liked to give pushups.

The day wore on. The sun got hotter, the exercises got more complex, and we, eventually, got breaks. And during those breaks, we socialized. Yes, by "we" I am including myself. To my dismay, I learned that band guys in general are far too sexual for their own good. During the course of the afternoon, I had several guys come up to me and attempt to flirt. I guess I'm okay-looking for a twelve year old pretending to be fourteen. It was fortunate for me that I had hit puberty early. It helped me fit in with the older students, but now it was a nuisance that I quickly tired of.

I decided to do something about it. I felt a little sorry for the poor guy who came up to "introduce himself".

"Hey, what's up? I'm Aaron," he announced arrogantly. It would have been nothing if he hadn't been blatantly staring at my chest the entire time. I said nothing, did nothing except stare straight at him and wait for him to notice. Eventually he realized that something was going on and looked up. I could see the confusion in his blandly handsome face, but to his credit he managed to withstand my glare for at least a couple of seconds before his eyes fell in embarrassment.

"Katy Lewis," I said, holding out my hand, which he shook. I released him, then pointed to my face with both hands. "I'm up here," my hands moved to my chest, "not down here." I smiled slightly as he flushed bright red.

"Aaron Wilson, bass drummer. You a freshman too?"

"Yeah. Baritone."

"That's the big trumpet thing, right?"

"Close enough."

The week went by more quickly than I thought possible. It seemed like the next thing I knew, we were at the pool marking the halfway point in band camp. The entire band was there, us and no one else- no instructors, no parents, no lifeguards. This was vital, as Miguel was about to make the traditional speech that would inaugurate the new freshmen as official band members.

I felt an incredible sense of belonging as I sat there on the pool deck with Aaron and another new friend, a sophomore named Sara. Each one of us stared silently up at our portly Mexican drum major as he began to speak.

"This is the halfway point, guys," he began. "I would like to congratulate those of you that have made it this far. Several of your classmates have dropped out over the course of this week, with a little help from the first week of Grove High School's band camp, which is harder than most college bands' or drum corps'. You have stayed with us, and therefore have proven your worth as band members." He stopped for a second to let us drink in his words. "Right now you guys' families are all back at the band room, eating food and waiting around for you to get back. Not anymore. This Band is now your extended family, as any other band would be, but by the end of this week each of you will have a new family. The tradition of adoption goes back dozens of years, before any of you were born. Each senior here was adopted, as you will be. They lead the current generation here, but their family members go back to the graduating class of 1973, the first sophomores to adopt incoming freshmen. And now, every year during the second week of band camp, the families get together and make their decision about which freshman belongs where. I'll admit it, every year there's one or two freshmen that outstrip the rest, but that doesn't mean the rest of you are wanted any less because of it. And believe me, you'll know when someone wants to adopt you, just like you know when someone's "interested", if you know what I mean. And remember guys, it's first come first serve, so don't try and wait till the last second to speak for someone, it'll be too late." He paused again, as though he was trying to remember something, then shrugged his shoulders to dismiss the thought. "All right guys," he announced in his loud I-have-something-to-say voice, and we all thought he was about to let us go.

All of a sudden his facial expression, posture, and tone of voice underwent a complete change.

"Band 'ten hut!" he barked. Every one of us scrambled to our feet and locked into the now-familiar position of attention: head up, eyes front, shoulders down and relaxed, back straight, hips back, legs straight but not locked, feet together. "You are the best of the best- we are the best of the best. If we are small, it is only because so few people are good enough for us. If you are here, it is because you deserve to be here, because we know beyond any doubt that you will do whatever it takes, give whatever you have to give to This Band, that you love This Band and This Band loves you, that you are pledging yourself mind body and soul to This Band. This Band will always be with you; committing to This Band is the most serious commitment you will ever make- more permanent than any tattoo, more binding than any legal document, more intimate than any marriage. And if right now you're thinking dude, you're way too intense about all this crap, then you shouldn't be here, 'cause we can't have you unless you want it with your whole being, so if that's what's going through your head you better speak up or you can hold your freaking peace until you graduate, 'cause there's no getting out of it after today."

There was utter silence as the sun sank down behind Miguel's shoulders, making him and the band he represented seem far larger than life.

"This silence is your oath. Your promise that over these next four months when This Band starts wanting more and more from you until it wants everything you have, you're going to give it what it wants and then keep giving, when you've got nothing left to give and you're fueled solely by your bandmates' support and your pure love for This Band. That you're going to comply with every rule and follow every tradition without complaining. That you're going to follow every order you're given whether you agree with it or not. And I'm gonna tell you right now, there's going to be some tough spots along the way. It's not easy, it's not all fun. There's gonna betimes when you're tired and sick and hungry and miserable and overheated and in pain. But you know what? I promise you, if you give all of your best to This Band, it's gonna give it back to you when you need it the most- when you don't think you can go on anymore and you just want to give up on whatever it is, you give yourself over to This Band and let it push you through and I promise you, it will never let you down.

This Band… will always be there for you. It's more loving than any parent, more faithful than any lover, more loyal than any dog, more trustworthy than any friend, more constant than k, more incredible than anything else you will ever experience."

"This is what you guys are a part of."

Each band member heard the finality in Miguel's voice and knew without a doubt that this was the end. Fifty-something faces stared steadily forward, discipline holding them motionless but unable to stop the tears that streaked several cheeks.

"Band Dismissed!"

The dismissal ritual was committed with even more than the normal amount of zeal as every suppressed emotion poured out of us in an emphatic, thunderous "Huh!"

The spell broke and we all scattered, stripping down to bathing suits and jumping into the clear water.

I was hanging back to remove my shoes when I saw it. One drummer tackled another, sending them both hurtling into the pool with an enormous splash. It was meant in fun, but I knew something had gone wrong by the resultant thrashing and eruption of bubbles from under the water. One drummer, the instigator, emerged dripping but unscathed and hauled himself out of the pool. There was no sign of his hapless victim, and my years of lifeguarding emerged. All of a sudden I was streaking across the pool deck in my borrowed bathing suit, diving into 13 feet of water.

He was a motionless, skeletal figure in black swim trunks- Danny the tenor player, AKA the dark-haired drummer.

There was no time. He had inhaled water and I had approximately two minutes to get him breathing. I secured my arms around his too-prominent rib cage and pushed off the bottom. He was fighting weakly, which at least meant that he was still alive, and I kicked up to the surface. Several willing volunteers (including the horrified and guilt-wracked instigator) pulled him out of the water and I followed, instructing them to call 911 as I began emergency CPR on the now unconscious boy. My hands on his bare chest, my mouth pressed against his in a grim parody of passion as I forced air in and water out. The process seemed to take hours but in reality it was probably only minutes before he convulsed weakly, spitting up water. I turned him on his side just as I had done to another countless times before (in drastically different circumstances, as these were not self-induced). I knelt by his side as he struggled to expel the water that had nearly killed him when he reflexively breathed in upon impact with his assailant.

He was still hacking when the EMTs arrived, but there was considerably less fluid and more air involved, so he seemed to be at least mostly out of danger. Still, they laid him on a stretcher and gave him a thorough examination before pronouncing him "safe" and congratulating me on my quick response. And then they were gone and things slowly went back to normal.

Nick, the drummer who had started it all, came up to Danny to apologize. He also thanked me for not allowing his stupidity to turn into a tragedy. The two of us were the band's newest celebrities, but I wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. It was safer that way. But eventually the adrenaline wore off and everyone went back to having a good time.

That left me and Danny. I wanted to talk to him, just for a second, make sure he's doing all right. I didn't even expect him to know who I was, but that's okay. It's safer that way.

What I wasn't expecting was this:

"Hey... Danny?"

"Hey."

"Um, I don't know if you know who I am but-"

His voice was mock-stern. "How could I not know who you are? I owe you my life, and don't you dare deny it."

And then he smiled at me, that amazing smile that I will never forget; and from that moment on I was lost. Every carefully erected barrier, every denial, all the avoidance, it was all worth nothing. I fell hard, and the hardest part of it all was hiding it. But I had to, because at the end of the week he became my family, the only thing I had in the world, and I knew that I could never risk that bond. Not for anything.

I was like a storybook character, the girl in love with her best friend but unable to tell him. Except that the stories always end with him professing his love for her and the two of them riding off into the sunset or some such nonsense. And I knew that I would never have that happy ending. Happy endings belong in happy stories. My life? Not so much.

To My Reviewers:

daxy: Thanks so much! I hope this chapter wasn't a cop-out.

TJ: Glad you liked! Hope no one kills me for skipping out on the second half of that last chapter. Complications, thy name is Danny.

JauntyChick: Oh man, you have no idea how relieved I am... I totally thought that chapter was going to get some major flames.

LSG: Thanks! It's awesome that you two are so close, I sometimes wish that my sister and I could have that kind of a relationship. But our personalities just clash way too much.

To Everyone Else:

Please review! I welcome your questions, comments, suggestions, whatever. Keep bugging me to update, my ADD is not conducive to any sort of continuity.