Disclaimer: grins Hey everybody! I'm just sitting on my bed...trying not to write the disclaimer. Racetrack's trying to get me to write it but I'm not gonna. I don't wanna write it. (grins at Race) You can't make me. (smirks) He's glaring at me.

Race: Write dat disclaimer right now! You'll be lawsuited if ya don't.

Pff, like you care. Anyways, him and the others have been nagging at me to update this thing. Not that I didn't want too. Don't frown so much, Race, your face will stick that way then we'll have to get a plastic surgeon to fix it and I really don't wanna go through all that. (smirks)

Race: growling Gimme tha computer, I'll write da disclaimer. (grabs at laptop)

Hey, stop it! I'll write it, okay?! Gosh, newsies are so impatient. Anyways, I don't own the Newsies. More likely they own me!

Race: You got dat right, goilly!

Jack: (peeks in the door) What're you two doin? (looks at the computer) Hey, youse writing tha story, ain't ya? (yells out the door) Hey, Daydream's writing da story!

Newsies: YAY!! (stampede for Daydream's room)

Aww, darn it! (is surrounded by smelly newsies who are sitting on her bed) Don't y'all ever shower?

Newsies: Nope!

Le sigh! Alright, these are all the leader peoples! :

Sections Leaders:

Trumpets-Blink

Sousaphones; Baritones -Skittery

French Horn-Daydream

Trombones-Mush

Flutes; Piccolos- Swinger

Clarinets- Zodiac

Bari Sax- Spoon

Tenor Sax- Mob (Racetrack has now officially been demoted to just Alto Sax Section Leader Race is officially angry)

Alto Sax-Racetrack

Pit-Itey

Drum Majors:

Major-Jack Kelly

Major-David

Majorette-Fox

Band Captains:

Brass-Specs

Woodwind-Emotions (she's being bumped up to 12th grader, k? Hope you don't mind.)

Color Guard-Irish and Bookworm

Percussion-Spot

And the Bandies! I love Bandies...

Aqua-clarinet

Spitball-clarinet

Hornet-flute

Phoenix-flute

Sparks-flute

Rose-flute

Riff- alto saxophone

AJ- alto saxaphone

De- tenor sax

Shaddup (Shad)- trumpet

Nova-trumpet

Dashcon- baritone

Shock- sousaphone

Obsession-snare

Jinx-snare

Skam- cymbal

Nympho- quads

Bookworm-colorguard

Braids-colorguard

Maniac (Mani)- colorguard (Day to Lute: They do this weirdo mix between the jazz-running and marching, it's quite funny! )

CC IS CLOSED!!! I don't think I could possibly write any more people in here and survive! Don't worry if your charry doesn't show up in the next couple of chapters. These are mainly just intros of the section leaders, captains, and drum majors. No worries! Band camp starts in a few more chapters; this is just freshmen and leaders. Also, I set the story in North Carolina because that's where I live and I love it! And I don't know how other states conduct their marching band competitions or anything. The school is fashioned after mine for the most part. Also, the weather and other conditions here add for more mischief!

Situated between four little towns, Pine Needle High was a typical sized school for the small North Carolina county it presided in. At a thousand or so students, it was classed at 3A and proud of its status as a School of Excellence. The one-story building had been designed in the early 60's when no one had any idea that the local population would get a sudden jump-start of people moving in to enjoy the lazy life North Carolinians lead. The tight hallways were built into confusing figure eights; more than one student had lost their way to class because of them. In front of the school, two playing fields in a long row took up the space between road and the school, cut in half by the driveway leading to the front of the school. In a diagonal from the right corner of the school and up a short, fenced path was the student parking lot. Behind the parking lot and beside the school was the tennis court and baseball diamond. The forest that lined their edges was a favorite make-out spot for hormone crazed teenagers. A long walk across the parking lot would take you to the William MacKinnon football stadium that was affectionately called Loser's Square by the students. The entire campus was a reminder of the wilderness that surrounded it, flower beds and bushes placed in an aesthetically pleasing arrangement along the outer walls. Small courtyards sporting little streams and miniature trees were built between hallways, separating different parts of the building and adding to the confusion. Today, the lawn stretching from the entry driveway in front of the school to the school itself was covered with dozens of duffle bags and other kinds of suitcases. Almost forty young-looking students were milling around, chatting excitedly to their friends.

Today was the day the freshmen and band leaders were leaving for freshmen marching camp. It was also basically the first time the 9th had met their section leaders. 10th graders and up had been having marching meetings every month since summer let out, but freshmen were excused until marching camp. It was an old tradition that no one felt like breaking, no matter how stupid it sometimes seemed. Only drums and colorguard had let the freshmen come to meetings since their meetings were actually sectionals. Instead of mingling, the two groups were trying to stay as far away from each other as possible. Trying to separate themselves from the freshmen scene, a group of upperclassmen were sitting around and on the wooden parking lot fence.

"God, I hate freshman," Skittery snapped as he glowered at the care-free youths that kept shooting glances their way. He was trying to decide between ignoring them and giving them the birdie. The birdie was slowly wining.

"You don't mean that, Skitts. They're just enthusiastic," Mush said, grinning. A high-pitched trumpet blast made the group wince. "Reaaallly enthusiastic."

"I don't do enthusiasm," Skittery muttered darkly. Mush rolled his eyes. Skitts was a lost cause.

"I foresee headaches in your future," Zodiac said in a dry voice. She had just gotten back from the beach the day before and being shipped right off to freshman marching camp wasn't sitting well with her. Her pale skin hadn't even tanned so much as a shade; instead Zodiac was stuck with the light pink tone of faded sunburn.

"I think that prediction could go for all of us, Zo," Racetrack quipped. He was staring at a boy who was running around with his saxophone up under his arm like a football. Race was half expecting the kid to chuck it with full force at the flirty little girl he was chasing.

"You might want to stop him before he gives your section a bad name, Race," Swinger suggested as she followed Racetrack's line of sight. She was leaning against the fence Daydream and Skittery were sitting on.

"Why don't you get on to your flute player he's chasing? It's her fault," Race told her. Swinger frowned at him. She was the piccolo/flute section leader and was very proud of her section.

"How do you know that's a flute player? It might just be another one of your saxophones."

"No saxophone dresses like that! Not in my part of the section, anyway. The only people I know that wear that kind of clothes are flutes and a couple clarinets."

"Is that supposed to mean that you think all flute players dress like sluts? Because you know that would include me." Swinger had a dangerous look to her demeanor like a cougar about to attack. Race gave her a sly grin.

"I didn't say all of them. Just the majority."

"Hey, here comes Jack!" Kid Blink exclaimed before there could be bloodshed between the two. Sure enough, Jack's beautiful red Mustang was flying down the road. It came to a screeching halt right beside the lawn, startling the freshman who jumped as the older students laughed. Two people climbed out of the front while another slide over the side of the convertible. They walked over to the others under the stare of thirty-odd awed freshmen. A few of the braver 9th graders tentatively walked towards the car, complimenting its beauty.

"Touch the car and you'll all die painful deaths," Jack threatened, giving them a dangerous look. They all took a step away from the Mustang.

"Hey everybody!" exclaimed Itey as he plopped down in the grass between Racetrack and Zodiac. The pit section leader stretched out and began plucking up blades of grass to casually throw on to Zodiac's leg. Right behind him was Jack and Fox, a short girl with reddish-brown hair.

"Itey, you aren't any better than the freshmen," Fox said, a grin on her face. She was the drum majorette this year, working with both David and Jack as student directors. Her on-going war with her brother, Jinx who played the snare drum, had escalated drastically over the summer because of the secret show information. She eyed the freshmen multitude who looked like someone had fed them too much sugar. "Why is there so many this year?"

"Because Mr. T doesn't know how to say 'no' to their puppy faces," Jack told her, mimicking their puppy faces himself. Fox shoved him away, chuckling as she did so.

"It isn't that hard," Blink stated with a shrug. He looked pointedly at Daydream who was sitting across from him up on the fence. "No." Daydream raised her eyebrows. "See, that was easy."

"I'm not a freshman, you goofball."

"You sure do look like one." Blink replied, throwing up his arms against the impending attack. Daydream leapt off the fence just like she was supposed to, landing square on the trumpet player. She rolled away and glared at him.

"Just because I'm short doesn't mean I'm a freshman," she said, pulling a fallen pine needle out of her hair.

"I don't think your short, Day," Itey piped with an encouraging tone. Zodiac had brushed all the grass off her leg and onto him. Daydream smiled, her mood changing entirely.

"You don't?"

"No, you're more like vertically challenged. Yep, that definitely sounds better." The group laughed as the junior grumped to herself. A rumbling sound soon diverted their attention. They looked up to see two big white and blue activity buses roll into the driveway. Jack sighed.

"I guess we better go play babysitter." Grumbling, the upperclassmen got up and made their way over to the freshmen. Instructions were given out to be followed to a T while the other band leaders slowly appeared on the scene. Irish, one of the two color guard captains, made a show of almost wrecking her prized 1957 Chevy into Jack's Mustang. It was an amusing sight to see Jack fall down on his knees and cover his eyes in terror as Irish clung to her steering wheel, petrified. Everyone had a good laugh at it. The drums had to be loaded onto Spot's truck as soon as he got there. All percussion instruments were going this week even though most of the drumline wouldn't come to camp until the next week. Everyone's bags had to be loaded into the smaller of the two band trailers, the giant one all set to bring the older students stuff next week. Things weren't going so well with the loading process...

"Okay freshies, let's try to make an orderly pile with all your useless garbage, okay?" Mob, a tall senior with jet black hair, was practically screaming, his hands cupped around his mouth for a make-shift megaphone. He was standing up in the back of the trailer, glaring down like a dictator at all the freshman. He brought his hands down to his side and did the Peter Pan stance. Spoon, the slightly shorter girl who was sitting on the edge of the trailer, grinned up at him.

"Useless garbage? You must not be planning on making many friends this year," she joked. Spoon and Mob made up the older pair of the three saxophone section leaders, both topping Racetrack's marching band experience by a year. They really liked lording it over him too.

"Yes, useless garbage. They don't need half of it anyway," he said imperiously as he watched the underclassmen put all their suitcases and duffle bags to one side. A short boy beside the trailer sighed heavily to get their attention. Spoon narrowed her bright blue eyes.

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering if you two were going to sit their and gab all day or if you were going to put my stuff on the trailer." The both seniors stared at the uppity kid. He had on a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses that he obviously thought made him look like he was off the movie Top Gun or something. Mob frowned at him. He wasn't in favor of freshman anyway.

"You're not going anywhere soon, are you?"

"No, but this stuff is getting heavy." Mob glanced at the horde of bags the boy had brought.

"What the hell is all of that?" He demanded as he crossed his arms across his chest. The nearby freshmen girls all stared at him, their eyes widening. Might as well, Mob was quite hot in his Italian goodness. It was a joke between all the band students that you had to be Italian to be in the saxophone section of the band. And, for the most part, it was true. Race and Mob often threatened that they were going to throw Spoon out since she wasn't 'Italian enough for their tastes.' Down on the ground the freshman was starting to get a neck cramp from having to look up at Mob.

"What does it look like? I thought high-schoolers were supposed to be smart..." Spoon grabbed at Mob as he jumped out of the trailer, a fierce look on his face. The crowd of students moved back as Mob stepped up to the freshman and poked him in the chest.

"Look, you little jackass..."

"Don't cuss around the freshmen, Mob," Spoon scolded in a bored tone. All of the female leaders had decided that the upperclassmen should try to set some sort of a rule where freshmen weren't exposed to cussing all the time. So far almost every guy there had broken the rule more than once. Mob gave her a half-amused look before rounding back on the freshman.

"Alright then, you little punk," he looked to Spoon for approval. Grinning, the girl gave him the go-ahead. "I don't take crap," a sharp glance at Spoon who was smirking, "like this sitting down. You should show some darn," He looked at the girl again who nodded, barely able to contain her laughter. "...respect for your elders. And get some patience." He moved back from the freshman. "What instrument do you play anyway, punk?"

"Tenor sax," he mumbled. Spoon burst out in uncontrollable laughter as Mob stood there slack-jawed. She slid off the back of the trailer and stumbled towards Mob, falling against him she was laughing so hard.

"Ha! He's yours! That's great!" She tried to stop chuckling but it was hard for her to stop when she got going, especially it was something as ironic as this. The freshman looked confused and panicky at the same time.

"What is she talking about?" he asked as Spoon went back to the trailer and started loading bags. By that time, Racetrack had also appeared to help with loading. He tried to ask Spoon what was going on but the girl was too out of breath to explain. Mob grinned devilishly.

"You're in my section, Punk." The freshman took off the aviator glasses and stared up at Mob.

"Oh...so that would make you..."

"Your section leader."

"Oh...oh great."

In an effort to keep order on the buses, most of the section leaders and captains were going to ride with the 9th graders. The ones who weren't were being forced into taking their friends' "necessary for my existence" gear.

"Nothing else! I can't stuff anything else in this truck, guys, it just won't fit," Specs was trying to explain to Kid Blink, Emotions, and Mush. Emotions was trying to keep her grip on the TV/DVD player in her arms but it kept slipping.

"Specs, you have got to put this in there! I don't care how but I'm not going to take it on the bus, forget it," she exclaimed, propping the weight up on her knee. Specs rubbed at his face and looked into the bed of his truck. Maybe between Zodiac's paraffin wax machine and Swinger's over-sized stereo...

"I'll pull rank on you!" Emotions squealed as the TV almost fell out of her hands.

"Alright, alright, but only yours." He rolled his eyes as he took the TV from the girl's worn out arms. "My rank's the same as yours anyways."

"Oh...it is, isn't it?" Emotions let a grin play on her face as she blushed with embarrassment. She was the woodwind captain while Specs was the brass captain. Emotions rubbed her arms, trying to get the feeling to come back. "Whatever, at least my stuff's in." She walked off towards the buses, an excited skip to her step. Emotion's was feeding off the freshmen's adventurous feelings towards the whole camp deal so she was in a perky mood.

"And just what are we supposed to do with these?" Blink asked, motioning with his head towards the Xboxes in his and Mush's arms. Specs shrugged as he tried to squash the TV between the other things. If Skittery hadn't insisted that he had to bring his microwave and mini-fridge...

"Ask Jack or Irish," he suggested gruffly. The pair sped off in Irish's direction, brushing past freshman with practiced ease. The colorguard captain groaned when she saw them coming.

"Not more Xboxes! What are you guys going to with so many?" Irish motioned to her fully-packed trunk. Three Xboxes had already been shoved into along with some of the other girls' things. Mush grinned at her.

"Halo!" he exclaimed with an exuberant air, holding out his Xbox to her. She couldn't help but grin at him and his childlike happiness. Sighing, she took it and crammed it in with the others.

"You're talking about that game where you shoot everyone, right?" She turned around to find both boys nodding foolishly. "So you two, Skittery, Racetrack, and David all play this?"

"At the same time!" Mush chirped.

"Jack, Specs, Itey, Spot, and Mob too but they've didn't bring theirs cause we can hook up all the ones we already have so we can play each other in a death match of capture the flag in bloody gore mode!" Blink said in an excited rush as he handed Irish his Xbox. She stared for a second.

"That's...great?"

"It sure is!" The two boys shouted in unison. Irish chuckled as they walked off, pushing and pulling at each other. They were so insane. Bookworm, the other colorguard captain, appeared soon after they had left, her backpack slung over her shoulder. She eyed the contents of Irish's trunk with amusement.

"Halo?" she asked with a laugh. Irish rolled her eyes.

"What else?"

Jack: Is it ova?

Kid Blink: (smirks) I hope not, I'm in dis one a lot.

Mush: (reads story) Hey, me too! (starts pointing out his name to anyone who will look) See, I'm deah an' deah an' deah oh, look, I'm deah too!

Snipeshooter: I'm not in it at all! (wails) Why ain't I in tha story?!

(looks up from her laptop) Guys, I hate it when people read over my shoulder. You should know that by now. (tries to shoo nosy newsies away (hehe, nosy newsies! ))

Snipeshooter: (pouts) Why ain't I in tha story, Daydream?

Mush:...and deah...and deah...hey look, I think they're talkin' about me deah!

(grumbling) Snipes, you're young to be in this story. Mush, quit touching the computer screen! It's sensitive! (tries to protect computer from Mush)

Jack: Why's Mush in it more than I am?

Spot: (coming into room with a Coke and also looks over Day's shoulder since that seems to be a popular thing to do) Hey, I'm not in dis chapter enough. (glares at Daydream) A chapta ain't a chapta wit out Spot Conlon.

(shields her computer) No Coke! Not around the computer! And you are in the chapter! (scrolls up) Right there!

Spot: (grumbles)

Mush: (ecstatic) Look, I'm deah too!

Kid Blink: So it's not over?

(sighing) No, not by a long shot.

Snipeshooter: (whining) So why can't I be in it?

(about to kill newsies) GET OUT OF MY ROOM!!

Newsies: (all vacate with extreme speed except for Spot)

Spot: (scowling) Nobody orders Spot Conlon out of a room.

I'll order you out of the story!

Spot: (scowls darker) I'm leavin', but it isn't because you made me. I'm leavin' because I want to. (leaves)

(rolling her eyes) Man, they're so odd! Anyway, I want to thank everyone who sent in characters, they're all great! And really diverse! And wow, Lute, that was a TON of characters! Thanks again everybody!

Mush: (poking head back into room) So, when're ya gonna write da next chapta?

(pointing and shrieking) OUT, HEATHEN NEWSBOY!

Mush: Oo What?

Ugh... See ya in the next chapter! (jumps up to chase Mush out of the room)