Vin and I walked out of the breakfast hall and into the parking area just
outside. Today was Wednesday. The dance was tonight. I looked at Vin, who
was walking beside me. Today he was wearing blue denim shorts and a white t-
shirt proclaiming, "Drumline." His hair was hidden under a black baseball
cap.
He excused himself, saying that he needed to get something from his lodge. I had everything I needed for the field work this morning: water, duct tape, horn, etc, so I had no need to go back to my lodge, which was about 500 yards away from the food lodges. Duct tape is an essential part of a marching band person's life. It can fix instruments, teach people how to roll step, annoy people, be used to bribe or threaten with, shut people up, or in extreme cases, "force" someone to leave you alone (Bwa ha ha!). Duct tape is very good.
I watched his retreating form, and jumped when Jos suddenly elbowed me and whispered in my ear, "Oh, he's just a nice guy, eh? I think someone likes Vin!"
"No, he's just a friend!" I exclaimed. Was he? Or was he actually more than a friend?
"Ooh, someone's blushing again! You're so cute when you do that!" she replied, mischief written on every line of her face. I rubbed my face.
Vin returned a few minutes later with his drumsticks and began tinkering with the quints he was assigned. All of a sudden, he jumped into a complicated and demanding routine. The area got silent. His sticks were flying across the drums, and he didn't miss a single hit. I stood, amazed at the wall of rhythm and sound. He finished and looked around at the intrigued faces. A few people began applauding. He was really very talented. Wow. I thought, Okay, so he's talented. Yeah. I tried to deny any sort of, umm, interest in Vin. I told myself firmly that he was just a friend.
"Hey, Vin, that was great!" I said.
"Thanks! Umm, hey, what are do we doing this evening?" he asked, changing the subject.
"It's Wednesday, so there will be a dance tonight. That and Lip Sync Night are my personal favorites. Between the two, I couldn't decide." We always had a barrage of evening activities. Monday we had a sort of "Get to know everyone" game, and Tuesday we were separated into groups, and each group was given a crate with some props. The object was to come up with a skit using those. I ended up in a group with Thor, and he became "E.T, Gone Wrong," in which he was had the crate upended on his head, and he got to crazy and "kill" the "scientific convention" coming to see him. His younger sister, Larna, was in our group as well, and pretended to kick him (not quite in the plan, but it was great) because he refused to "die" fast enough. It was hilarious.
"Cool. Can we bring CDs for the dance?"
"Yeah. That's the only way we get music." I smiled at him, and heard someone clapping as if to call us up. I glanced over, and saw that it was one of the freshmen. Figures. That was a favorite pastime for every freshman class. Clap like you are going to call up the band, and see how many people look over. I looked back at Vin and rolled my eyes. "Freshmen."
"Ah."
"BAND ATTEN HUT!" Thor roared.
"HUT-J!" the band yelled. Half of the band remembered to say "F-J," the other half, well . . . All was still and silent in the area, until Thor broke the silence.
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO SAY 'F-J'!" yelled Thor. The attention reply had been changed from "Hut" to "F-J," for Frederick Jennings High School, the name of our school. Jennings was our first superintendent, back in the twenties, probably when it was nameless, or something. Jennings was some sort of legend nowadays, though no one really knows why.
I rolled my eyes. It was going to take a while to make that habit. Thor proceeded to tell us to line up so we could march out to the field.
* * *
Practice was uneventful. Our staff (other than Mr. Calhoun), Miss Cathorn (the brass instructor), Mr. Chapman (the drum instructor, who also worked for Pepsi and both of whom were new this year), and Carla, the color guard instructor, were there. Carla was our guard person last year. She was cool. I didn't really have an opinion of Cathorn and Chapman yet.
At lunch, the bunch of us grouped together again to talk. Once again, we were having Mexican style food. Nachos.
I picked through the fried rice (smelled good, however tasted rather bland) on my tray and said, "We're doing music this afternoon, right?"
"Yep," said Becca. "Looks like sectionals again."
I groaned inwardly. I wanted a full band rehearsal. Sectionals meant the VLB was lumped in with the trumpets, and Miss Cathorn would alternate between the sections. It got very boring. Much more would get done with a full rehearsal, anyway.
So, after lunch, the VLB met outside to start off sectionals. They were having some trouble with the music (it was not easy at all this year, which kind of comes with the whole not having a lot of choice for shows this year), so I found Miss Cathorn and asked for her help. She disappeared for a brief time, and then called us over to a patch of ground, where the trumpets were congregated. I leaned over to Jos and asked her, "Didn't I ask for some help with music, not to join the trumpets for a communal rehearsal?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Maybe she thinks there are rhythms that both groups have, and she doesn't want to spend the time teaching both groups separately, or something."
"Maybe," she replied, and we told the section to head over to where Cathorn was waiting, a little on the impatient side.
We spent maybe a half-hour plugging through music (with little success), and then Cathorn, rather disgusted, gave us a ten-minute break when people began getting restless. Little really happened, I thought. I looked across the way at some trumpets, who were looking at a music stand and giggling. Curiosity got the better of me and I wandered over to look.
Figures. A couple of ladybugs had landed on the music stand and were busy chasing each other around. They looked like little racecars on an ever- changing track. It was actually very funny.
"What's going on over here? Dan gave us a break," a familiar voice said behind me. I turned around and saw Vin. Dan was Chapman's first name. "Ha, a couple of ladybugs, chasin' each other around the music stand." I said happily. "It's a common trait for the band people here to be entertained by rather dumb things."
"Ah, it's kinda the same everywhere," he replied. Miss Cathorn ambled over, curious about the commotion. She saw what we were watching and walked away disdainfully. I watched her leave. I really was beginning to not like her. She struck a few . . . bad chords with me, so to speak. Jos came over with a plastic cup full of water from the cooler (the camp water was heavy in iron, so it tasted bad), looked at the music stand, and walked away, shaking her head and smiling.
That was about the most exciting event of the afternoon.
* * *
Dinner was done and over with, and everyone was given an hour to get ready for the dance. Some of the girls hit the showers, since the temperature skyrocketed to eighty-five instead of seventy-five like the forecast had said Monday morning. Ah well, good ol' unpredictable Michigan weather. Gotta love it.
Not wanting to go to the dance with wet hair (I don't bother with hair dryers) I just changed into a light blue tank top, khaki shorts and topped that off with a short-sleeve white button-up that I didn't dare wear without something under it (it was more on the, um, semitranslucent side). I went into the bathroom and pulled the upper layers of my hair into a ponytail, leaving the lower layers down. Usually all of my hair stays back.
I read my book for a while, and checked my watch. Seven-thirty. I craned my head around the corner (I take my usual bunk every year for good reason: I don't have to get down to look around the corner to the other side) and yelled to Jos on the other side, "You ready yet?"
"Yeah, just a sec!" she replied. I climbed down from my bunk and pulled on my pair of Merrell sandals. I loved those things, and I also had no need to wear socks with them. Socks in warm weather like this should be made illegal. She appeared around the corner. "Wow, Lyssa!" she exclaimed, noting my appearance. "Trying to impress someone, are we?" She smiled knowingly. I glared at her. Usually I wore just t-shirts and shorts, nothing really preppy or necessarily stylish even, so this was dressing up for me.
"No, I just felt like dressing up a little." Avoiding her eyes, I reached up into my bunk and grabbed my camera. "I almost forgot this." I picked up my CDs from the floor where I had put them earlier in the day and we set out for the old lodge, where Pierce was setting up the sound system.
"Hey, Pierce. Kalea will be along in a moment," I said as we walked in. He looked at me and smiled, acknowledging me.
Vin was there already, wearing the khaki shorts and a Hawaiian-patterned button-up shirt, mainly navy blue in color, and a pair of Teva sandals. I had a pair of Tevas once, but I wore them out after a couple of years of using them to scramble around the rocks on our beach in the summer. Much fun, that was . . .
I waved at him, and he grinned back.
Suddenly, loud rock music poured out of the speakers in front. A large group of marchers walked in and began dancing. The dance had begun! It was about eight o'clock. Right on schedule. I stood off to the side with Kalea, Jos, Vin, and Becca. Pierce was still running the sound system. We stood and talked for a while, and then, of all things, the Chicken Dance came on. Jos dragged everyone out onto the dance floor and made us go through the motions. It was funny to watch everyone dance and laugh at everyone else at the same time.
The song ended, to everyone's relief, and more normal songs came on. Pierce joined us. A few songs later, a slow song came on. Pierce led Kalea away, and Jos and I exchanged knowing smiles. I spotted them slow dancing and raised my camera. Ha ha. I pointed, and shot the picture. A flash of light filled the room, and Kalea glared at me. She wasn't mad, though. After the song was over, she came over and threatened to DE-stroy my camera, but I just grinned and let her threaten doom to all. She subsided and laughed, then made me promise to show her the picture when I got it developed. I agreed with a smile.
We hung out for the first half of the dance, snacking on the food the camp staff put out. Another slow song came on, and Will appeared out of nowhere. I tired to ignore him, but he planted himself in front of me and whined, "Lyssa, please. Give me one more chance. Just dance with me, please!"
I looked at him, disgusted. He tried to contort his features into a look of compassion, but instead he looked like a desperate fool. "No, Will," I said, looking him in the eye. "I have given you enough chances, and you have only taken advantage of my patience, tolerance, and extreme allowances. I have had enough of that-"
He interrupted me. "Just give me one more chance! I can improve-"
"NO! I am SO glad you're a senior, because I don't have to put up with you next year!" I turned and walked away, leaving him shocked and watching me. I decided never to speak to him again, even upon the pain of death. I walked out the door and sat outside on the porch, fighting the emotional reaction that commonly followed these outbursts. I looked around me at the fireflies dancing in the air, and the bright stars. It was beautiful. I loved it when Nature gave displays like that. After a couple of minutes of watching and letting go of my mind, I had calmed down. Someone sat down beside me and put a comforting arm around me. I jumped, coming suddenly out of my wanderings.
"Sorry . . . you all right?" Vin asked, concerned.
"Yeah, I'm okay, I think. W-Will and I broke up a couple of weeks ago, and I guess both of us are still trying to get over it. I got disgusted with him . . . he thinks he can get me back, but it's not happening . . . I gave him too many chances . . ." I broke off. Why was I spilling this to someone I barely knew?
Vin's arm tightened around me. He was so close . . .
"Jos is telling him off right now. We should go back inside and enjoy the rest of the dance." We walked slowly back to the door. I cast one glance back toward the fireflies and the splendor behind me. "I-It's beautiful out tonight."
"Yeah, it sure is," he replied. He sounded genuine. Another thing we had in common . . .
We walked back inside to see Will slink away from Jos. People began staring at us. Jos spotted us and grinned. Sensing my discomfort, Vin let go. I regretted that, but I didn't want rumors starting.
Jos ran over, grabbed Vin, and dragged him away. I rejoined the others and sat down in an empty chair. They didn't really say anything. A minute or two later, Jos, mischief written on every line of her face, reappeared with Vin behind her, looking a little embarrassed. He sat next to me, looking uncomfortable, and when another slow song started, Vin asked suddenly, "Yawannadancewithme?" making it all one word. I looked at his crimson face, and replied, "Sure!"
He took my hands in his and led me out onto the dance floor.
* * *
I climbed onto my bunk and sighed passionately. Vin and I had danced for the rest of the evening, and afterward stood and looked at the stars before heading off to our respective bunks. I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and let down my hair in a slight daze. I went back to my bunk and climbed into my sleeping bag. I found my book and opened it up to the page I had marked. Several minutes later, a grinning face poked up over my open book. I had then realized that I had not really been reading, just staring at the page, lost in thought. I looked up. It was Jos. She climbed the rest of the way into my bunk and sat on my legs. "You should have seen the look on your face!" I smiled at her and said nothing. "You're blushing," she said suddenly.
"So?" I tried to be annoyed, but it wasn't working. I was in too good a mood. After a couple of minutes, Jos left and headed back over to her bunk to listen to her favorite Japanese pop CD and read the latest Superman comic.
I went to sleep smiling, Vin's green eyes shining in my mind. I had to admit he was definitely more than just a friend.
He excused himself, saying that he needed to get something from his lodge. I had everything I needed for the field work this morning: water, duct tape, horn, etc, so I had no need to go back to my lodge, which was about 500 yards away from the food lodges. Duct tape is an essential part of a marching band person's life. It can fix instruments, teach people how to roll step, annoy people, be used to bribe or threaten with, shut people up, or in extreme cases, "force" someone to leave you alone (Bwa ha ha!). Duct tape is very good.
I watched his retreating form, and jumped when Jos suddenly elbowed me and whispered in my ear, "Oh, he's just a nice guy, eh? I think someone likes Vin!"
"No, he's just a friend!" I exclaimed. Was he? Or was he actually more than a friend?
"Ooh, someone's blushing again! You're so cute when you do that!" she replied, mischief written on every line of her face. I rubbed my face.
Vin returned a few minutes later with his drumsticks and began tinkering with the quints he was assigned. All of a sudden, he jumped into a complicated and demanding routine. The area got silent. His sticks were flying across the drums, and he didn't miss a single hit. I stood, amazed at the wall of rhythm and sound. He finished and looked around at the intrigued faces. A few people began applauding. He was really very talented. Wow. I thought, Okay, so he's talented. Yeah. I tried to deny any sort of, umm, interest in Vin. I told myself firmly that he was just a friend.
"Hey, Vin, that was great!" I said.
"Thanks! Umm, hey, what are do we doing this evening?" he asked, changing the subject.
"It's Wednesday, so there will be a dance tonight. That and Lip Sync Night are my personal favorites. Between the two, I couldn't decide." We always had a barrage of evening activities. Monday we had a sort of "Get to know everyone" game, and Tuesday we were separated into groups, and each group was given a crate with some props. The object was to come up with a skit using those. I ended up in a group with Thor, and he became "E.T, Gone Wrong," in which he was had the crate upended on his head, and he got to crazy and "kill" the "scientific convention" coming to see him. His younger sister, Larna, was in our group as well, and pretended to kick him (not quite in the plan, but it was great) because he refused to "die" fast enough. It was hilarious.
"Cool. Can we bring CDs for the dance?"
"Yeah. That's the only way we get music." I smiled at him, and heard someone clapping as if to call us up. I glanced over, and saw that it was one of the freshmen. Figures. That was a favorite pastime for every freshman class. Clap like you are going to call up the band, and see how many people look over. I looked back at Vin and rolled my eyes. "Freshmen."
"Ah."
"BAND ATTEN HUT!" Thor roared.
"HUT-J!" the band yelled. Half of the band remembered to say "F-J," the other half, well . . . All was still and silent in the area, until Thor broke the silence.
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO SAY 'F-J'!" yelled Thor. The attention reply had been changed from "Hut" to "F-J," for Frederick Jennings High School, the name of our school. Jennings was our first superintendent, back in the twenties, probably when it was nameless, or something. Jennings was some sort of legend nowadays, though no one really knows why.
I rolled my eyes. It was going to take a while to make that habit. Thor proceeded to tell us to line up so we could march out to the field.
* * *
Practice was uneventful. Our staff (other than Mr. Calhoun), Miss Cathorn (the brass instructor), Mr. Chapman (the drum instructor, who also worked for Pepsi and both of whom were new this year), and Carla, the color guard instructor, were there. Carla was our guard person last year. She was cool. I didn't really have an opinion of Cathorn and Chapman yet.
At lunch, the bunch of us grouped together again to talk. Once again, we were having Mexican style food. Nachos.
I picked through the fried rice (smelled good, however tasted rather bland) on my tray and said, "We're doing music this afternoon, right?"
"Yep," said Becca. "Looks like sectionals again."
I groaned inwardly. I wanted a full band rehearsal. Sectionals meant the VLB was lumped in with the trumpets, and Miss Cathorn would alternate between the sections. It got very boring. Much more would get done with a full rehearsal, anyway.
So, after lunch, the VLB met outside to start off sectionals. They were having some trouble with the music (it was not easy at all this year, which kind of comes with the whole not having a lot of choice for shows this year), so I found Miss Cathorn and asked for her help. She disappeared for a brief time, and then called us over to a patch of ground, where the trumpets were congregated. I leaned over to Jos and asked her, "Didn't I ask for some help with music, not to join the trumpets for a communal rehearsal?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Maybe she thinks there are rhythms that both groups have, and she doesn't want to spend the time teaching both groups separately, or something."
"Maybe," she replied, and we told the section to head over to where Cathorn was waiting, a little on the impatient side.
We spent maybe a half-hour plugging through music (with little success), and then Cathorn, rather disgusted, gave us a ten-minute break when people began getting restless. Little really happened, I thought. I looked across the way at some trumpets, who were looking at a music stand and giggling. Curiosity got the better of me and I wandered over to look.
Figures. A couple of ladybugs had landed on the music stand and were busy chasing each other around. They looked like little racecars on an ever- changing track. It was actually very funny.
"What's going on over here? Dan gave us a break," a familiar voice said behind me. I turned around and saw Vin. Dan was Chapman's first name. "Ha, a couple of ladybugs, chasin' each other around the music stand." I said happily. "It's a common trait for the band people here to be entertained by rather dumb things."
"Ah, it's kinda the same everywhere," he replied. Miss Cathorn ambled over, curious about the commotion. She saw what we were watching and walked away disdainfully. I watched her leave. I really was beginning to not like her. She struck a few . . . bad chords with me, so to speak. Jos came over with a plastic cup full of water from the cooler (the camp water was heavy in iron, so it tasted bad), looked at the music stand, and walked away, shaking her head and smiling.
That was about the most exciting event of the afternoon.
* * *
Dinner was done and over with, and everyone was given an hour to get ready for the dance. Some of the girls hit the showers, since the temperature skyrocketed to eighty-five instead of seventy-five like the forecast had said Monday morning. Ah well, good ol' unpredictable Michigan weather. Gotta love it.
Not wanting to go to the dance with wet hair (I don't bother with hair dryers) I just changed into a light blue tank top, khaki shorts and topped that off with a short-sleeve white button-up that I didn't dare wear without something under it (it was more on the, um, semitranslucent side). I went into the bathroom and pulled the upper layers of my hair into a ponytail, leaving the lower layers down. Usually all of my hair stays back.
I read my book for a while, and checked my watch. Seven-thirty. I craned my head around the corner (I take my usual bunk every year for good reason: I don't have to get down to look around the corner to the other side) and yelled to Jos on the other side, "You ready yet?"
"Yeah, just a sec!" she replied. I climbed down from my bunk and pulled on my pair of Merrell sandals. I loved those things, and I also had no need to wear socks with them. Socks in warm weather like this should be made illegal. She appeared around the corner. "Wow, Lyssa!" she exclaimed, noting my appearance. "Trying to impress someone, are we?" She smiled knowingly. I glared at her. Usually I wore just t-shirts and shorts, nothing really preppy or necessarily stylish even, so this was dressing up for me.
"No, I just felt like dressing up a little." Avoiding her eyes, I reached up into my bunk and grabbed my camera. "I almost forgot this." I picked up my CDs from the floor where I had put them earlier in the day and we set out for the old lodge, where Pierce was setting up the sound system.
"Hey, Pierce. Kalea will be along in a moment," I said as we walked in. He looked at me and smiled, acknowledging me.
Vin was there already, wearing the khaki shorts and a Hawaiian-patterned button-up shirt, mainly navy blue in color, and a pair of Teva sandals. I had a pair of Tevas once, but I wore them out after a couple of years of using them to scramble around the rocks on our beach in the summer. Much fun, that was . . .
I waved at him, and he grinned back.
Suddenly, loud rock music poured out of the speakers in front. A large group of marchers walked in and began dancing. The dance had begun! It was about eight o'clock. Right on schedule. I stood off to the side with Kalea, Jos, Vin, and Becca. Pierce was still running the sound system. We stood and talked for a while, and then, of all things, the Chicken Dance came on. Jos dragged everyone out onto the dance floor and made us go through the motions. It was funny to watch everyone dance and laugh at everyone else at the same time.
The song ended, to everyone's relief, and more normal songs came on. Pierce joined us. A few songs later, a slow song came on. Pierce led Kalea away, and Jos and I exchanged knowing smiles. I spotted them slow dancing and raised my camera. Ha ha. I pointed, and shot the picture. A flash of light filled the room, and Kalea glared at me. She wasn't mad, though. After the song was over, she came over and threatened to DE-stroy my camera, but I just grinned and let her threaten doom to all. She subsided and laughed, then made me promise to show her the picture when I got it developed. I agreed with a smile.
We hung out for the first half of the dance, snacking on the food the camp staff put out. Another slow song came on, and Will appeared out of nowhere. I tired to ignore him, but he planted himself in front of me and whined, "Lyssa, please. Give me one more chance. Just dance with me, please!"
I looked at him, disgusted. He tried to contort his features into a look of compassion, but instead he looked like a desperate fool. "No, Will," I said, looking him in the eye. "I have given you enough chances, and you have only taken advantage of my patience, tolerance, and extreme allowances. I have had enough of that-"
He interrupted me. "Just give me one more chance! I can improve-"
"NO! I am SO glad you're a senior, because I don't have to put up with you next year!" I turned and walked away, leaving him shocked and watching me. I decided never to speak to him again, even upon the pain of death. I walked out the door and sat outside on the porch, fighting the emotional reaction that commonly followed these outbursts. I looked around me at the fireflies dancing in the air, and the bright stars. It was beautiful. I loved it when Nature gave displays like that. After a couple of minutes of watching and letting go of my mind, I had calmed down. Someone sat down beside me and put a comforting arm around me. I jumped, coming suddenly out of my wanderings.
"Sorry . . . you all right?" Vin asked, concerned.
"Yeah, I'm okay, I think. W-Will and I broke up a couple of weeks ago, and I guess both of us are still trying to get over it. I got disgusted with him . . . he thinks he can get me back, but it's not happening . . . I gave him too many chances . . ." I broke off. Why was I spilling this to someone I barely knew?
Vin's arm tightened around me. He was so close . . .
"Jos is telling him off right now. We should go back inside and enjoy the rest of the dance." We walked slowly back to the door. I cast one glance back toward the fireflies and the splendor behind me. "I-It's beautiful out tonight."
"Yeah, it sure is," he replied. He sounded genuine. Another thing we had in common . . .
We walked back inside to see Will slink away from Jos. People began staring at us. Jos spotted us and grinned. Sensing my discomfort, Vin let go. I regretted that, but I didn't want rumors starting.
Jos ran over, grabbed Vin, and dragged him away. I rejoined the others and sat down in an empty chair. They didn't really say anything. A minute or two later, Jos, mischief written on every line of her face, reappeared with Vin behind her, looking a little embarrassed. He sat next to me, looking uncomfortable, and when another slow song started, Vin asked suddenly, "Yawannadancewithme?" making it all one word. I looked at his crimson face, and replied, "Sure!"
He took my hands in his and led me out onto the dance floor.
* * *
I climbed onto my bunk and sighed passionately. Vin and I had danced for the rest of the evening, and afterward stood and looked at the stars before heading off to our respective bunks. I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and let down my hair in a slight daze. I went back to my bunk and climbed into my sleeping bag. I found my book and opened it up to the page I had marked. Several minutes later, a grinning face poked up over my open book. I had then realized that I had not really been reading, just staring at the page, lost in thought. I looked up. It was Jos. She climbed the rest of the way into my bunk and sat on my legs. "You should have seen the look on your face!" I smiled at her and said nothing. "You're blushing," she said suddenly.
"So?" I tried to be annoyed, but it wasn't working. I was in too good a mood. After a couple of minutes, Jos left and headed back over to her bunk to listen to her favorite Japanese pop CD and read the latest Superman comic.
I went to sleep smiling, Vin's green eyes shining in my mind. I had to admit he was definitely more than just a friend.