After dinner we had a music rehearsal. It was cold, but I didn't wear a jacket. The breeze felt good on my fried skin. Stevens made fun of me for it too! He seemed to like to make fun of us students. Rehearsal went smoothly enough though. The drum majors were no where to be seen. "Having a sectional," someone had said.
Eddie sat at my table at dinner that night. He found my sun burnt situation rather hilarious. He said he did the same thing his freshman year. "A rookie's mistake." He told me the girls would be more than willing to lend me some sunscreen if I didn't have any. Oh wow, a human side to him. I guess this was when I fully grasped the concept that a drum major on the field was completely separate from a drum major off the field. But when they meant business, they sure meant business.
An hour sped by, and rehearsal was almost over. It was pitch black outside, and it was getting colder by the minute. We could see the lightning in the distance, and when we weren't playing our instruments we counted how long it took for the sound of the thunder to reach us. The outdoor ramada where we rehearsed was well lit, but that posed another problem: moths. Swarms of moths. These were moths the size of birds, and it was almost like the got a kick out of swooping down at us like bats. Then the rain started. Lucky thing we were under the ramada. Ok, well now I wished I had a jacket. But rehearsal was almost over, and then we'd be heading into the nice warm gym for games.
The rest of the night went by in a flash. I remember laughing so hard that my stomach hurt and my eyes welled up with tears. My muscles ached and my skin was burning, but I almost didn't want the night to end.
Jo and I trudged along in the rain and mud on the way back to the cabin. We were mostly silent as we walked; our heads were down, we had to watch the slippery uneven ground. I had a huge smile planted on my face, and every now and then I'd laugh remembering something that had happened earlier that day. Crickets chirped, stars shone bright, and a low but constant breeze chilled us to the bone as we plowed on. The rain wasn't coming down too hard, but I remember wishing it would pour. I love the rain! A small black cat sat on the porch of the cafeteria, looking very upset with the idea of getting wet.
I took my eyes off the ground for a moment and noticed Eddie trudging along a few feet ahead of us. I laughed again, more noticeably this time, at the though of Eddie's shaved legs. Jo turned and looked at me. Jo has this look she uses, a look that says "how stupid are you?" Her eyes widen and she drops her bottom jaw just a little bit, a smile plays on the corners of her mouth. Sometimes she'll even mouth the words, "Oh my gosh! What's wrong with you?" I laughed loudly when I saw her do this. She immediately smiled and laughed, and I half tripped over a rock on the path. Both of us put our eyes back on the ground.
"I was jus thinking about the bus ride." I said in my defense.
"Mhmm," Jo said, with a mocking tone.
"I had fun today."
"Mhmm," she responded, with the same mocking quality.
"I did," I exclaimed, eyes widened wondering how she could mock that statement. There was a pause, and Jo and I kept walking. Then she kicked a rock and pushed a chunk of her hair out of her face.
"How could that surprise you," Jo asked. She looked over at me. I stopped walking. I paused for a moment and thought. Jo stopped a few steps ahead and turned around to watch me. Because no one ever likes me, or treats me as an equal, or ever wants anything to do with me, I thought.
"I don't remember," I lied, grinning a devilish little smile, as I ran my first few steps to catch up with Jo. We walked a few more steps, the rain coming down faster every second. She leaned over and nudged me with her shoulder, and we took off running the rest of the way back to the cabin, laughing the whole way there. When we passed Eddie, he looked at us like we were crazy.
By the time we got back to the cabin we were soaked, and out of breath from laughing. It was strange dealing with people like Jo as if I'd known them for years. I was restless that night, although no one else seemed to be. Everyone else was exhausted. My bed squeaked whenever I moved though, so I lay on my side and stared out the window. I thought about how my day had been, and how incredible it all seemed. I thought about the days ahead of me, and how much I had to look forward to. After what seemed like forever I drifted off into a deep, sound sleep, one of those that you never want to wake up from.
When I woke up the next morning I could only feel pain. Pain and cold overtook my body. Oh, it was freezing. I saw the girl on the top bunk next to me rub her eyes and stretch. I yawned. Then we realized, at the exact same moment, that we were the first ones up. We leaped off the beds and ran for the showers. I couldn't wait to feel that nice warm water! Ouch! Too hot!
Camp wore on this way for a couple of days. Every morning we had calisthenics, then breakfast. After breakfast we had an hour before a two hour marching session. Then there was more free time before lunch. After lunch we would have another two or three hour marching lesson. Music rehearsals were later that night, after dinner. After rehearsal we gathered in the gym for games. Some days it rained, other days the sun shone brightly, although most days it was a combination of both. People were just as accepting as they had ever been. It was like we were all new best friends. And the work ethics were amazing. Sure we all complained about our aching muscles and sunburns when we were back in the cabins, but on the field we were machines.
We were trained to march forwards, backwards, sideways, diagonally in a box, in a circle, and in octagons. We learned step sizing and how to stay in line with everyone else. We learned more new commands, and the correct vocal response with each of them.
By skit night I had learned so much I thought my head would explode. By now I had discovered the many clicks, and classifications people put in the band. I could tell you what a person was like based on what instrument the play or what year they are in high school. In fact, that was how we referred to each other. There was "Mike the baritone", or "Jeff the freshman alto-sax", or "Kiki the clarinet". Sometimes we even added an extra few adjectives. There was "Cameron, the really, really obnoxious trumpet"!
Camp seemed to have flown by, the final night was here. I didn't have a jacket because we had held the music rehearsal in doors that night. I was fine though, because we all huddled together in the small gym. Everyone was in an exceptionally good mood that night. First off it was skit night, and plus it was the last night of camp! We'd be leaving tomorrow right after lunch!
Nicole leaned over and told me I'd love the skits, they're one of the best parts of camp. Although I doubted that that was possible, I was looking forward to the color guard skit! They had been practicing all camp! And they'd made such a big deal out of it! Nicole told me I would love the senior girl's skit. Every section did their own skit, senior girls did one, and in past years drum majors did one.
First up were the piccolos (normally the flutes, but they played the piccolo for marching band). Piccolos are the prim and proper gals. They're some of the best musicians in the band. They're always on top of everything, and have been the directors' favorites since I was in fourth grade. Their skit was nothing special though. But then neither was ours.
Clarinets are the only instruments that don't fit in a stereotype. We have a stereotype of our own almost. Some clarinets are the loudest people ever, like I had been these past few days. Others of us wouldn't talk to save their lives. Some of the clarinets are the most down to earth people in the band, others are definitely weird. Almost half of the clarinets are care a ton about the band, and are always out there trying their hardest! Others are the laziest people on the field. I think that's why the clarinets are the section that never really gets noticed. No one care here us on the field in any case. We don't function as a section, and no one expects us to, we're the clarinets.
Nest came the saxes. Saxophone players always have, and always will think they're extremely cool. And if you don't know it, then what planet are you from? Something about the jazz stereotype put on their instrument makes them feel the need to act the way they do. They're loud, and pretty wild, but of course there are always the exceptions.
Jeff was this section's exception. Jeff was a red head sax player who didn't hold himself in higher respects because of the instrument he plays. He was the kind of guy who would sit for hours listening to a girl ramble about her problems. He was always around, but no one seemed to mind. He was sweet and very soft spoken at first. But Jeff was a barrel full of surprises once you got him going. For instance: the sax skit ended with Jeff performing the perfect splits, something he'd learned in his years of dancing.
Next up: percussion.