"Bye sweetie! Love you! See you in a few weeks!" my mom called from the rolled down window of
the car.
"Bye Mom! I love you too!" I yelled back waving madly. And then with a squeal of her tires
she was gone.
So here I am, I thought to myself as I wandered aimlessly around the crowded parking lot with
my two duffle bags, my trombone case, and my guitar. Man this place is a madhouse! Kids were
running around like chickens with their heads cut off. A frightened boy and girl were being
chased around by what appeared to be a crazy mob whooping like Indians on the warpath!
All of a sudden one of them stopped and pointed at me. "Hey guys, fresh meat!" The crowd of
boys began to approach me until one of them yelled, "Hey stop! She's not a freshman. She
doesn't have one of those cheesy nametags!"
"So?" someone called.
"So lay off her, dipshit." This came from the mouth of my original attacker. With grumbles
of protests the crowd dispersed except for two boys—the one that had initiated the attack
and the one that had saved me. Damn! Up close they were both hot as hell!
The initiator stepped forward to introduce himself. "I'm John-Michael, first chair trombone
and section leader. Sorry about that little mix-up. I didn't realize you weren't a
freshman."
"It's cool, but why were you chasing those kids around?"
John-Michael chucked. "It's kind of a tradition for the low brass to terrorize the other
sections, especially on the first day of camp. Plus the low brass freshmen always get
wedgies from the upperclassmen low brass on the first day. We like to think of it as a
rite of passage."
"Right." I couldn't keep the smirk off of my face.
The other boy stepped forward. "And I'm Charlie, first chair tuba and section leader."
Charlie was slightly taller than me and he had brown hair and eyes. John-Michael looked
to be about 6'2 and he had coal black hair and ebony eyes that seemed to sparkle with
mischief.
"I'm Samantha aka Sammy. As you can see, I play trombone. Do you guys have nicknames?"
"My real name is Charles so Charlie is a nickname."
"And people call me John or Michael or JM. Basically anything goes."
"What grade are you in?" Charlie asked.
"Eleventh." I answered.
"We're seniors." They bumped chests. "Did you just move here or something?"
"Yup, and this is my first time at band camp. My other school didn't have it."
Charlie and John-Michael's faces sprouted matching grins. "Then we'll have to make sure
that this is one camp you'll never forget."
Our conversation was cut short by the sound of a whistle being blown. The parking lot
became even more chaotic, if that's possible, as kids began running for the busses.
John-Michael and Charlie each grabbed one of my duffle bags and calmly began walking towards
a bus.
"Um, shouldn't we be hurrying to get a good seat on a bus?" I inquired.
Charlie and John-Michael stopped short looking first at me and then staring at each other in
incredulity. Then they began laughing uncontrollably. John-Michael fell to the ground and
rolled around crazily and Charlie simply sat down, holding his stomach in laughter and shaking
his head in disbelief.
"What's so funny?" I asked. They tried to control their laughter but ended up collapsing into
a fit of giggles again.
"Fine then," I said stalking off angrily. I didn't see what was so damn funny anyway.
"Wait! Wait, Sammy! Damn it, wait!" they called after me.
"Would you slow down for a second and let us explain?" Charlie yelled. I faced them with eyes
full of fire.
"I'm all ears."
"It's just that we forgot that you're new here. The low brass always gets a bus all to
ourselves and the section leaders always get the very back of the bus. All of our stuff is
already on there. It's just funny that anyone would even suggest that we hurry," Charlie
explained.
Oh, I thought silently and instantly forgave them. But then I thought, why not have a little
fun?
"So?" I asked violently. "That still gave you no right to laugh at me." I turned and began
walking away.
"C'mon Sammy. You're not really mad at us are you?" John-Michael asked.
"Do I look mad?" I turned and gave them the meanest expression I could muster up.
John-Michael perused my face anxiously. Then his face slowly broke into a wide grin. "No,"
he said.
"No what?" I asked.
"No, you don't look mad. Your face looks mad and so does your body language but deep within
your eyes some part of you is sparkling. You're not mad," he finished.
My face slowly sprouted a smile. "And who are you to tell me whether I'm angry or not? But
you're right, I'm not mad."
"Sorry to break up this love fest but I'm ready to get this show on the read so let's
boogie," Charlie said walking off.
I started to follow him but John-Michael stopped me.
"You should never try to lie. Your eyes tell everything you're thinking." And with that he
walked off leaving me gawking after him.
the car.
"Bye Mom! I love you too!" I yelled back waving madly. And then with a squeal of her tires
she was gone.
So here I am, I thought to myself as I wandered aimlessly around the crowded parking lot with
my two duffle bags, my trombone case, and my guitar. Man this place is a madhouse! Kids were
running around like chickens with their heads cut off. A frightened boy and girl were being
chased around by what appeared to be a crazy mob whooping like Indians on the warpath!
All of a sudden one of them stopped and pointed at me. "Hey guys, fresh meat!" The crowd of
boys began to approach me until one of them yelled, "Hey stop! She's not a freshman. She
doesn't have one of those cheesy nametags!"
"So?" someone called.
"So lay off her, dipshit." This came from the mouth of my original attacker. With grumbles
of protests the crowd dispersed except for two boys—the one that had initiated the attack
and the one that had saved me. Damn! Up close they were both hot as hell!
The initiator stepped forward to introduce himself. "I'm John-Michael, first chair trombone
and section leader. Sorry about that little mix-up. I didn't realize you weren't a
freshman."
"It's cool, but why were you chasing those kids around?"
John-Michael chucked. "It's kind of a tradition for the low brass to terrorize the other
sections, especially on the first day of camp. Plus the low brass freshmen always get
wedgies from the upperclassmen low brass on the first day. We like to think of it as a
rite of passage."
"Right." I couldn't keep the smirk off of my face.
The other boy stepped forward. "And I'm Charlie, first chair tuba and section leader."
Charlie was slightly taller than me and he had brown hair and eyes. John-Michael looked
to be about 6'2 and he had coal black hair and ebony eyes that seemed to sparkle with
mischief.
"I'm Samantha aka Sammy. As you can see, I play trombone. Do you guys have nicknames?"
"My real name is Charles so Charlie is a nickname."
"And people call me John or Michael or JM. Basically anything goes."
"What grade are you in?" Charlie asked.
"Eleventh." I answered.
"We're seniors." They bumped chests. "Did you just move here or something?"
"Yup, and this is my first time at band camp. My other school didn't have it."
Charlie and John-Michael's faces sprouted matching grins. "Then we'll have to make sure
that this is one camp you'll never forget."
Our conversation was cut short by the sound of a whistle being blown. The parking lot
became even more chaotic, if that's possible, as kids began running for the busses.
John-Michael and Charlie each grabbed one of my duffle bags and calmly began walking towards
a bus.
"Um, shouldn't we be hurrying to get a good seat on a bus?" I inquired.
Charlie and John-Michael stopped short looking first at me and then staring at each other in
incredulity. Then they began laughing uncontrollably. John-Michael fell to the ground and
rolled around crazily and Charlie simply sat down, holding his stomach in laughter and shaking
his head in disbelief.
"What's so funny?" I asked. They tried to control their laughter but ended up collapsing into
a fit of giggles again.
"Fine then," I said stalking off angrily. I didn't see what was so damn funny anyway.
"Wait! Wait, Sammy! Damn it, wait!" they called after me.
"Would you slow down for a second and let us explain?" Charlie yelled. I faced them with eyes
full of fire.
"I'm all ears."
"It's just that we forgot that you're new here. The low brass always gets a bus all to
ourselves and the section leaders always get the very back of the bus. All of our stuff is
already on there. It's just funny that anyone would even suggest that we hurry," Charlie
explained.
Oh, I thought silently and instantly forgave them. But then I thought, why not have a little
fun?
"So?" I asked violently. "That still gave you no right to laugh at me." I turned and began
walking away.
"C'mon Sammy. You're not really mad at us are you?" John-Michael asked.
"Do I look mad?" I turned and gave them the meanest expression I could muster up.
John-Michael perused my face anxiously. Then his face slowly broke into a wide grin. "No,"
he said.
"No what?" I asked.
"No, you don't look mad. Your face looks mad and so does your body language but deep within
your eyes some part of you is sparkling. You're not mad," he finished.
My face slowly sprouted a smile. "And who are you to tell me whether I'm angry or not? But
you're right, I'm not mad."
"Sorry to break up this love fest but I'm ready to get this show on the read so let's
boogie," Charlie said walking off.
I started to follow him but John-Michael stopped me.
"You should never try to lie. Your eyes tell everything you're thinking." And with that he
walked off leaving me gawking after him.