"I have good news concerning the parade!" Mrs. Conrad said to her
assembled students.
"Are we not marching?" someone asked hopefully. That somebody was named Kimmy Fjsdfuiosufjkshfjhaskfljjd. He heralded from somewhere in the South Pacific. He spoke English quite well, but nobody could pronounce his last name, so they just called him Kimmy F. He was a stocky boy with a somewhat dark complexion and dark brown hair. Nobody knew his eye color. They couldn't get close enough to tell as there was always a constant, unpleasant odor hanging around him. He was the school's only male flute player. He wasn't all that great, but nobody wished to tell him so. This was not because they cared if his feelings would be hurt, they just didn't want to open their mouths within a twenty foot radius of him. As was said, he had a nasty smell about him. Okay, now that a whole meaningless paragraph has been devoted to a character who is not all that important, shall we continue? You might want to refer back to the top in case you forgot what was being said.
"No, we are still marching!" Mrs. Conrad said slightly annoyed. "But I have decided, after much consideration, that the percussion is to be marching with us!" There was slightly more cheer after this news was revealed. The band knew they sounded like death without the drums. Everything would be okay again. Indeed, the only person who showed distress at this news was Knat. After Mrs. Conrad, dismissed the rest of the band, he came up to her, a frown evident on his bandaged face.
"Madam, why are you doing this? You know with their drumsticks the percussionists wield a power greater than your own!"
"Of course I know that!" Mrs. Conrad hissed. "But I have everything worked out. With the percussionists safely away from Egarots Moor on the day of the parade, there is no chance that they can pull another little stunt like they did the other day." Knat nodded and winced. His head was very painful.
"But Madam, what about the sticks?"
"I have special pre-ordered all matching black sticks!" She said satisfied. "They can be used to play the drums, but they hold no power. I am always one step ahead. Luke, I know what you are planning..." She went on in the all knowing voice for some time, before she pulled back to the present location. The sun was beginning to set. For all involved, time was running out.
"So all of a sudden we're in the parade?!" Luke asked panicked. He had called another percussionists meeting right after Marco LeighMon had come back with the news. Marco nodded grimly.
"She suspects us," Piped Koil. He had been glum lately. It had been about five days since he had learned that his manly attributes were completely useless for anything other than bathroom needs, and he was taking it very hard.
"How can she possibly suspect us?" Luke challenged desperately. "We have been nothing but good little percussion slaves around her."
"There is only one way she can know all we are doing." Said a small blonde boy named Miguel Picante.(Yeah, his mother was Swedish and his father Spanish or something. Bear with me)
"How's that?" Marco asked nervously.
"Simple," Miguel retorted. "One of us is a spy." The mood grew very tense as all of the fifteen-or-so drummers looked around at all the others, sizing each other up, forming a list of suspects.
"Well, that's no good!" Luke exclaimed. "All this is going to achieve is suspicion. Unless there is any evidence of spying, we're going to assume that's not the case." Miguel shrugged.
"Okay, if you want Darnoc to take over the world..."
"Yo! I am the head drummer here!"
"How so?"
"I...Have...The...TriToms!"(dunno if its spelled right) The rest of the section nodded in understanding. "So, that done, we need to focus on how we're gonna crash a parade we're already in." Silence was the answer...until,
"We could steal our real drumsticks and paint them black," Koil responded.
"Oh yeah! That's a great idea! DO WE HAVE BLACK PAINT?!" Luke was starting to lose patience. And hope.
"Why don't we just stop the meeting for now, and we'll think of a brilliant plan some time unexpected." Miguel spoke again. Luke took his face from his hands.
"But the parade is in three days!" He said hopelessly.
"Trust me," Miguel said soothingly.
"Yeah I guess." Luke stood up to his full height, which added up to about two more feet than Miguel. Then he removed his shirt to go to bed. The other guys tried hard not to look in jealousy. Except Koil, who did nothing to hide his glare. Luke was added with another worry. A bitter percussionist was very difficult to deal with, and if there was ever a bitter percussionist, it was Koil.
"I am so good!" Abbe crowed after perfectly executing a slow motion somersault.
"Lovely job," Aiden praised. A few yards off, Jaz was working on jumping while doing high kicks. He was getting a pretty good hang of this as well. He did a lot of karate, so he was well off. "Well, that's enough for one day," She continued. "You've got to practice your instruments. That's going to be the most crucial part in the battle you know."
"I have a question," Abbe began. "Will Guinievere and Cassie be playing with us or will we be alone?"
"You'll all be playing together," Aiden answered.
"Will we see each other?"
"Shadows only. Well, maybe shadow isn't the right word. More like very transparent, coloured replicas of the people you know." Abbe nodded, and made her way towards the camp that was set up beneath the sky. Jaz followed. As they began to put together their instruments, Abbe voiced a question that had been bothering her for several days.
"Is your name really Jaz?" Jaz winced. He might have known this would come up. He took a deep breath and turned to face her.
"No. My full name's Jasper Aran Zimri. Note the initials." It took Abbe a second of deep contemplation. "J.....A.....Z....Oooooh I get it! Jaz! How very clever!" She gave a high pitched laugh, punched herself in the chest, and resumed attaching her mouthpiece to the main part of her instrument. Warm up took all of two seconds, before they took out their sheet music. The song was once that they had played at least years Holiday Concert. The Hallelujah Chorus by Handel. It was the only difficult song they had ever played that still sounded cool, and so they played it. For about an hour they practiced, occasionally talking in between major screw ups. It eventually grew dark to see, but Abbe was quite pleased wit herself. Out of all the times they had played it through, she had only messed up about fifteen times. Jaz/Jasper had never messed up because he was the best saxophone player in the world. Unfortunately, it was not really he who mattered. Jaz knew this, so he tried to coach Abbe as much as he could. Abbe would later admit that she learned much better by him than the opressive, nitpicky, screaming, cussing, temper tantrum method that was Conrad's excuse for teaching. It soon becam too dark to distinguish an A from a C, and they had to call it quits. Abbe felt that she had improved immensely as she lay beneath the stars. Several feet off, she could hear Jaz breathing, and she knew that he was in the peaceful oblivion that was slumber. As she looked at the pale profile of his sleeping face, she felt that perhaps they had a chance after all.
Far away from anything abnormal or dangerous, a young woman slept. She had sixteen years to her name, and she had lived each and every one of them to their fullest. Little did she know how perilous the situation of her friends had become. She was here on holiday with her parents and her younger sister. Though she had been here before, she found the sheer age of this country overwhelming. Her father had surprised her with this trip. She had known her friends were coming here for a band trip, and that they were to march in the St. Patricks Day parade. Then suddenly, she had been told that she would be able to see them perform. The parade was little more than two days away, and she was very eager to see the looks on her friends' faces when they saw her here, camera in hand. She smiled in her sleep at the thought. A draft from a window previously closed woke her. She opened her eyes blearily, and saw a little girl standing near the foot of the bed.
"Do not say a word," she spoke softly so as not to awaken the others. "You have been to many strange lands, not knowing what it is you seek. I have seen you from afar, ever knowing that this day would come..."
"Who are you?" the one who had been sleeping asked. If she had been any more awake, she would have awoken her family, and seen what this was all about by lamplight, but she was still a bit out of it.
"I am Aiden of Yawnoc." The other nodded as if she had no questions whatsoever.
"I'm..." The other had no chance to respond.
"There is no time Allysson! We must hurry! Get up, there is no time for delay," Aiden interrupted.
"How did you know my name?" Allysson asked baffled as she stumbled from the warmth of her bed.
"No time!" Aiden hissed tossing Allysson a pair of bunny slippers to wear on her feet.
"What about my parents?"
"Worry not!" Aiden assured. "Your father knew that this day would come."
"Why? How?"
"He's a teacher! They are all united against Darnoc...well, at least most are."
"Who?"
"Oh, the Home Ec. teacher is evil, everybody knows that..." They were hurrying down the hallway now.
"No, I know that teacher is evil....I meant, who on earth is Darnoc?"
"Evil sorceress. No time to explain now. Your friends are in great danger."
"Who? Abbe? Cassie?"
"No! Well, yes they are, but they're not the ones I'm worried about."
"What's the matter?" Her question echoed into the deserted parking lot.
"I'll explain while we drive."
"Drive what?" Allysson's question was answered when Aiden pointed to a shiny, red sports car which was parked very crookedly. "You can't drive that!" She exclaimed. Aiden's face had taken on a rather evil smile.
"Watch me," she replied pulling a key ring from a pocket in her tattered, brown dress.
"But you can't be any older than nine!" Allysson protested as she got into the car.
"Nine and a half," Aiden muttered. "Buckle up."
"Are we not marching?" someone asked hopefully. That somebody was named Kimmy Fjsdfuiosufjkshfjhaskfljjd. He heralded from somewhere in the South Pacific. He spoke English quite well, but nobody could pronounce his last name, so they just called him Kimmy F. He was a stocky boy with a somewhat dark complexion and dark brown hair. Nobody knew his eye color. They couldn't get close enough to tell as there was always a constant, unpleasant odor hanging around him. He was the school's only male flute player. He wasn't all that great, but nobody wished to tell him so. This was not because they cared if his feelings would be hurt, they just didn't want to open their mouths within a twenty foot radius of him. As was said, he had a nasty smell about him. Okay, now that a whole meaningless paragraph has been devoted to a character who is not all that important, shall we continue? You might want to refer back to the top in case you forgot what was being said.
"No, we are still marching!" Mrs. Conrad said slightly annoyed. "But I have decided, after much consideration, that the percussion is to be marching with us!" There was slightly more cheer after this news was revealed. The band knew they sounded like death without the drums. Everything would be okay again. Indeed, the only person who showed distress at this news was Knat. After Mrs. Conrad, dismissed the rest of the band, he came up to her, a frown evident on his bandaged face.
"Madam, why are you doing this? You know with their drumsticks the percussionists wield a power greater than your own!"
"Of course I know that!" Mrs. Conrad hissed. "But I have everything worked out. With the percussionists safely away from Egarots Moor on the day of the parade, there is no chance that they can pull another little stunt like they did the other day." Knat nodded and winced. His head was very painful.
"But Madam, what about the sticks?"
"I have special pre-ordered all matching black sticks!" She said satisfied. "They can be used to play the drums, but they hold no power. I am always one step ahead. Luke, I know what you are planning..." She went on in the all knowing voice for some time, before she pulled back to the present location. The sun was beginning to set. For all involved, time was running out.
"So all of a sudden we're in the parade?!" Luke asked panicked. He had called another percussionists meeting right after Marco LeighMon had come back with the news. Marco nodded grimly.
"She suspects us," Piped Koil. He had been glum lately. It had been about five days since he had learned that his manly attributes were completely useless for anything other than bathroom needs, and he was taking it very hard.
"How can she possibly suspect us?" Luke challenged desperately. "We have been nothing but good little percussion slaves around her."
"There is only one way she can know all we are doing." Said a small blonde boy named Miguel Picante.(Yeah, his mother was Swedish and his father Spanish or something. Bear with me)
"How's that?" Marco asked nervously.
"Simple," Miguel retorted. "One of us is a spy." The mood grew very tense as all of the fifteen-or-so drummers looked around at all the others, sizing each other up, forming a list of suspects.
"Well, that's no good!" Luke exclaimed. "All this is going to achieve is suspicion. Unless there is any evidence of spying, we're going to assume that's not the case." Miguel shrugged.
"Okay, if you want Darnoc to take over the world..."
"Yo! I am the head drummer here!"
"How so?"
"I...Have...The...TriToms!"(dunno if its spelled right) The rest of the section nodded in understanding. "So, that done, we need to focus on how we're gonna crash a parade we're already in." Silence was the answer...until,
"We could steal our real drumsticks and paint them black," Koil responded.
"Oh yeah! That's a great idea! DO WE HAVE BLACK PAINT?!" Luke was starting to lose patience. And hope.
"Why don't we just stop the meeting for now, and we'll think of a brilliant plan some time unexpected." Miguel spoke again. Luke took his face from his hands.
"But the parade is in three days!" He said hopelessly.
"Trust me," Miguel said soothingly.
"Yeah I guess." Luke stood up to his full height, which added up to about two more feet than Miguel. Then he removed his shirt to go to bed. The other guys tried hard not to look in jealousy. Except Koil, who did nothing to hide his glare. Luke was added with another worry. A bitter percussionist was very difficult to deal with, and if there was ever a bitter percussionist, it was Koil.
"I am so good!" Abbe crowed after perfectly executing a slow motion somersault.
"Lovely job," Aiden praised. A few yards off, Jaz was working on jumping while doing high kicks. He was getting a pretty good hang of this as well. He did a lot of karate, so he was well off. "Well, that's enough for one day," She continued. "You've got to practice your instruments. That's going to be the most crucial part in the battle you know."
"I have a question," Abbe began. "Will Guinievere and Cassie be playing with us or will we be alone?"
"You'll all be playing together," Aiden answered.
"Will we see each other?"
"Shadows only. Well, maybe shadow isn't the right word. More like very transparent, coloured replicas of the people you know." Abbe nodded, and made her way towards the camp that was set up beneath the sky. Jaz followed. As they began to put together their instruments, Abbe voiced a question that had been bothering her for several days.
"Is your name really Jaz?" Jaz winced. He might have known this would come up. He took a deep breath and turned to face her.
"No. My full name's Jasper Aran Zimri. Note the initials." It took Abbe a second of deep contemplation. "J.....A.....Z....Oooooh I get it! Jaz! How very clever!" She gave a high pitched laugh, punched herself in the chest, and resumed attaching her mouthpiece to the main part of her instrument. Warm up took all of two seconds, before they took out their sheet music. The song was once that they had played at least years Holiday Concert. The Hallelujah Chorus by Handel. It was the only difficult song they had ever played that still sounded cool, and so they played it. For about an hour they practiced, occasionally talking in between major screw ups. It eventually grew dark to see, but Abbe was quite pleased wit herself. Out of all the times they had played it through, she had only messed up about fifteen times. Jaz/Jasper had never messed up because he was the best saxophone player in the world. Unfortunately, it was not really he who mattered. Jaz knew this, so he tried to coach Abbe as much as he could. Abbe would later admit that she learned much better by him than the opressive, nitpicky, screaming, cussing, temper tantrum method that was Conrad's excuse for teaching. It soon becam too dark to distinguish an A from a C, and they had to call it quits. Abbe felt that she had improved immensely as she lay beneath the stars. Several feet off, she could hear Jaz breathing, and she knew that he was in the peaceful oblivion that was slumber. As she looked at the pale profile of his sleeping face, she felt that perhaps they had a chance after all.
Far away from anything abnormal or dangerous, a young woman slept. She had sixteen years to her name, and she had lived each and every one of them to their fullest. Little did she know how perilous the situation of her friends had become. She was here on holiday with her parents and her younger sister. Though she had been here before, she found the sheer age of this country overwhelming. Her father had surprised her with this trip. She had known her friends were coming here for a band trip, and that they were to march in the St. Patricks Day parade. Then suddenly, she had been told that she would be able to see them perform. The parade was little more than two days away, and she was very eager to see the looks on her friends' faces when they saw her here, camera in hand. She smiled in her sleep at the thought. A draft from a window previously closed woke her. She opened her eyes blearily, and saw a little girl standing near the foot of the bed.
"Do not say a word," she spoke softly so as not to awaken the others. "You have been to many strange lands, not knowing what it is you seek. I have seen you from afar, ever knowing that this day would come..."
"Who are you?" the one who had been sleeping asked. If she had been any more awake, she would have awoken her family, and seen what this was all about by lamplight, but she was still a bit out of it.
"I am Aiden of Yawnoc." The other nodded as if she had no questions whatsoever.
"I'm..." The other had no chance to respond.
"There is no time Allysson! We must hurry! Get up, there is no time for delay," Aiden interrupted.
"How did you know my name?" Allysson asked baffled as she stumbled from the warmth of her bed.
"No time!" Aiden hissed tossing Allysson a pair of bunny slippers to wear on her feet.
"What about my parents?"
"Worry not!" Aiden assured. "Your father knew that this day would come."
"Why? How?"
"He's a teacher! They are all united against Darnoc...well, at least most are."
"Who?"
"Oh, the Home Ec. teacher is evil, everybody knows that..." They were hurrying down the hallway now.
"No, I know that teacher is evil....I meant, who on earth is Darnoc?"
"Evil sorceress. No time to explain now. Your friends are in great danger."
"Who? Abbe? Cassie?"
"No! Well, yes they are, but they're not the ones I'm worried about."
"What's the matter?" Her question echoed into the deserted parking lot.
"I'll explain while we drive."
"Drive what?" Allysson's question was answered when Aiden pointed to a shiny, red sports car which was parked very crookedly. "You can't drive that!" She exclaimed. Aiden's face had taken on a rather evil smile.
"Watch me," she replied pulling a key ring from a pocket in her tattered, brown dress.
"But you can't be any older than nine!" Allysson protested as she got into the car.
"Nine and a half," Aiden muttered. "Buckle up."