Hey, all! Wow, it's been awhile. Sorry about that. These last few months have been crazy. I've bee in the hospital for awhile, getting my appendix taken out, and my own marching band has been taking up a lot of my life. I'm the mellophone section leader, and my section kind of…well, sucks. Horribly.
Anyways, I know that's no excuse for not updating, and I'm sorry! Please forgive me and keep reading this story! I have big plans for it. I plan for this story to be pretty long, (it's already at 47 pages, and we're only on the first day of band camp!) going all the way into part of the off season.
I don't really plan ahead while writing, because I find it takes out all the fun of it. Why bother to finish a story if you already know how it's going to end? I just kind of put my fingers on the keyboard and see what comes out. That doesn't mean I have no plans, though. The first competition is going to be very, very important, so keep an eye out for that. Other than that, yeah. I just go with it.
You might have noticed that I changed the title. That's because the first time I named it, I named it wrong. Drill Masters are the marching shoes, not the thing that we yell. Sorry about that. It's just Drill of Position of Attention now.
In case you haven't noticed, there are a lot of characters in this story. I try to keep the main plot around the main ones, including Ryan, Max, Charlie and Tiffany, Tyler, Amy, and a few others. If I mention a character that's not a main one, I try to say something about them that tells who they are. If this gets confusing, or you think I'm giving you too many people to remember, tell me!
Also, if you have any questions, at all, about anything, feel free to ask! Leave me a review (which I really hope you guys are doing anyways…I love reviews!) or email me at WeezerD16 at cox dot net. hates at signs and email addresses, apparently, so replace the at with the little a thing and the dot with a period.
Anyways, I just realized that I've never done a disclaimer for this story!
DISCLAIMER: All characters, places, events, etc., belong to me, TicklishMonster. Steal them and I steal your soul. I'm not kidding. I love all the band kids in DPOA, so please don't steal them.
My friend pointed out to me that half the characters on this story are exactly like people we have in our band. I didn't mean for that to happen. Some of the real life people I met after I started this story, so they're not based on anybody at all. I guess all bands have the same kinds of people in them? Tell me if any of my characters are like real band kids that you know. This is interesting; I want to see if it's just my own whacky band or if it's universal.
I've kept you from the story long enough, so, enjoy the next installment of Drill Of Position of Attention!
2:30
FLMS's Band Room
"I hate marching," one of the freshmen girls said as the band came into the band room. Her statement was met with a round of applause from everybody else in the band.
"Oh, come on," Ryan said, leading the pack. He was the only one whose shirt wasn't completely soaked through with sweat. "Marching is fun! In fact, we have about 15 minutes until lunch, so. I say we take a little march through the halls! Won't that be fun?"
His statement, however, was met with boos and hisses.
Ryan just grinned. "Band, pa-rade rest," he ordered.
"One, two!" The band responded, moving into parade rest position as one. All of them had an evil glare in their eyes, though.
"Band, atten-tion," Ryan commanded.
"Pride!" Everybody yelled, snapping into attention position.
Ryan nodded and pursued around the band, looking at each of them to make sure they weren't moving. "There are only three things you can do at attention. What are they?"
"Blink. Breathe. Exist!"
Satisfied with his band, Ryan nodded. "At ease. I guess we won't march through the halls yet. 15 minute break until lunch, people!"
This time, his words were met with cheers as the marchers quickly found better ways to spend their much needed break. Ryan, on the other hand, had spotted the pit people in their intense card game, and with an evil grin, bounded his way over to them.
"Tournament?" the Drum Major asked, shoving Logan to the side roughly with his foot to make room so he could join the circle.
"Tournament," Max confirmed, not looking up from the large pile of cards in the center of them. He quickly put down a card from his hand, and all hands rushed forwards to slap it. Ryan's was on the bottom, though.
Charlie sighed and leaned back on his hands before turning to Lily. "Ryan is the best Ratscrewer in band," he told her. "Whenever we play, he wins. Always. We never deal him in when he plays. I could have one card left, and he'll slap in, and end up beating me. My goal this year is to beat him."
"Which is funny," Ryan added, "because I don't have a section to practice with. In fact, the only time I play during marching season is with you guys. And yet, I still beat you. Every time."
Sean, with his tongue stuck out, threw a card at him.
Ryan raised an eyebrow and picked it up. "Oh, hey, thanks. A Jack. That'll do wonders to my hand."
Charlie hit Sean upside the head and Max whacked him with a crutch. "Way to go," the former scolded. "Now he'll defiantly win."
3:00
FLMS's Cafeteria
"How were the freshmen?" Max asked Ryan, sneaking a cookie off the Drum Major's plate when Ryan wasn't looking.
Ryan saw this and swatted Max's hand, taking the cookie and shoving it in his mouth. "Don't ask me. Ask the section leaders," he suggested through a mouthful of cookie, causing crumbs to fall all over his plate.
"Gross," Tiffany said, so Charlie smacked Ryan for making his girlfriend cringe. "Well," she continued loudly, ending the fight that had broken out between her boyfriend and Drum Major, "my freshmen were really sweet. Some of them are good marchers, some of them not so much. But there haven't been any flute player catfights yet, which is good."
"That's more than I can say for Guard," Amy huffed. "Two of the girls decided they hate each other and spent the whole sectional time whacking each other with their poles. I had to put five people between them, and then they resorted to evil glares and name calling. I knew I hated freshmen. And then, two sophomores got into this huge hair pulling fight."
Watts and Tony exchanged a grimace. "We have the biggest snot ever," Watts complained. "He's so…stupid. And annoying. And horrible at life. He thinks he knows everything."
"He told me I was playing the mellophone wrong," Tony continued. "And he's a sax player. I wanted to smack him. Ryan, can I have permission to?"
The Drum Major shook his head sadly. "Sorry, can't give it to you. But you do have my permission to make him run as many cymbal laps as possible."
"Good."
"So, in conclusion, freshmen suck," Amy decided.
Max and Charlie both began to protest this, talking over one another to get their input heard.
"Lily is awesome!" Max finally managed blurted out, biting Charlie's hand which was attempting to cover his mouth.
Glaring, Charlie lowered his hand and gave it to Tiffany to kiss. "She is awesome, though," he agreed. "It sucks that you all got bad freshmen, but I'm glad Maxwell and I got a good one."
Both the pit guys ducked as various food items were thrown in their direction.
Catching a flying cookie in midair, Drumline Section Leader Kyle turned to Ryan. "Your brother is actually really good. Both at playing and marching. I was surprised."
Ryan wasn't. "But has he said more than two words?"
"Nope. Oh, Drumline has lunch clean up duty, right?"
Ryan nodded. "Max, Charlie, that includes Pit. We have half an hour break after lunch, and with all you guys working, it shouldn't take you that long to clean up."
The pit boys made faces at each other. "Why?" they whined in unison
"Well, because more hands are quicker than one," Ryan said seriously, knowing fully well that the Pities had been whining on why they had to clean.
"If that's the case, than you should help us, oh Drum Major Man, to make the cleaning go even more quickly," Max retorted quickly, an innocent smile on his face
Knowing he was caught, Ryan glared. "You and your quick thinking," he grumbled before getting up to throw away both his and Max's trash and getting the broom to help sweep up the cafeteria.
4:30
FLMS's Band Room
It took awhile for the band to get ready for afternoon music rehearsal. The layout of the band room here was different than the one that most of them were used to, so there was some confusion as to where certain sections sat and what side the first chairs sat on.
There was also the issue of fitting all of Drumline into the room. The pit had their own little corner, filled with their various instruments and chairs and pillow and bags of candy, but the rest of the section had to squeeze into a back row. There wasn't enough room for them to use their drum stands, so they had to stand and use their harnesses while playing, while the rest of the band got to sit. The Battery, of course, loudly voiced their complaints about this; until Ryan pointed out that they had had the choice, way back when, to pick an instrument that wasn't so big and heavy and let you sit.
That shut them up pretty quickly.
But once the band was finally ready, and after Ryan had led them in their warm-ups, Blake took over. During the actual show, Ryan would conduct all three movements of the show, but during practice like this, Blake conducted, and Ryan stood in the back of the room and practiced conducting to Blake's.
"Sit at ease for a few minutes," Blake instructed once he took the podium. There were a few seconds of movement as people put their instruments down and slouched down into the forbidden sitting position. The band director waited until everybody was quiet and looking at him before continuing.
"Our band has always been recognized for its music," Blake reminded his band. "During concert season, we excel for our music alone. During marching season, however…" He trailed off, and some of the upperclassmen cleared their throats and exchanged awkward glances. Blake just nodded. "That's what I thought. You see, during marching season, we kind of…forget our musical talent. The judges kill us on it every time. We focus more on our marching, because it's new, and try to just coast on the music…but not this year. This year, the music will be good. You hear me?"
More awkward glances were exchanged, along with a few snorts of laughter. Finally, Charlie stood up and saluted. "I hear you, sir!"
"Good," Blake said, beaming at the pit person. "Now, sit down and go juggle your mallets or something. Everybody else, pay attention. Our marching can be good. Really good, in fact. We have the talent, and the will to do it, so we will. But I want our music to be better than good. I want everybody to nod when we go to competitions and say 'There goes Park View High School. They make some good music.' Do you think we can do that? Good. Now, let's run part one."
5:00
FLMS's Main Lobby
The hour long break had started less than two minutes before, and Ryan was already sound asleep, curled up in a ball in the corner of the lobby of the school. His group of friends sat around him, with the rest of the band stretched out along the long hallway, some in the band room, and some in the cafeteria. Most of the band was sleeping, and the few that were awake were too tired to do anything but sit there.
It was, after all, the first day of Hell Week.
Tiffany was sleeping with her head in Charlie's lap, and Charlie was dozing against the wall, his head on Max's shoulder, who, in turn, had his head against his friend's head. Amy was using the sleeping Drum Major's chest as a pillow, with Tyler using her legs to cushion his head.
Robby Molten, the band photographer, took some pictures of the sleeping group. None of them noticed.
About twenty minutes later, the few brave band kids who had gone outside to play soccer or who had been in the gym playing basketball came straggling into the lobby of the school and promptly fell asleep on each other.
Kristy Pahl, Max's sister, had dragged her sleeping bag and pillow out from her classroom turned bedroom, and she had five freshmen, along with herself, shoved into the small blanket to stay warm during their nap.
There was a pillow piracy going on as well. The pillows that were being used by sleeping people were being snatched out from under the slumbering person's head, then being stolen again when the first pillow thief fell asleep.
When Mark Blake woke up from his own nap in the band office half an hour later, he walked right into Band Camp Naptime. The pillow thieves were too tired to try to steal any more pillows. The six girls in Kristy's sleeping bag had somehow managed to find a way to get them all in there comfortably. Ryan was snoring in the corner, Amy's head moving up and down with each breath the Drum Major took. Charlie was stroking Tiffany's hair in his sleep.
Blake was debating with himself for a few seconds on whether he should let his band sleep and skip sectionals or not when he remembered the afternoon practice and how much work was needed to get the band up to the high standards he was holding them to. That decided, the band director happily went back into the band room and got out Tyler's baritone and pulled out the tuning slide, putting his own mouthpiece in.
With a huge grin, Blake skipped back out to the lobby and began to play Flight of the Bumblebee as loud as he could and as out of tune as he could.
Robby was lucky enough to get some hilarious photographs of the band waking up. Ryan jumped up and screamed like a girl, stepping on Tyler's head as he did so. Erik and Isaac rolled off the bench they were sleeping on.
With a wicked smile, Blake grinned at his band. "Good morning," he said brightly. "Sleep well?" He caught the various pillows thrown at him by grumpy band kids. "You guys have five minutes to get your instruments, music, and music stands and get to your sectional rooms. Leaders, if I can see you in the cafeteria for a second?"
After having four more pillows and two stuffed animals thrown at him, Blake finally got all the leaders to stand up and follow him. Once they were all assembled in the cafeteria, and once Ryan was poked enough times to be fully awake, Blake started.
"I know you guys are tired," he said loudly over the yawns of his leaders, "But you guys have to be the example. If you act tired and lazy, the band will be tired and lazy. Be peppy, be energetic, and wake your sections up! Focus just on Part 1 in your music sectionals, and don't worry about music check offs at all. Don't even mention them. I'm giving you guys thirty minutes to practice, and then I want you all back in the band room. Okay. Have at it."
5:42
FLHS's Band Room
The Pit was sitting in a circle in the middle of their corner, all with looks of complete concentration on. They each had a cup sitting upside down in front of them, and when Max clapped out a rhythm for them, they began.
"Clap, clap, tap tap tap," Lily instructed in rhythm as the Pit played the Cup Game. "Clap, pickup, move."
They continued for two rounds, until Max picked up the cup with the wrong hand. Realizing this, he threw the cup across the room.
"I hate games that are biased towards left handers," he muttered. "Hey, you know what I just realized?"
Knowing that Max couldn't tell them until somebody asked, Charlie sighed. "What did you just realize, Maxwell?"
The section leader grinned at his best friend. "We have practiced at all yet."
"That's not true!" Logan protested. "We rhythmed during camp last week." Sean nodded in agreement.
"Yes," Max nodded, "But that doesn't mean that we can play the music. Okay, let's see…Logan, you have the bass drum. I figure you can hit on beats two and four with no trouble at all, right? Good. Charlie, you have the vibraphone, which is the same, for the most part, as the bells, which is me. So, mallet players, let's go from the beginning, slowly, and see what happens."
5:44
Room 216
"Baaaaam…dum dum…..ba ba…"
"Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
"Boo de doop dum ba booo…"
Tyler stopped conducting the low brass section and smiled.
"Ba ba baaaa bah…daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
Apparently, Isaac had missed the cutoff, because he was still jamming along on his tuba, oblivious to the fact that his entire section was starting it him. It was only when Tyler shoved his sweater in the bell of the tuba did Isaac stop playing.
"Why is my section so weird?" the section leader demanded, getting only shrugs and strange looks as answers.
With a sigh, Tyler started conducting again. "From measure ten," he said, giving them the down beats. "And try not to suck."
5:47
Room 135
"Okay, piccolos," Tiffany ordered, "give me a high C."
She was holding a tuner out in front of her, ear plugs firmly in her ears. The worst part about being the section leader for the highest instrument in band was tuning them, she always complained.
"Sharp," Tiffany said, pointing at one girl. "Flat," she told another. "Very sharp."
The rest of their sectional time was tuning their Cs, and playing in tune for the entire movement, not just for one note. Mr. Blake had told Tiffany to do this, though, because he knew, along with most of the band, that there was nothing worse than an out of tune piccolo section.
5:50
FLMS's Auditorium
"Okay, drumline," Kyle began. "We don't have music yet, in case you haven't noticed. Mr. Martin is still working on writing it. We'll hopefully have it by the end of the week."
"What do we do until then?" Trevor, the ever running cymbal laps guy, asked.
Kyle shrugged. "Chill?"
"It's good being in Battery," Trevor decided with a grin.
5:55
Room 47
The saxes and mellophone were finished practicing. Because they had two section leaders for the smallest section, even though it was combined, they often got done with sectionals early.
Watts, the alto and tenor sax leader, was busy punishing his annoying freshmen, Steven, while Tony and the mellophones all attempted to do headstands against the wall.
"Put your arms out to the side of you," Watts commanded. Steven obeyed. "Good. Now, leave your arms like that for as long as you can. Once you think you have to put them down, don't. Leave them up there until I tell you to put them down. Your arms will burn like hell. Good. Maybe that will teach you to not mouth off to your section leader?"
"Don't you think that's kind of harsh?" an upside Tony wanted to know. Watts just pushed the other leader over.
