((a/n: They didn't find anyone to replace me, they just somehow worked the
drill spots of the guard closer together as to fill up the gap))
I opened my eyes slowly, looking out the window. The sky was gray and overcast, and the wind howled through the trees. It was one of those days where you'd normally give one look outside before deciding it was too cold and huddle back under the covers. Unfortunately for me, today wasn't one of those days.
In exactly one day from now, I'd be on that dreaded plane to Florida. I'd be soaring a million miles away (or so it seemed) from that marching field (erm, football field) and from my marching band. But that was tomorrow. For now I'd just focus on today, my very last competition. The practice started at around 12 and went until 4. I decided the previous day that I really didn't need to be there for all four hours because at least three of them I'd spend at my usual place, the sideline. So I told Mrs. Loren that I'd come in at two because I "had to pack." I got up around 10 (ahhh sleep) and actually did some packing. The four hours I had until I came to practice went by quite fast, and the next thing I knew, my dad was dropping me off at the school.
It ~was~ cold. I tried to bury myself into the jacket I was wearing, but that didn't do much. The wind cut icily through me as I took the banana flag I practiced with (well, played around with, really) and headed up to the field. The wind wouldn't leave me alone. . . it ruffled my hair and blew the flag silk against my face.
"Mrs. Loren?" I called as I got up to the field, unsure what to do next. Mrs. Loren was directing the guard, indicating who should go where and who should do what. She glanced over and saw me. "You came!" She said, sounding surprised. "Yeah." I replied. Of course I came. I really didn't want to, but this was my obligation and I was bound to it. Mrs. Loren glanced at the field. "We're doing the drum solo right now. I suppose that for now you can sit on that bench. I'll make sure to get you if we do the first song." She said. "Don't worry. I'll have them do it a few times." She smiled and patted me on the shoulder. I forced my numb face into a smile and sat on the bench.
It was very cold. There were instrument cases on either side of me and what I think was a drummer on the other side of the bench. There were drums next to that. . . person. The person was wrapped up from head to toe and all I could see were two eyes peering out from a scarf. Ah. . . I knew who this was. It was Pete, one of the drummers. He had the flu, but still managed to come to practice.
I squinted my eyes shut as another cold wind sliced through me. The bench was cold, the wind was cold, even the field under my feet was hard and cold. I stared at them all marching in their drill spots, stared at that now empty space that was once mine.
And strangely enough, I knew exactly where my spot was in that drum solo. Back at band camp (back, waaaay back), when I was still confused and learning, the only spots I really knew perfectly were the drum solo. That gave me a smile, remembering those days. Band camp. So hot. So evil.
But that was band camp. One doesn't really like to think of band camp longer than necessary. I sat on that bench for quite a long time. The drummer next to me did, too, but he hardly ever moved and at times I wondered if he was even alive. It was too cold to bother with making up random routines with my banana flags, and too windy as well. The band director and the drill guy called out things. Mrs. Loren did, too. I checked my watch repeatedly over the course of the next few hours. Nothing changed. . . much.
"Final runthru!" Called out Nick the drill guy. I leaped off the cold bench in anticipation. Was he serious? "Christine," Mrs. Loren said, walking off the field and taking her place by the drum major to direct the guard in the runthru. "You've been sitting on a cold bench for 3 hours." She said, smiling sadly at me. "Yeah." I added dryly. "Now's your chance. Do this runthru." I smiled up at her. This was, in truth, my final runthru.
I took up my cloak and threw it over my shoulders. I ran over the hard grass to where the guard was, waiting for the music to begin. "Welcome back among the living," Nelly remarked to me. I grinned at her.
The cymbals crescendoed (is that a word?) into their opening sequence, and I took my cloak and did the work as I had never done it before. Haha, the person in front of me just got her cloak caught on her head. I only did that once.
With a final whoosh, I descended down into the end of the song. Great. . . the song was over. That song was way too short, in my opinion. I scurried like a squirrel ((a/n: squirrel. . . last year. . . haha)) over to the front sideline, scooping up the shiny cloaks in my arms. How many more times would I have to do this? One. That's it. Just one.
I stood at my usual place for the rest of the show. I actually, and surprisingly enough, still knew some of the work. Note the ~some~, of course. And soon the last song ended, and the final practice (well, my final practice, at least) was over. It seemed so much like all the other practices. It ~was~ like all the other practices, actually. I trotted over to where Mr. Piquano was giving his post-practice speech. "This is it, you guys," He said. "This is your last competition before championships. It'll be your time, give it your all. Prove to us one last time that you can do it." He waved us off. The band departed, and Mrs. Loren (and Diana, too) called all the guard over.
Mrs. Loren looked at me. "First of all," She began, making sure that she had the attention of the entire guard. "I have someone I would like to thank." I glanced around. Alora caught my eye and shrugged. "Christine, could you come here a moment?" She beckoned me forward. ~Of course I could,~ I thought. Mrs. Loren put her hand on my shoulder. "I would like to thank you," She said. "For staying. You've shown a great amount of courage in your role, coming in here those months ago wanting to quit, and then not quitting when you were given the chance. You stayed even when you found out you'd be better off leaving. That takes a lot of courage and acceptance, and I would like to thank you for that." Mrs. Loren handed me a pair of gloves. I grinned inwardly. They were these really funny marching band gloves. They had our school colors on them, blue and white. On the top of the gloves in blue letters it said, "Ponra High School" with a music staff, and "marching band" underneath the music staff. The actual glove hand part had little blue music notes. "I'd like to give you these gloves as a sign of my appreciation. I'm glad you were in my guard this year."
I blinked, trying to dry my eyes. There was ~absolutely no way~ that I'd be caught crying in front of my colorguard! Abandoning all pretenses, I hugged Mrs. Loren, and she hugged me back. And for that moment, I truly felt like this ~was~ worth it, and for once, fate was on my side.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Where ~are~ they?!" Mr. Piquano exclaimed, walking back and forth in front of the school. Me, Alora, and Nelly had all huddled together around our bags. We were waiting for the buses to come. They hadn't come yet. Mr. Piquano was pacing along the sidewalk in front of the school, alternatively looking at his watch and looking up for the buses. "Where are they?" He demanded. "Don't those idiots at the bus company know we ~can't be late for a competition???~" He looked extremely annoyed.
Finally, after about 20 minutes of this, Mr. Piquano threw his hands up in exasperation. "That's it!" He exclaimed. "What can we do? We certainly can't wait for these idiots to get their thing together. We have to get to the competition." He began a heavy conversation with Nick the Drill Guy. "We'll have to carpool it. How many seniors have their cars here today?" All the seniors, including Chrisabel, raised their hands. "Okay. Each of you can take several band members in your cars. I know the way to Mystic High School, so you can all follow my car. Band members, we'll put some of your stuff in the same truck with the instruments. Load up!" He began directing people to put their stuff in the truck. Me, Alora, and Nelly exchanged looks. "Weird," Alora remarked. I chucked my garment bag in the truck with Nelly's. "Now, who are we going with? Chrisabel?" Nelly asked. Alora looked both ways before whispering, "I don't really want to. I mean, if she gets lost, I don't want to be in the car with a hysterical 18 year old right before a competition." She admitted. "Good point." I agreed.
"I can give you three a ride," Mrs. Loren said, overhearing our conversation. "Okay!" I agreed quickly. "Sure, I'm in." Nelly said. "Alright. If you both are." Alora said with a sigh. We took our regular bookbags and got into Mrs. Loren's car, squishing in the backseat. I grinned, sitting in the middle between Nelly and Alora. Mrs. Loren started up the car, switching the heat on. "I know the way to Mystic High School," She said. "If we get lost, I can find the way there. One of my daughters used to go there." She explained to us, pulling out of the parkinglot. I smiled, looking out the window at the growing darkness. This wasn't that bad at all!
"I can't believe this is Christie's last competition," Nelly said. I glared at her for using my nickname. Is my name Christie? I think not! She grinned back at me, knowing that I hated that nickname. "I can't either." I said. "It doesn't seem like it should be." "It doesn't seem like it's the last competition before championships, either." Alora continued. "It seems like we still have many more months to go." "Yes." Nelly agreed. "That's how it always is," Mrs. Loren said. "When it comes to the end, it doesn't seem like the end." I smiled at them. That was true, what Mrs. Loren said. When it comes to the end, it doesn't feel like it should be the end. Not ever.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The ride to Mystic High took about 20 minutes. Those 20 minutes flew by too quickly. It was great, being in Mrs. Loren's car, all of us chatting. It was one of those moments that make you love marching band even more. But alas, we got to the school. We all left our stuff in Mrs. Loren's car, then went to the truck to get our garment bags. We put those in her car, too, and then went for a final practice.
By now it was completely dark. The lights were on all around the field, and a small amount of light shone in our little practice space. Likewise, it had also gotten colder. I wrapped my cloak around me to conserve the meager amount of warmth we had. The other guard members were shivering, just as icy cold as I was. We did a short flag runthru. I kept my cloak on because I really didn't feel like taking it off. . . it only made me feel more vulnerable to the wind. The runthru was very short, mainly because we got to the school late and didn't have much time to prepare. It seemed like we had only gotten there when Mr. Piquano and Nick called everyone in for a pep talk.
"Well, this is it." Nick said. "This is the last competition before championships. This is ~it~. Consider this your final test. It's like studying for a final exam." Final exam?? How dare he compare something as good as marching band to something as ~evil~ as final exams? Well, that's band directors (and drill guys) for you. "We had a late start, but we can do this! Now, line up, and let's be ready!!" He clapped his hands and we all straightened into our two lines. I was once again between Danni and Shelley, as always. Perfectly normal, right?
The drummer started his cadence. I raised my head, listening to it. Such a wonderful cadence. We marked time, then marched out onto the field for the final competition. . . my final competition.
"Now entering the field, Ponra High School marching band!" The announcer blared, just like always. We split. The guard ran to set up their flags, and I ran to stand at the opening spot. Just like always. "Are the judges ready?" The announcer said. "Is the band ready?" ~Is the guard ready? Nope,~ I thought. Just like always. "Then, Ponra High School, you may now take the field in competition!" And so we will.
We did the first song, and I really put my all into it. This would technically be the last time I performed it on the field being judged, so I made extra sure it would be ~the best~ I ever made it. I threw my cloak down dramatically at the end of the first song, then ran to the sideline. That was the end of my performance. I sighed inwardly, like I always did after the first song was done. I gathered up all the cloaks and dropped them on the pit board. Then I took my usual place, staring at the field out of the corner of my eye, my head down and hands clasped. And I thought, with mild amusement, ~You know what? I still know my drill spots.~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"That was great. All I have to say is, amazing performance. That was really 1st place work." Said Nick as soon as we got off the field. "That had to be the best performance you guys have ~ever~ done." I grinned, my face flushed with pride as much as red from the wind. Alora leaned on her flags, grinning at me. I held my head up higher now. The success and adrenaline of a marching band competition was getting to me, and the post-competition thrill was coursing through my entire body. "Get all your stuff, and let's get to the stands!" Mr. Piquano dismissed us.
"Ahhh Nelly Alora we did it!!!" I exclaimed. "Mrs. Loren, we did it!" I said joyously. I didn't even know what score we got, but still! I love that adrenaline rush you get. A marching band high, I've gotten to calling it ((a/n: 100 ways to get high. . . #1, marching band! Lol inside joke)). Mrs. Loren smiled at all of us as she unlocked her car so we could get our stuff. I had to get up really early the next day, so I couldn't stay for awards which were going to be around 11:00. Likewise Nelly couldn't, so my dad was going to bring her home. As we got our stuff out of Mrs. Loren's car, my dad pulled up in his blue car with the American flag on the side and honked the horn. "Oh. . . that's my dad." I said. Nelly slung her bookbag over her shoulder. "Okay." She said.
"You go ahead, I'll be right there." I told Nelly. She nodded perkily and trotted over to my dad's car. "Hello, Mr. Vendredy." She said to my dad as she opened the door.
"Well, looks like this is it, huh?" Alora remarked. "Yeah." I said sadly. "I really wish I could be there, you know I do." She nodded. "So do I." "Well, good luck. I wish you guys lots of luck. You know us, we are a good band, we'll win, right?" I said, grinning. Alora grinned back. "We rule." She said. I gave her a final good luck and then got my bookbag from Mrs. Loren's car.
"Ah, you're leaving now?" She asked. I couldn't help but scowl slightly. "Yeah. I am," I said, now feeling very downcast. "You'll tell me how everything went when I get back to school, right?" I asked. "Of course!" She assured me. I gave Mrs. Loren one final hug. "Thank you for staying," She whispered. I smiled. "And thank you for letting me stay."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
My dad drove Nelly home, and then we got back to my own house. "I am going to miss marching band." I announced as I walked into the house still dressed in my uniform. "Listen to who's talking." My mom said laughingly. "Miss 'Oh I think I'm Going To Quit,'" "Really. That was band camp. ~Everyone~ wants to quit at band camp." I concluded. She looked at the clock that now read, well, 10:30. "You'd better be getting to bed. We have to get up early tomorrow, and it's going to be a long day ahead of us." I sighed-she was right.
So I got changed and finished my last minute packing, then set my alarm for 4 am. I then crawled into bed, pulling the warm covers up to my chin. And as I drifted listlessly off into sleep, I thought, ~You know what? I am glad I stayed.~
((Did that make any sense? I only have a few more chapters left in this story before I continue on and write the second story. I can say now that the second one will probably be longer (and better) than this one. Review anyway, smashing!))
I opened my eyes slowly, looking out the window. The sky was gray and overcast, and the wind howled through the trees. It was one of those days where you'd normally give one look outside before deciding it was too cold and huddle back under the covers. Unfortunately for me, today wasn't one of those days.
In exactly one day from now, I'd be on that dreaded plane to Florida. I'd be soaring a million miles away (or so it seemed) from that marching field (erm, football field) and from my marching band. But that was tomorrow. For now I'd just focus on today, my very last competition. The practice started at around 12 and went until 4. I decided the previous day that I really didn't need to be there for all four hours because at least three of them I'd spend at my usual place, the sideline. So I told Mrs. Loren that I'd come in at two because I "had to pack." I got up around 10 (ahhh sleep) and actually did some packing. The four hours I had until I came to practice went by quite fast, and the next thing I knew, my dad was dropping me off at the school.
It ~was~ cold. I tried to bury myself into the jacket I was wearing, but that didn't do much. The wind cut icily through me as I took the banana flag I practiced with (well, played around with, really) and headed up to the field. The wind wouldn't leave me alone. . . it ruffled my hair and blew the flag silk against my face.
"Mrs. Loren?" I called as I got up to the field, unsure what to do next. Mrs. Loren was directing the guard, indicating who should go where and who should do what. She glanced over and saw me. "You came!" She said, sounding surprised. "Yeah." I replied. Of course I came. I really didn't want to, but this was my obligation and I was bound to it. Mrs. Loren glanced at the field. "We're doing the drum solo right now. I suppose that for now you can sit on that bench. I'll make sure to get you if we do the first song." She said. "Don't worry. I'll have them do it a few times." She smiled and patted me on the shoulder. I forced my numb face into a smile and sat on the bench.
It was very cold. There were instrument cases on either side of me and what I think was a drummer on the other side of the bench. There were drums next to that. . . person. The person was wrapped up from head to toe and all I could see were two eyes peering out from a scarf. Ah. . . I knew who this was. It was Pete, one of the drummers. He had the flu, but still managed to come to practice.
I squinted my eyes shut as another cold wind sliced through me. The bench was cold, the wind was cold, even the field under my feet was hard and cold. I stared at them all marching in their drill spots, stared at that now empty space that was once mine.
And strangely enough, I knew exactly where my spot was in that drum solo. Back at band camp (back, waaaay back), when I was still confused and learning, the only spots I really knew perfectly were the drum solo. That gave me a smile, remembering those days. Band camp. So hot. So evil.
But that was band camp. One doesn't really like to think of band camp longer than necessary. I sat on that bench for quite a long time. The drummer next to me did, too, but he hardly ever moved and at times I wondered if he was even alive. It was too cold to bother with making up random routines with my banana flags, and too windy as well. The band director and the drill guy called out things. Mrs. Loren did, too. I checked my watch repeatedly over the course of the next few hours. Nothing changed. . . much.
"Final runthru!" Called out Nick the drill guy. I leaped off the cold bench in anticipation. Was he serious? "Christine," Mrs. Loren said, walking off the field and taking her place by the drum major to direct the guard in the runthru. "You've been sitting on a cold bench for 3 hours." She said, smiling sadly at me. "Yeah." I added dryly. "Now's your chance. Do this runthru." I smiled up at her. This was, in truth, my final runthru.
I took up my cloak and threw it over my shoulders. I ran over the hard grass to where the guard was, waiting for the music to begin. "Welcome back among the living," Nelly remarked to me. I grinned at her.
The cymbals crescendoed (is that a word?) into their opening sequence, and I took my cloak and did the work as I had never done it before. Haha, the person in front of me just got her cloak caught on her head. I only did that once.
With a final whoosh, I descended down into the end of the song. Great. . . the song was over. That song was way too short, in my opinion. I scurried like a squirrel ((a/n: squirrel. . . last year. . . haha)) over to the front sideline, scooping up the shiny cloaks in my arms. How many more times would I have to do this? One. That's it. Just one.
I stood at my usual place for the rest of the show. I actually, and surprisingly enough, still knew some of the work. Note the ~some~, of course. And soon the last song ended, and the final practice (well, my final practice, at least) was over. It seemed so much like all the other practices. It ~was~ like all the other practices, actually. I trotted over to where Mr. Piquano was giving his post-practice speech. "This is it, you guys," He said. "This is your last competition before championships. It'll be your time, give it your all. Prove to us one last time that you can do it." He waved us off. The band departed, and Mrs. Loren (and Diana, too) called all the guard over.
Mrs. Loren looked at me. "First of all," She began, making sure that she had the attention of the entire guard. "I have someone I would like to thank." I glanced around. Alora caught my eye and shrugged. "Christine, could you come here a moment?" She beckoned me forward. ~Of course I could,~ I thought. Mrs. Loren put her hand on my shoulder. "I would like to thank you," She said. "For staying. You've shown a great amount of courage in your role, coming in here those months ago wanting to quit, and then not quitting when you were given the chance. You stayed even when you found out you'd be better off leaving. That takes a lot of courage and acceptance, and I would like to thank you for that." Mrs. Loren handed me a pair of gloves. I grinned inwardly. They were these really funny marching band gloves. They had our school colors on them, blue and white. On the top of the gloves in blue letters it said, "Ponra High School" with a music staff, and "marching band" underneath the music staff. The actual glove hand part had little blue music notes. "I'd like to give you these gloves as a sign of my appreciation. I'm glad you were in my guard this year."
I blinked, trying to dry my eyes. There was ~absolutely no way~ that I'd be caught crying in front of my colorguard! Abandoning all pretenses, I hugged Mrs. Loren, and she hugged me back. And for that moment, I truly felt like this ~was~ worth it, and for once, fate was on my side.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Where ~are~ they?!" Mr. Piquano exclaimed, walking back and forth in front of the school. Me, Alora, and Nelly had all huddled together around our bags. We were waiting for the buses to come. They hadn't come yet. Mr. Piquano was pacing along the sidewalk in front of the school, alternatively looking at his watch and looking up for the buses. "Where are they?" He demanded. "Don't those idiots at the bus company know we ~can't be late for a competition???~" He looked extremely annoyed.
Finally, after about 20 minutes of this, Mr. Piquano threw his hands up in exasperation. "That's it!" He exclaimed. "What can we do? We certainly can't wait for these idiots to get their thing together. We have to get to the competition." He began a heavy conversation with Nick the Drill Guy. "We'll have to carpool it. How many seniors have their cars here today?" All the seniors, including Chrisabel, raised their hands. "Okay. Each of you can take several band members in your cars. I know the way to Mystic High School, so you can all follow my car. Band members, we'll put some of your stuff in the same truck with the instruments. Load up!" He began directing people to put their stuff in the truck. Me, Alora, and Nelly exchanged looks. "Weird," Alora remarked. I chucked my garment bag in the truck with Nelly's. "Now, who are we going with? Chrisabel?" Nelly asked. Alora looked both ways before whispering, "I don't really want to. I mean, if she gets lost, I don't want to be in the car with a hysterical 18 year old right before a competition." She admitted. "Good point." I agreed.
"I can give you three a ride," Mrs. Loren said, overhearing our conversation. "Okay!" I agreed quickly. "Sure, I'm in." Nelly said. "Alright. If you both are." Alora said with a sigh. We took our regular bookbags and got into Mrs. Loren's car, squishing in the backseat. I grinned, sitting in the middle between Nelly and Alora. Mrs. Loren started up the car, switching the heat on. "I know the way to Mystic High School," She said. "If we get lost, I can find the way there. One of my daughters used to go there." She explained to us, pulling out of the parkinglot. I smiled, looking out the window at the growing darkness. This wasn't that bad at all!
"I can't believe this is Christie's last competition," Nelly said. I glared at her for using my nickname. Is my name Christie? I think not! She grinned back at me, knowing that I hated that nickname. "I can't either." I said. "It doesn't seem like it should be." "It doesn't seem like it's the last competition before championships, either." Alora continued. "It seems like we still have many more months to go." "Yes." Nelly agreed. "That's how it always is," Mrs. Loren said. "When it comes to the end, it doesn't seem like the end." I smiled at them. That was true, what Mrs. Loren said. When it comes to the end, it doesn't feel like it should be the end. Not ever.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The ride to Mystic High took about 20 minutes. Those 20 minutes flew by too quickly. It was great, being in Mrs. Loren's car, all of us chatting. It was one of those moments that make you love marching band even more. But alas, we got to the school. We all left our stuff in Mrs. Loren's car, then went to the truck to get our garment bags. We put those in her car, too, and then went for a final practice.
By now it was completely dark. The lights were on all around the field, and a small amount of light shone in our little practice space. Likewise, it had also gotten colder. I wrapped my cloak around me to conserve the meager amount of warmth we had. The other guard members were shivering, just as icy cold as I was. We did a short flag runthru. I kept my cloak on because I really didn't feel like taking it off. . . it only made me feel more vulnerable to the wind. The runthru was very short, mainly because we got to the school late and didn't have much time to prepare. It seemed like we had only gotten there when Mr. Piquano and Nick called everyone in for a pep talk.
"Well, this is it." Nick said. "This is the last competition before championships. This is ~it~. Consider this your final test. It's like studying for a final exam." Final exam?? How dare he compare something as good as marching band to something as ~evil~ as final exams? Well, that's band directors (and drill guys) for you. "We had a late start, but we can do this! Now, line up, and let's be ready!!" He clapped his hands and we all straightened into our two lines. I was once again between Danni and Shelley, as always. Perfectly normal, right?
The drummer started his cadence. I raised my head, listening to it. Such a wonderful cadence. We marked time, then marched out onto the field for the final competition. . . my final competition.
"Now entering the field, Ponra High School marching band!" The announcer blared, just like always. We split. The guard ran to set up their flags, and I ran to stand at the opening spot. Just like always. "Are the judges ready?" The announcer said. "Is the band ready?" ~Is the guard ready? Nope,~ I thought. Just like always. "Then, Ponra High School, you may now take the field in competition!" And so we will.
We did the first song, and I really put my all into it. This would technically be the last time I performed it on the field being judged, so I made extra sure it would be ~the best~ I ever made it. I threw my cloak down dramatically at the end of the first song, then ran to the sideline. That was the end of my performance. I sighed inwardly, like I always did after the first song was done. I gathered up all the cloaks and dropped them on the pit board. Then I took my usual place, staring at the field out of the corner of my eye, my head down and hands clasped. And I thought, with mild amusement, ~You know what? I still know my drill spots.~
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"That was great. All I have to say is, amazing performance. That was really 1st place work." Said Nick as soon as we got off the field. "That had to be the best performance you guys have ~ever~ done." I grinned, my face flushed with pride as much as red from the wind. Alora leaned on her flags, grinning at me. I held my head up higher now. The success and adrenaline of a marching band competition was getting to me, and the post-competition thrill was coursing through my entire body. "Get all your stuff, and let's get to the stands!" Mr. Piquano dismissed us.
"Ahhh Nelly Alora we did it!!!" I exclaimed. "Mrs. Loren, we did it!" I said joyously. I didn't even know what score we got, but still! I love that adrenaline rush you get. A marching band high, I've gotten to calling it ((a/n: 100 ways to get high. . . #1, marching band! Lol inside joke)). Mrs. Loren smiled at all of us as she unlocked her car so we could get our stuff. I had to get up really early the next day, so I couldn't stay for awards which were going to be around 11:00. Likewise Nelly couldn't, so my dad was going to bring her home. As we got our stuff out of Mrs. Loren's car, my dad pulled up in his blue car with the American flag on the side and honked the horn. "Oh. . . that's my dad." I said. Nelly slung her bookbag over her shoulder. "Okay." She said.
"You go ahead, I'll be right there." I told Nelly. She nodded perkily and trotted over to my dad's car. "Hello, Mr. Vendredy." She said to my dad as she opened the door.
"Well, looks like this is it, huh?" Alora remarked. "Yeah." I said sadly. "I really wish I could be there, you know I do." She nodded. "So do I." "Well, good luck. I wish you guys lots of luck. You know us, we are a good band, we'll win, right?" I said, grinning. Alora grinned back. "We rule." She said. I gave her a final good luck and then got my bookbag from Mrs. Loren's car.
"Ah, you're leaving now?" She asked. I couldn't help but scowl slightly. "Yeah. I am," I said, now feeling very downcast. "You'll tell me how everything went when I get back to school, right?" I asked. "Of course!" She assured me. I gave Mrs. Loren one final hug. "Thank you for staying," She whispered. I smiled. "And thank you for letting me stay."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
My dad drove Nelly home, and then we got back to my own house. "I am going to miss marching band." I announced as I walked into the house still dressed in my uniform. "Listen to who's talking." My mom said laughingly. "Miss 'Oh I think I'm Going To Quit,'" "Really. That was band camp. ~Everyone~ wants to quit at band camp." I concluded. She looked at the clock that now read, well, 10:30. "You'd better be getting to bed. We have to get up early tomorrow, and it's going to be a long day ahead of us." I sighed-she was right.
So I got changed and finished my last minute packing, then set my alarm for 4 am. I then crawled into bed, pulling the warm covers up to my chin. And as I drifted listlessly off into sleep, I thought, ~You know what? I am glad I stayed.~
((Did that make any sense? I only have a few more chapters left in this story before I continue on and write the second story. I can say now that the second one will probably be longer (and better) than this one. Review anyway, smashing!))