The bus ride was fairly uneventful. It was very noisy, since everyone was
catching up on gossip and who knows what else. After about fifteen minutes,
we turned onto a one-lane dirt road, rutted from years of use and poorly
maintained. The first stop was at the girls' cabin. We unloaded as quickly
as possible. I rushed in with approximately half of my things (Couldn't fit
in the aisles with all of it), and claimed my usual bunk before anyone else
could take it. I rushed back to get my pillow and backpack, deposited them
on my bunk, and made my way down to the main lodge where the equipment
truck awaited unloading. I climbed on to find that my way was obstructed by
about fifty music stands (we'd never brought those before) and a bunch of
pit equipment. As far as I knew, we had no pit this year. Oh well. It would
get used, maybe. I unloaded the truck, with help from Vin and a couple
others, and then hauled Jos's and my horns back to the girls' lodge.
We still had about an hour to settle in and hang out, so I broke out the food (strictly prohibited, but everyone brought food anyway) and we made a party of it. Monday at band camp is the best Monday of the year, except maybe the first one after school lets out for the summer. You wake up at nine-thirty in the morning, and realize that you don't have to go to school. It is a great feeling.
* * *
Mr. Calhoun appointed Jos and I, both members of the VLB (stands for "Very Low Brass"), section leaders. As I surveyed the section Tuesday afternoon on the field about an hour before dinner (my stomach was noisily reminding me), I counted five out of the nine of us that were new. Three were freshmen; two were juniors. We had three new trombones, a baritone and a baritone-turned-tuba player. I sighed, then reached into my backpack and found what I was looking for: a chocolate covered granola bar. They didn't have any normal ones at the K-Mart across from the school when I was shopping for band camp food, so they had to suffice. They were good, though. Better than the camp food, for sure.
"You remember, Jos, last year, the old dusty lodge, they actually served food there?" I asked, fondly remembering the turkey dinner they always served us for lunch on the last day, munching contentedly. Last year, the new mess hall, or whatever they wanted to call it (we were told basically to try NOT to make a mess there), was just getting started. They had completed it, and it was now in full operation. The old dusty lodge where we used to eat and do everything in was now used for everything but eating in. And the food just wasn't as good.
"Yeah. I remember. Hot dogs (though everyone knows they are really tube steaks trying to take over the world!) for the first meal, turkey dinner for the last meal, with all sorts of variety in between. I wonder what they're doing tonight."
"Dunno. Heard it was tacos, or something like that."
It was. The meat could have been much better seasoned. Vin, Jos, Becca, Lynn, Pooh, Pierce, and I all sat down at one of the glossy, spotless tables toward the back of the lodge after getting food.
"Hey, Pierce, where's Kalea?" asked Becca
"I don't know." We waited for her to come, but she never did show up. After dinner, Jos, Becca, Pooh, and I walked back to the lodge to find Kalea on her bunk, reading a book. "Where were you at dinner?" Jos asked.
"Wasn't hungry," was Kalea's reply.
"Oh."
* * *
That night, I got roped into a game of truth or dare. I never liked the game, being slightly modest and never eager to divulge personal information. Still, I reluctantly agreed to play.
"So, Lyssa: Truth or dare?" Pooh asked. I knew better than to pick dare. Once when I was at a sleepover when I was six or seven, I was dared to moon the neighbors. I steadfastly refused and another girl ended up completing the dare.
"Truth," I replied. Pooh looked unhappy. Obviously she had a great dare for me. Oh well. She could use it on someone else. Pooh was a senior like Becca, and Pooh really wasn't her real name. Her real name was Lyssa, like me, and that caused a bit of friendly rivalry between us (which sometimes resulted in bruises). After she completed high school, she planned to join the Army.
"Let me think for a minute . . . Okay, I have one for you: Who do you like in the marching band?"
A typical band camp truth-or-dare question. I got asked that my freshman year by one of the chaperones staying in the cabin that night. I never really gave an answer, though.
All of the girls stared at me. I looked around uncomfortably at them and blushed a little. A few started giggling. "I couldn't really say, to tell the truth . . . Well, there is that new drummer, Vin . . . but he is just nice. Probably the closest thing to actually liking someone in the band," I finished quickly.
Pooh thought I was going to answer, "Will, of course," and looked at me, shocked. "What happened to Will, Lyssa?"
"Two weeks ago, I called it off. He was being a jerk for most of the summer." By this time, the lodge was silent. "Umm, he wouldn't stop calling and I felt smothered, like he wasz stalking me, or something. He . . ." I broke off. I couldn't say anymore. Jos, who was sitting on my bunk with me, looked at me concernedly, hoping I was okay. She had heard this before in slightly more detail. It still hurt to think about it.
I was quiet for the rest of the night, deep in thought. Do I really like Vin? This is happening so fast after . . . what happened. After things went downhill with Will, I felt so alienated, so cut off from the world. I felt . . . alone. I talked with Jos afterwards, and that had helped. She had been through a similar relationship a couple of years back. Amazing, I thought, how people can feel like they are the only ones in the world going through this. But what surprised me was how quickly Vin's name popped into my head when Pooh asked me that question. I went to sleep troubled by that question.
* * *
I woke up at six-fifteen the next morning, feeling better, except that I was so congested it wasn't funny. Mold was growing in the cabin somewhere, undoubtedly. I put my glasses on and climbed out of my sleeping bag and down the ladder. A few other people were stirring. I walked across the sock- strewn floor, shivering in the predawn chill, wishing I had brought my fuzzy robe. I would have brought it, but I ran out of space in my duffel bag. I turned around and grabbed my polar fleece blanket, which was hanging half off my bed. I grabbed my bag with my hairbrush in it, once I remembered I had forgotten that, too. I shuffled into the bathroom and pulled my hair back, shuffled out, grabbed some clothes, shuffled back into the bathroom, which was getting nicely warm and humid (ahh, my nose cleared up some) thanks to a few other girls getting their showers (I had gotten mine the night before), changed, and shuffled out again. A few lights were on when I came back out, and most of the girls were up. I climbed back into my bunk and looked at my watch. 6:30. Breakfast at seven-thirty. Plenty of time to do . . . something. I poked around until I found my book and read a little until I heard Jos's voice carry over from the other side of the lodge. I put down my book, climbed down, and wandered over.
"'Mornin'," I muttered. My voice was thick from congestion. Great.
"Hello," said Jos. She was pulling on a pair of pants. It was supposed to get up to seventy-five degrees; how does that girl stay cool?
6:45. "Fifteen minutes, and we can head down for breakfast."
"It's not 'till seven-thirty," Jos complained.
"If you want to get a good place in line, we had better head down about seven." She couldn't argue. We were sharing the camp this year with a couple other groups, and the lines got very long, even with the staggered lunch times.
We waited for Becca, Pooh, and Kalea to get ready and we headed down as a group, with the omnipresent freshmen tagging along behind us. The freshmen tended to idolize the upperclassmen. Don't ask why; they just do. I was a freshman once myself, and did the same thing, though I don't know why.
We reached the main lodge, and found several other people from the band already hanging out there.
"Morning!" I called happily. I had woken up in the chill and found that I was in a good mood.
They all responded. Vin and Pierce walked over and joined us. "How ya doin'?" I asked Vin.
"Tired, but good. The guys were up last night pranking each other."
"Typical." I had heard horror stories from the guys about what went on in that lodge. People would get saran-wrapped to their beds, toilet papered, and shaving-creamed, all at once. "You didn't get 'got,' did you, Vin?"
"Nah. I participated," he replied with a devilish twinkle in his eye. "We got Ryan, the senior in your section, so good that when he woke up this morning, he couldn't move an inch! I think he should be out by now. I think some of the other guys got Will, that weird clarinet player."
I smiled inwardly. Sucks for him. We walked for a while, and then the doors to the new lodge opened. "Vin, breakfast is ready!"
We went off to breakfast, and got ready for the day.
We still had about an hour to settle in and hang out, so I broke out the food (strictly prohibited, but everyone brought food anyway) and we made a party of it. Monday at band camp is the best Monday of the year, except maybe the first one after school lets out for the summer. You wake up at nine-thirty in the morning, and realize that you don't have to go to school. It is a great feeling.
* * *
Mr. Calhoun appointed Jos and I, both members of the VLB (stands for "Very Low Brass"), section leaders. As I surveyed the section Tuesday afternoon on the field about an hour before dinner (my stomach was noisily reminding me), I counted five out of the nine of us that were new. Three were freshmen; two were juniors. We had three new trombones, a baritone and a baritone-turned-tuba player. I sighed, then reached into my backpack and found what I was looking for: a chocolate covered granola bar. They didn't have any normal ones at the K-Mart across from the school when I was shopping for band camp food, so they had to suffice. They were good, though. Better than the camp food, for sure.
"You remember, Jos, last year, the old dusty lodge, they actually served food there?" I asked, fondly remembering the turkey dinner they always served us for lunch on the last day, munching contentedly. Last year, the new mess hall, or whatever they wanted to call it (we were told basically to try NOT to make a mess there), was just getting started. They had completed it, and it was now in full operation. The old dusty lodge where we used to eat and do everything in was now used for everything but eating in. And the food just wasn't as good.
"Yeah. I remember. Hot dogs (though everyone knows they are really tube steaks trying to take over the world!) for the first meal, turkey dinner for the last meal, with all sorts of variety in between. I wonder what they're doing tonight."
"Dunno. Heard it was tacos, or something like that."
It was. The meat could have been much better seasoned. Vin, Jos, Becca, Lynn, Pooh, Pierce, and I all sat down at one of the glossy, spotless tables toward the back of the lodge after getting food.
"Hey, Pierce, where's Kalea?" asked Becca
"I don't know." We waited for her to come, but she never did show up. After dinner, Jos, Becca, Pooh, and I walked back to the lodge to find Kalea on her bunk, reading a book. "Where were you at dinner?" Jos asked.
"Wasn't hungry," was Kalea's reply.
"Oh."
* * *
That night, I got roped into a game of truth or dare. I never liked the game, being slightly modest and never eager to divulge personal information. Still, I reluctantly agreed to play.
"So, Lyssa: Truth or dare?" Pooh asked. I knew better than to pick dare. Once when I was at a sleepover when I was six or seven, I was dared to moon the neighbors. I steadfastly refused and another girl ended up completing the dare.
"Truth," I replied. Pooh looked unhappy. Obviously she had a great dare for me. Oh well. She could use it on someone else. Pooh was a senior like Becca, and Pooh really wasn't her real name. Her real name was Lyssa, like me, and that caused a bit of friendly rivalry between us (which sometimes resulted in bruises). After she completed high school, she planned to join the Army.
"Let me think for a minute . . . Okay, I have one for you: Who do you like in the marching band?"
A typical band camp truth-or-dare question. I got asked that my freshman year by one of the chaperones staying in the cabin that night. I never really gave an answer, though.
All of the girls stared at me. I looked around uncomfortably at them and blushed a little. A few started giggling. "I couldn't really say, to tell the truth . . . Well, there is that new drummer, Vin . . . but he is just nice. Probably the closest thing to actually liking someone in the band," I finished quickly.
Pooh thought I was going to answer, "Will, of course," and looked at me, shocked. "What happened to Will, Lyssa?"
"Two weeks ago, I called it off. He was being a jerk for most of the summer." By this time, the lodge was silent. "Umm, he wouldn't stop calling and I felt smothered, like he wasz stalking me, or something. He . . ." I broke off. I couldn't say anymore. Jos, who was sitting on my bunk with me, looked at me concernedly, hoping I was okay. She had heard this before in slightly more detail. It still hurt to think about it.
I was quiet for the rest of the night, deep in thought. Do I really like Vin? This is happening so fast after . . . what happened. After things went downhill with Will, I felt so alienated, so cut off from the world. I felt . . . alone. I talked with Jos afterwards, and that had helped. She had been through a similar relationship a couple of years back. Amazing, I thought, how people can feel like they are the only ones in the world going through this. But what surprised me was how quickly Vin's name popped into my head when Pooh asked me that question. I went to sleep troubled by that question.
* * *
I woke up at six-fifteen the next morning, feeling better, except that I was so congested it wasn't funny. Mold was growing in the cabin somewhere, undoubtedly. I put my glasses on and climbed out of my sleeping bag and down the ladder. A few other people were stirring. I walked across the sock- strewn floor, shivering in the predawn chill, wishing I had brought my fuzzy robe. I would have brought it, but I ran out of space in my duffel bag. I turned around and grabbed my polar fleece blanket, which was hanging half off my bed. I grabbed my bag with my hairbrush in it, once I remembered I had forgotten that, too. I shuffled into the bathroom and pulled my hair back, shuffled out, grabbed some clothes, shuffled back into the bathroom, which was getting nicely warm and humid (ahh, my nose cleared up some) thanks to a few other girls getting their showers (I had gotten mine the night before), changed, and shuffled out again. A few lights were on when I came back out, and most of the girls were up. I climbed back into my bunk and looked at my watch. 6:30. Breakfast at seven-thirty. Plenty of time to do . . . something. I poked around until I found my book and read a little until I heard Jos's voice carry over from the other side of the lodge. I put down my book, climbed down, and wandered over.
"'Mornin'," I muttered. My voice was thick from congestion. Great.
"Hello," said Jos. She was pulling on a pair of pants. It was supposed to get up to seventy-five degrees; how does that girl stay cool?
6:45. "Fifteen minutes, and we can head down for breakfast."
"It's not 'till seven-thirty," Jos complained.
"If you want to get a good place in line, we had better head down about seven." She couldn't argue. We were sharing the camp this year with a couple other groups, and the lines got very long, even with the staggered lunch times.
We waited for Becca, Pooh, and Kalea to get ready and we headed down as a group, with the omnipresent freshmen tagging along behind us. The freshmen tended to idolize the upperclassmen. Don't ask why; they just do. I was a freshman once myself, and did the same thing, though I don't know why.
We reached the main lodge, and found several other people from the band already hanging out there.
"Morning!" I called happily. I had woken up in the chill and found that I was in a good mood.
They all responded. Vin and Pierce walked over and joined us. "How ya doin'?" I asked Vin.
"Tired, but good. The guys were up last night pranking each other."
"Typical." I had heard horror stories from the guys about what went on in that lodge. People would get saran-wrapped to their beds, toilet papered, and shaving-creamed, all at once. "You didn't get 'got,' did you, Vin?"
"Nah. I participated," he replied with a devilish twinkle in his eye. "We got Ryan, the senior in your section, so good that when he woke up this morning, he couldn't move an inch! I think he should be out by now. I think some of the other guys got Will, that weird clarinet player."
I smiled inwardly. Sucks for him. We walked for a while, and then the doors to the new lodge opened. "Vin, breakfast is ready!"
We went off to breakfast, and got ready for the day.