hurrs the second chapter. heres where the story gets going. it might b lame in the beginning, but it'll get better. dont worry :D

A few days later you could find me at the same field, same week, same situation. Except this time the upperclassmen were with us marching, and we were currently learning our sets for the field show. The upperclassmen had been given books that show the sets we were to be put at, and quite frankly I had no idea how to read them. I just went where my section leader told me to go.

We were standing in the middle of the schools football field, getting cooked alive from the hot August sun. and I had once again forgot to bring sun screen. I had decided an hour ago that it was physically too hot to take in a word anyone said to me, but I was still trying. If I didn't get the sets right, and got left behind, I was screwed.

So when the monotone sound of Mr. Porters voice died out, and my fellow band members started to gather around those of us with books, I shook myself out of my day dream and walked over to my section leader, Molly.

Molly was a nice girl, yet she was very strict when it came to band. Many people called her annoying. I called her dedicated. I honestly didn't have a problem with her.

"So molly, where am I going this time?" I asked her tiredly.

"Lets see...Katie...you are splitting the 40 and the 45, four away from the hash." she told me. I nodded, and walked over to the hash mark on the field, in between the 40 and the 45, counted 4 paces, and placed my chip down. I looked over to molly, and she gave me a thumbs up. I sighed in relief. Finally I was taking in this band lingo. I had to learn quickly what splitting the yard lines meant and what exactly the hash mark was.

'Maybe next year ill actually be able to read the book myself' I thought tiredly, sitting on the dried up grass that was once a very handsome football field. I picked up a piece of grass and tiredly started peeling the edges.

The whistle was blown, and I stood up. I glanced at my watch, hoping against hope it was five minutes before our lunch break. It read 10:30. I sighed. Today was gonna be a long one.

7 hours later, I arrived home, aching all over, and walking on my tiptoes, because every time I set my heels on the floor it felt like someone was bashing them in with a hammer. I swore to myself that id never wear converses to band again, no matter how much I loved them.

I sat down on the couch tiredly, untying my shoes, wincing as I pulled them off. I walked up the stairs and into my bathroom, painfully trying to peel off my sweaty clothing without doing damage to my outrageously burnt skin. 'Damn my family for being Irish.' I thought mockingly.

Throwing the clothes on the floor, I stepped into the shower, turning on the water, and wincing as the luke warm water felt as if it was at boiling point when it hit my burnt skin. I turned it down to cold, and shivered. The worst part about sun burns is that you cant have a proper shower until they're gone. I tried to make the best of it, fiddling around with the shower valve to attempt to get a perfect temperature. I gave up and proceeded with my annoyingly cold shower quickly.

10 minutes later, I stepped out of the bathroom, shaking and cursing, and yet again wondering what I got myself into. I dried up quickly, putting on pj bottoms and a tank top, and limped downstairs.

My mom looked up from reading her book at me pitifully, and said "you know, katie, you can quit anytime if its too much for you."

My body screamed "DO IT!"... but something kept me from asking my mom to let me. I couldnt quite figure it out, but I just shook my head and told my mom I'd like to go on with it. She nodded, and gave me one of those "oh im so proud of you" looks. I smiled tiredly. My mom could be alright sometimes. She glanced back down at her reading, and I picked up a brush from the counter, pulling it through the mess of wet curls I called my hair.

"Oh and Jake called." mom said casually.

"Did he?" I asked, smiling. Jake was my boyfriend at the time.

"Mhmm. I told him you'd call him back."

"Ok." I said, putting down the brush, and picking up the phone. I dialed his number, and waited as the phone rang.

"Hello?" I heard Jake say.

"Hi Jake." I said tiredly.

"Hey Katie, whats up?"

"Ah nothing. Exhausted."

"From what, band?" he asked.

"Mhmm." I replied, rubbing my temple with my fingers. I could feel a headache coming on. I squeezed my eyes shut.

"Aw Katie is it really that bad?" he asked me.

"...that bad? Are you kidding me? Its terrible! Much worse than you'd expect." I said indignantly.

"How can it be bad? All you do is stand and march."

"Yea, stand and march. All day. No shade. No sun block. A break every other hour. I almost passed out the other day ya know. Its not all that fun."

"Ok ok, fine." he mumbled.

Silence.

"Maaan you HAVE TO come over some time soon. I havent seen you in the longest time!" he said finally.

I sighed. "Jake, its not my fault, I've been busy."

"I didn't say it was your fault."

"Sorry, im very tired right now."

"Its ok I guess."

'I guess?' I thought, but chose to keep it quiet. I didn't feel like having another argument. For a while there was just silence on the other end, I knew he was probably playing a video game. I let it slide for a while. Then I sighed.

"Well, are we gonna talk? Or just kinda sit here?" I asked, feeling dejected.

"Actually, I have to go."

'Of course you do' I thought. But out loud all I said was "ok, call later if you can."

"Bye, I love you." he said.

"...bye"

Click.

I sighed, and hung up the phone, walking up the stairs. I closed the door to my room, and fell onto my bed. i was finding it harder and harder to say I love you to him, I realized, burying my face in the pillow.

We had been going out since January, and in general, he was a wonderful boyfriend. He was kind, and caring, and sweet. For the most part. Then other times he could be mean, or just plain ignorant. I frowned. 'Why was I thinking like this?' I asked myself.

I rolled onto my back, and stared at the ceiling. More often than not, I was thinking about my boyfriend like that. Ever since may, most of our relationship had gone sour. We had been doing just fine, up until he made a comment about smokers.

I thought back to the event, and closed my eyes, feeling the stinging sensation you get right before you cry. We were just walking out of the movie theater, after seeing star wars. And we walked out into the parking lot, a guy in front of us was smoking.

Jake started talking loudly of how rude it was to smoke in front of people, and how gross it was.

"Stop Jake, hell hear you." I warned.

"I don't care. Its not my fault he's gunna end up on his death bed at 54."

And that was it.

That one sentence opened my eyes to realize just how judgmental my boyfriend really was. Not only did it hurt personally, since my father, mother, and my nana still smoked, but I doubted that he once thought about the fact that the man could've had a family that cared for him, that he wasn't just some random guy with no life.

After that, I started to notice the comments more often, Jake would voice his opinion, making prejudice remarks on religions, and races. And I would always contradict. That would lead to more fights, and those fights would lead to bigger ones, about other subjects. Of things from the past, that we would push aside, only to be dug up in these arguments. It was getting ridiculous.

I groaned, and sat up, brushing my fingers through my hair in frustration. Though we fought constantly, everyone saw us as the 'perfect couple.'

"If we're so perfect, then why don't I feel happy anymore?" I whispered, a stray tear falling down my cheek.

Silence was my answer.

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