Disclaimer: For the most part, I don't own any of these people. Tear. Well, I did add and subtract to some of their personalities, but for the most part I don't own them. I did, however, change names so that I won't get yelled at.

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The Best Days of Our Lives

Chapter Two: The Birth of Loser - September 4, 2002

"Okay, guys, you did good at our first game," Miss Anderson was telling the Wind Ensemble on the first day of school, "but we obviously have a bit to work out before the next one."

"Yeah, like the second half of the show," yelled out a junior named Derek.

Miss Anderson chose to ignore him and continued. "So, from now until homecoming, we're going to either be out on the practice field or out by the stadium, so please, wear appropriate shoes." She always called the field where the football games were the "stadium." It was just an open field, so no one was quite sure why she called it that. "We need to get Mission Impossible down and we have to start with Bohemian Rhapsody. I want to at least know Mission Impossible by the next game."

"And that is?" someone asked.

"Two weeks from Friday," Miss Anderson said.

"And when is Homecoming?" someone else asked.

"Exactly one month from today. Any more questions?" No one said anything - which was a miracle with this band. "Okay, then, grab your instruments, music, and field charts and head out to the stadium."

Everyone got to their feet and began to rush towards the door. I went over to my locker to get me mallets and field charts. Of course, I find my mallets, but naturally my field charts were missing.

"Gah," I said, searching frantically for my charts.

"Jill, hurry up," Laura said to me, already wearing her bass drum and sunglasses in hand.

"I can't find my field charts," I said, looking around in other people's lockers, just in case.

"Did you look in the lost and found?" she asked.

"I will," I said, looking at the large box in the corner. "Just go. Aaron is going to be leaving with the truck any second. I'll just carry my drum down."

"Good luck," Laura said with a wink and she headed out the door.

The room was mainly empty except for Miss Anderson in her office with a few stray students asking for reeds or music. I walked over to the box that read, "Lost and Found." I grimaced. I really didn't like this box. There were socks, shirts, shoes, water bottles, flip folders, lyres, and God only knows what else in there from last year that no one had claimed. With good reason, too, because it was a surprise if the clothing and what not hadn't grown mold on it.

"Screw this," I said, refusing to touch the box. I walked over to Miss Anderson's office, which was now pretty much empty. The only people in there were Briana, Jerod, and another sophomore named Charlotte, Char, Leigh (Most people just called her Charli because her nickname and last name together made "Charli." I know, so witty). Briana was complaing about some freshman that weren't respecting her as Drum Major and Jerod was looking at the many shelves of music that were on the walls of Miss Anderson's office. Miss Anderson, meanwhile, was fixing what looked like Charli's saxophone with a screwdriver.

"And then there's this other one that doesn't even bother with rolling their feet. I mean, come on," Briana said, crossing her arms peevishly. "It's not like they're being forced to be in marching band. It IS optional."

Charli and I caught each other's and we exchanged a roll of the eyes. Jerod, meanwhile, sighed loudly from where he was looking at music.

"Uh huh," Miss Anderson said, obviously not listening. "Well, Charli, try this out. It should hold for now, but I might have to take it in to get it fixed. It looks like one of your screws was stripped."

"Okay," Charli said, taking the saxophone and clipping it back onto her neck strap. "See you on the field, Jerod," she said before leaving the room. She smiled at me as she left. Charli and Jerod, from what I knew from eavesdropping, were a "thing." They had been, I guess, since the beginning of the summer or so. Everyone pretty much had their money set on the two of them going out sooner or later, but neither of them had made the first move.

"Jill, what can I do for you?" Miss Anderson asked.

"I can't find my field charts. Any chance you found them?" I asked, grinning cheekilly. Jerod turned around and smirked at me.

"Good job," he said.

"Actually, I found these by the percussion closet," Miss Anderson said, pulling out my folder from the bottom of the mess that was her desk.

"Thank you, SO much," I said, taking them from her.

"That would be five bucks," Miss Anderson said, holding out her hand.

"I'll just buy you some Subway," I said, throwing her a smile.

"Oh, she knows you well," Jerod said.

"Anyway, Miss Anderson," Briana started again, obviously not to pleased with the change of subject.

"Briana, they're freshmen," Miss Anderson said, waving her hand dismissively as she got to her feet and picked up her keys. "They'll learn eventually."

I turned on my heel and hurried down to the percussion closet. My drum, Stanley, as I had named it, and the second drum were still sitting in there. Gwen, the person that played the second bass, was in Concert Band, and not Wind Ensemble, so naturally her drum was still there. I quickly put the harness on the drum and I slid it onto my shoulders. I balanced my folder and my mallets between the harness and the drum and I started out the door as Miss Anderson was shuffling Jerod and Briana out of her office (Briana was still complaining about freshmen).

I walked out of the school and began to walk over to the field. But, of course, I approached the slope that led down to a small field that seperated the school from the woods. The slope wasn't that high, but it was steep and I happened to be wearing sandals. Suddenly, the whole "appropriate footwear" idea seemed to make a whole lot more sense. I looked over my shoulder and, sure enough, Aaron had already left with the other percussion equipment.

"Great..." I muttered under my breath as I began to slowly ease my way down.

I heard the door open by the band office and I could indistinctly hear Briana's voice (ten bucks says she was complaining still) and the beep of Miss Anderson's car unlocking. I heard two car doors opening and Jerod said something. I turned around to see him walking towards me. 'Figures...,' I thought.

"Need some help?" Jerod asked.

"I'm kinda paranoid since the fall," I said with a smirk.

"Don't blame you," Jerod said, giving me a look. "Do you want me to carry it?"

"Are you serious?" I asked, already feeling the harness dig into my back.

"Why not?" Jerod asked, glancing over his shoulder. "Miss Anderson and Briana are long gone anyway." He was right, I noticed. They had already taken off towards the field.

"All right," I said, slipping the drum off of my shoulders and setting it on the ground. I watched as he put on the drum and stood up. I noticed then, somehow for the first time, that he towered over me. Seriously. This guy seemed to be a giant compared to my 5 foot 6.

"What?" he asked, noticing me looking at him.

"You're tall," I said, pointing out the obvious.

"6 foot 3," he said, nodding down the slope. "How do we accomplish going down this?"

"Are you serious? 6 foot 3? Holy crap," I said, slightly shocked. "Are you taller than Aaron?"

"Yeah, I'm the youngest, yet the tallest," Jerod said. "So, the hill. How do we go down it?"



"I have no idea," I said. "I always get a ride in the truck with Aaron."

"Great," Jerod said. "Okay, I'll try this." He started to walk down it, slowly, as I ran down the hill. I always got a strange rush doing this. Don't ask.

"Come on, let's go," I said to Jerod, watching the mellophone player, Jack, turn onto the trail.

"I'd like to see you do this," Jerod said, walking down the rest of the hill onto flat ground.

"No, I'll save that for the over exuberant Drum Major," I said, crossing my arms.

"What can I say? I'm a nice guy," Jerod said.

"You can call it that," I said, tilting my head and looking up at him.

"What else would you call it?" Jerod asked.

"Torture. You know what Sharon is going to say when we get down to the field?" I asked him. Sharon was the first bass drum and was the only full-time percussionist. Gwen normally plays flute, Laura plays oboe, and I play clarinet.

"What is Sharon going to say to us, Jill?" Jerod asked, pretending to be fascinated.

"First she's going to ask why you're carrying my drum. Then she's going to say, 'Jill, what are you going to do at the parade? Jerod can't carry your drum, you know,' " I said.

"You speak from experience?" Jerod asked.

"Yep. Tom carried my drum once and I got that lecture," I said. Tom played the tenor saxophone.

"I pity you," Jerod said.

"You should," I said. "After all, I'm such a loser."

"Yep, you loser," Jerod said. And thus sparked the birth of the name-calling of "loser" in my friendship with Jerod Leonard.

"Thank you for degrading my self esteem a little more," I said, putting a hand to my heart.

"Anytime," Jerod said. "So, tell me about yourself."

"Jerod, I'm ashamed," I said as we turned onto the trail that led to the field. "You call yourself a Drum Major and you don't even know about me."

"And you know about me?" Jerod asked.

"That's besides the point," I said, with a smile. "So, enlighten me."

"What do you want to know?" Jerod asked.

"Do you have any siblings other than Aaron?" I asked.

"I have three older brothers. There's Aaron and Chad, the twins, and Mike."

"Aren't you lucky," I said, then realized who he was talking about. "Chad LEONARD?"

"The one and only," Jerod said, rolling his eyes.

"Wow, I had the hugest crush on him for, like, two days my freshman year," I said, nodding to myself.

"I'm probably not the person you want to tell this to," Jerod said. "Seeing as I'm his younger brother, you know."

"Ah, good point," I said.

"What about you?" Jerod asked. "Any siblings?"

"Just my younger brother, Matt. He's six," I said. "A pain in the neck, too."

"Haha, you're the oldest," Jerod said. "I pity you again. Loser."

"I am NOT a loser!" I protested.

"But you just said so yourself that you were one," Jerod said.

"Once again that's besides the point," I said as we approached the field.

"Sure," Jerod said. "Oh, there's Sharon..."

"Jill, why is Jerod wearing your drum?" she asked.

"Sharon, you should've seen her. It looked like she was going to roll down the hill by the school," Jerod said. "Besides, Aaron had already left and we don't need anymore accidents."

"Yeah," I said, sounding stupid.

"What are you going to do at the parades?" Sharon said. "Jerod can't wear your drum for you." She did an about face and walked over towards the others.

"See?" I said under my breath. "Thanks, though."

"No problem," Jerod said, unstrapping. "In fact, anything to piss her off."

"There's the true Drum Major attitude I've heard so much about," I said with a smirk, putting my drum on.

~~~

Author's Note: Just so you know, Shelby and Lena will be featured more soon. I'm just doing this in order (somewhat) of how it actually happened. So, there's a couple more chapters before Shelby is more featured. Also, "Jerod" and I do actually call each other loser all the time... It's strange. Thanks for the reviews! Leave some more, okay?