Hi and welcome to chapter 3 of my newest fic! Yeah, I've decided to start writing this fic in the first person, because it was sort of sounding odd in the third person. Yeah, so you'll just have to deal with it. Oh yes, and people, please review. I like reviews. I like them a lot! So, yeah

Kayleena A. Carpenter

I reluctantly walked into Mr. Glock's office. The room was covered with posters of stupid rock bands from the eighties. A Lumpy couch sat next to one wall while Mr. Glock's desk sat on the other. I walked over to the couch and sat down. It was the most comfortable couch that I had ever sat on. Mr. Glock sat down at his desk.

"Ever since you won that scholastic 8 years ago, Miss Cecilia, every music educator within the state wanted nothing more than to have you in their band. You can't imagine the disappointment that we felt when you choose sports over music."

He paused

"Well, I'm......erm......sorry," I muttered, not knowing what else to say.

"No need for you to apologize, it was your choice. But now, Lady Fate has had her play in things and you have been thrown back into the musical world's hands."

I gave him a strange look.

"Basically, Now that you aren't able to participate in sports anymore, I think that you should join the band."

"But.....but.....Mr.Glock, I.....well, there aren't pianos in band! Plus, I haven't played in at least 3 years! I just wouldn't work!"

"Cecilia, do you know how to read music?"

"Well, um yeah."

"DO you know the order of the keys on the piano?"

"Yes, I did play piano when I was little." I said, to avoid any other future question.

"Well, then it's settled! You'll play the Marimba in the pit!"

"The what?"

"The Marimba! It's a keyboard instrument that is struck by a mallet to produce a rich, deep, colorful sound."

I could already tell that this guy was a little out there.

"I don't know, Mr. Glock. Isn't the marching season already almost over?"

You could tell that MR. Glock was amused by my clueless ness.

"Our First contest isn't for another week or two. You'll do fine! Practices are from 6 to 9 Monday through Friday and 8 to 4 on Saturday. See you there Cecilia!"

"But......but.....Mr.Glock," I said in the nicest way possible, "I really don't want to be in marching band!"

Just then, there was a knock on Mr.Glock's door.

"Come in!" He yelled.

The door opened and a boy walked in. He had light brown hair that came down to just above his eyes. He was tall, probably taller than me, and well....not half bad looking. He looked at me. He looked like he was going to say something, but he thought better of it.

"Mr.G, I just wanted you to know that I was in no way involved with the gong incident, I swear! You know that I wouldn't do something like that! Please believe me!"

"Its okay, Michael, I believe you, Calm down."

"I'm pretty sure I know who did it too, He said as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch. "I think that it was Katrina and Juliet. They where all giggling when I tried to ask them about it."

"It's not important right now, Michael."

"But still---"

"Michael!"

"Sorry, Mr. Glock."

"Well, anyways, I'm glad that you're here. Guess who I got to play Marimba for you?" Mr. Glock said a huge smile on his face.

"I dunno. Who?" replied Michael.

"It was a rhetorical question! Well, I would like you to meet Cecilia Davis, you're new Marimba player!"

His eyes light up.

"The girl that won the Greg T. Waltz scholarship when she was seven?"

"I was eight thank you very much!" I said, annoyed. I didn't know why these people where making such a big deal over some stupid award that I had won when I was a little kid.

Michael turned towards me.

"Hi," He outstretched his hand, "I'm Michael Stronnon and I'm going to be your section leader.

I shook his hand.

"Hi! My name is Cecilia Davis and you're not going to be my section leader because I'm not going be in marching band!" I said through gritted teeth, glaring at Mr. Glock.

Michael gave me a very annoyed look.

"Cecilia, you know that that it is a requirement of the school board that all students take at least a year of a fine arts course, right?" Mr.Glock said calmly.

"I was planning to take two-d arts next year," I said, smugly.

"You're wasting your talent!" Michael suddenly yelled, standing up from the lumpy couch. He looked flustered, even angry. His breathing was heavier. He turned to address Mr. Glock.

"Every kid that has ever played piano has wanted just an ounce of the taln that she had1 She..." He turned to face me again, his voice growing softer, "You have no idea how much disappointment I felt when I first saw you name on the sports page. I still remember what it said, 'Sunny Slopes' own Cecilia Davis has won the state Championship in Tennis in the 011 year old category. Apparently Cecilia, the winner of the much coveted Greg T. Waltz piano scholarship, has found a new area to excel in: Tennis' Yes, I remember it clearly. You may not know it, Cecilia, but the entire piano world mourned that day.

I must say that I was touched by his words. Michael was getting really upset about this. His cheeks where flushed and he was breathing a bit heavier than normal. His eyes where on me, silently pleading for me to do something. I really hadn't known how much influence I could have on a person that I hardly knew.

When I was 4 years old, I began taking piano lessons. I excelled at a surprising rate. By the time I was 6, I could play better than some kids who had been playing nearly twice as long as I had. My piano teacher began entering me in contests. I always did well in them, but it wasn't until my 8th birthday that I started winning every single contest that I was entered in. Soon, I became a celebrity of sorts in the world of pianists. They all wanted to be like me. Sometimes random people off the street would come up to me and ask for my autograph. The full affect of it all never really set in. I shrugged it all off. Two weeks after my eighth birthday, I won the Greg T. Waltz piano contest. The prize was an all expenses paid early admittance to the Greg T. Waltz academy of the arts. However, I decided not to go. The piano brought me no joy, no challenge. Tennis and my other sports did. I found that I was much happier playing tennis than I ever had been playing the piano. When tennis started eating up more and more of my schedule, I decided to drop piano altogether. Not once have a regretted that decision.

There was no way that I was going to become a slave of music again. There was absolutely no way that I was going to be in marching. I was getting ready to tell Michael; and Mr. Glock this, when I looked into Michael's eyes. They were a miraculous shade of hazel. They pleaded with me, tugged at my soul. He looked like a little lost puppy dog that had been left out in the rain by its uncaring owners.

I sighed deeply and impulsively said, "I guess I'll try to play the Marimba."

Both Michael and Mr. Glock's faces light up, Michael ran over to Mr. Glock and gave him a high five.

"I have Cecilia Davis in my pit playing marimba! I can't believe this!" Michael said. He walked over to me and held out his hand. I grabbed it, a bit confused. He shook my hand profusely as though I had just won the noble peace prize.

"Thank you, Cecilia, thank you!" He kept saying over and over.

I slid my hand out of his after a second, feeling a bit awkward.

"Um, I have to go to class now. I guess I'll....erm.... see you at practice tonight." I said, grabbing my book bag off of Mr. Glock's couch. I walked out of the office, catching a last glimpse of Michael's silly smile.