Introduction-
I'm most definitely an introvert: that sweet, quiet, plain brunette, the one who does what the teacher says and that's it, no ifs, ands, or buts. I pay attention, take notes. Some call me a goody-goody, although my grades really aren't all that special. I'm good at band, and maybe French and English, but that's about it.
I'm an upperclassman, a senior, but you might say I don't act it. I don't bully the freshmen, or use my status to get what I want. I'm just there.
Not that I'm ignored or anything. My best friend is Jacqueline. She's in marching band and she plays the clarinet. She's pretty darn good at it too.
Actually, scratch that. All of my friends are in marching band. Yep, you guessed it. I'm a band nerd. I play the alto sax. In 5th grade, my mom dug an ancient case out of the basement and brought it up to the TV room, where I was watching an old rerun.
"Here," she said, "You said you want to be in band next year?"
"Can you believe it?" the TV shrieked across the room as a character stared at their bills, stunned. I picked up the case and fiddled with the clasps until finally I had it open.
And that's where it all began. The whole band thing, I mean.
I'm pretty good at the sax I guess. I'm not extraordinarily good, and I'm not first chair, I'm second. Nothing special, really.
I still use the sax my mom gave me. It had been my uncle's in high school, but somehow we ended up with it, and it sat in my basement for about 10 years. It's full of dents and very tarnished. I say the tarnish gives it character, since no sax tarnishes exactly the same, right? However, it's my marching band sax now, since two years ago I bought a new one. But no one forgets their first ever instrument, and I treat it nicely just the same.
There is one thing though. I have this secret. And I can't let anyone know it, ever. It's... secret.
Chapter One-
It was late August, two days before school began. The Westgate Marching Lions and I sat on the patch of concrete next to the band field, gathered around our band director, Ms. Havens, underneath the sweltering hot sun. It was horribly hot. I sat there, wiping my forehead on my sweaty sleeve, as she rambled on.
"Now, we'll be marching in the Westgate Labor Day Parade, as you all know."
There were a couple cries of disappointment and disgust.
"Stop that." She glared at the offenders. "You should all know well by now that we always march in it. It's a tradition. So, I want you all to be here at noon..."
She droned on and I closed my eyes, retreating to the darker undersides of my eyelids, which was a contrast to the overbright sun. The heat was starting to get to me, and it was making me very sleepy. I could almost feel myself getting tanner, and I suddenly realized I'd forgetten to put on sunblock. Ms. Havens' droning voice went on, and wasn't making it any better either. Not that she's a bad director. She's young, about 26ish, and a great person. But sometimes she talks far too much.
I felt something crawling up my arm, something prickly. It felt like someone's sharpened fingernails.
"Garrett, stop," I said suddenly, without opening my eyes. Garrett was the wacky trombone player who had the odd habit of sharpening his fingernails into points and painting them blood red. Freshmen were easily intimidated by this.
Someone snickered behind me.
I faked a laugh. "Haha, funny. Now stop."
I heard a girl gasp. "Ew!" she shrieked.
Everyone's attention was falling away from Ms. Havens, and I opened my eyes to see why. I was surprised to see everyone staring at me, some laughing, some (mainly the girls) looking revolted. I became keenly aware that the prickly thing on my arm was still there. I looked...
...And let out an embarassingly bloodcurdling scream. Ms. Havens stopped talking and stared in my direction.
"You... ew! Get it off!" I shouted.
Garrett pulled the praying mantis off of my arm and chuckled. "Sorry, Rhianna, but you should have seen the look on your face," he laughed.
Ms. Havens glared at him. "Garrett..." she said dangerously, then seemed to regretfully break into a smile. "Never again."
Garrett never gets in trouble. He's one of those people that can get away with everything because everyone likes him so much, they just can't yell at him.
I looked up and saw Ryan, the drum major, staring at me, as well as nearly everyone else in the band. When I noticed him looking I flushed, suddenly realizing that I'd just embarrassed myself horribly. It was just a bug. Normally I'm not like that. But I suppose it just caught me unawares.
I looked down quickly, and at that moment Ms. Havens went on about the parade. I sighed a quiet sigh of relief as everyone's attention finally turned away from me and life, at least for the moment, went on.
