Author's Note: I'm happy to see that people are reading this. I greatly appreciate both the support and the criticism. I hope to have a longer update next week, because unfortunately, this is exam week at the real CHS. And please, keep the reviews coming.

I didn't sleep that night. I was up for almost four hours trying to get paperwork together for Boston University. I also attempted to write my essay for admission (the prompt I had chose was "Mind that does not stick. Elaborate." Its failure to stick was giving me massive problems.) I finally went to sleep around two. I had the worst night of sleep in a couple years.

I woke up for the fifth time around seven. I couldn't take it anymore. I rolled out of bed and looked out the window. The sun was beginning to rise and there was no snow on the ground. It looked like the beautiful weather was going to continue into today. I found my running shoes somewhere in the back of my closet and left a quick note for my parents.

"Out for a while. If I'm not home by ten, worry."

I turned left on my street and began to pick up my pace. I didn't run very often, and when I did, it wasn't real far or for real long. I didn't particularly like running; unlike most people, running didn't relieve stress or give me more energy. It tended to do just the opposite. I usually came back from a run tired and grumpy. I ran simply to escape my thoughts.

My thoughts didn't move too fast; they tended to be easy to out run. This proved to be true for the first half an hour or so. However, I knew they would catch up with me eventually. And that proved true also.

I had gone to my room directly after my parents had handed me the letter. My parents assumed that it was because I was upset that I had not been accepted to UCLA. Actually, I couldn't have been happier. While I liked UCLA, I really didn't want to go there. However, I had gone to great lengths to convince them otherwise. They thought I was crushed.

My real concern was telling my parents that I had been accepted into the Dragons. While my parents had been supportive during the audition process, something told me they weren't going to be so eager to let me spend my entire summer on a bus with a bunch of girls that they had never met. They had no problem letting me auditions, but I was pretty sure they didn't want to join a corp, even if I was accepted.

That was the problem. I did want to join. More than anything else in the world right then, I wanted to be in a corp. I had wanted to ever since I saw my first DCI show, July of my freshman year…

The hot sun beats down on the back of my neck. I can feel my skin burning in the early July sun. It's hot and I really, really want to go home. Unfortunately, that is not an option. My mother is working concessions until nine that night. I am stuck in the hot bleachers until then. I look at my watch. Only six hours until I can get out of here.

"Hey Catlin," I hear someone say. I look up to see Em climbing up the bleachers.

"Hey," I respond, nowhere near as enthusiastic as Em, "Glad to see that someone else bothered to come."

"They'll be here" Em says, surveying the almost empty bleachers, "just wait."

Em plops down and pulls out a bottle of sun screen.

"I thought you might need this," she says, handing me the bottle.

I thank her profusely and begin to rub the oily lotion in the back of my neck, which already feels like the surface of the sun.

"I'm so excited" says Em, putting the bottle back in her bag. "This is so awesome! We're going to see the Cavilers! That's the corp Dan marched for!" Em sounds just like a vet, calling the band director by his first name.

"I don't care who Mr. Martin marched for," I say, rolling my eyes, "I just want to go home."

However, Em's enthusiasm can not be broken.

"Aw, come on," she says punching me in the shoulder, "don't you think it's awesome, being able to watch a DCI show right at our own school?"

"No, I really don't. I think it will be great when it's over."

Em turns around, clearly sick I listening to me complain. I don't blame her. If I were her, I would be sick of me too. I just didn't share Em's love of band.

I look down at the field. Some corp is down on the field, practicing. Right now, they're on water break. Come to think of it, they've been on a water break as long as I've been here. I look at my watch. Only five hours and fifty-five minutes until I am out of here.

"Set it up for a run through!" A voice booms. The guys on the sideline put there water bottle and begin to jog back on to the field.

Em gets very excited.

"There going to have a run!" she squeals.

By now, even I am intrigued.

The first note blows me away. They continue playing, the music getting progressively harder and louder. I am mesmerized. I don't even blink until the show is over.

"Who was that?" I ask Em.

"Blue Devils," she answers.

I smiled to myself as I though about that show. In truth, I hadn't really liked band in the beginning, but that single show had changed everything. It's funny to think how much I had changed since that day in July, not so very long ago. I had decided that day that I wanted to march with the Blue Devils. And even though that hadn't worked out, I still wanted to march corp. Yes I know, I had told Em Blue Devils or nothing ounce upon a time, but right now, more than anything, I wanted to march corp. Any corp.

I stopped running and looked up. I quickly realized I had no idea where the hell I was. It took me a minute to realize I was in front of the library, almost two and half miles from my house. I had had no intention of going that far. I grumbled, turned around and started for home. Pissed that I had gotten lost, I made it home in less than 20 minutes. I came home tired, cold, and grumpy. I still didn't know how to tell my parents.

"Hey there," my mom said when I got home "we weren't sure you would ever come home. Breakfast is in ten minutes. Go wash up."

My family was big on having Sunday breakfast together.

I walked up the stairs towards my room.

"Oh look, it's the UCLA reject," a voiced asked behind me.

Great. It wasn't even 10 and he was already insulting me.

"At least I'm going to college!" I shoot back before heading into my room.

"He" that had just insulted me was Mark. And unfortunately, he was my brother. My twin brother. He was exactly 98 seconds older than me, and still reminded me of that, even though we were only three months shy of our 18th birthday. He ran track, liked pickles, hated school, and was an expert at getting on my nerves. I sometimes had a hard time believing we were womb-mates.

I put on a clean shirt and meandered downstairs. Of course, Mark was there waiting.

"I'm going to college," he said. He never let an argument die.

"And where do you expect to get in with your stunning GPA of 1.8?" I shot back.

"CCC. And I have a 2.1 thank you very much."

CCC was Conersville Community College, about 15 minutes down the road.

"Anything with a pulse can get into CCC. That's not really something to be proud of."

He stared at me. I knew he had no comeback.

"And the only reason that you have a 2.1 is because I saved your ass in your journalism class. Otherwise, you'd be screwed."

My brother was in the journalism class at school. They wrote the school news paper. It met for three periods everyday, so the grade he received counted three times. Everyone who was able to keep a C- or above in the class received a full ride to CCC. It wasn't a terribly challenging class, but some people on the newspaper staff did work hard and were gifted writers. However, Mark was not one of them. He only took the class so he could get the scholarship, which he desperately needed (my parents were perfectly capable of paying for college, they just refused to pay for it until Mark could keep a steady 2.7. That had yet to happen.) He had scraped by last year with a C- and started this year with a D. I, being the good person that was, spent many night helping him write article after article. He finished the semester with a B, which greatly helped his sickly GPA. That's how my brother and I were. We gave each other hell at home, but when push came to shove, we were there for each other.

"Okay, I have no comeback. You win," Mark said.

"Thank you," I said.

"But, you're still a reject."

"MARK!"

When I returned to CHS (or Conersville High, depending on who you are) on Monday, I wasn't real eager to tell everyone about this weekend. I wanted to wait until I actually had the paper in my hand. I guess it just wouldn't seem real until then.

I did, however, feel obligated to tell Em. She flipped out and screamed for a long time. It was a little weird; you would have thought that she one excepted, not me. However, I was grateful someone was happy for me.

The letter came on Wednesday. I managed to intercept it before my parents got a hold of it. I tore it open.

Dear Catlin,

I am pleased inform you that you have been accepted into the Dragons. You will be playing the trumpet 2/trumpet 3 part. A schedule has been included. I look forward to seeing you at mini-camp, January 15.

Again, congratulations.

Sincerely,

Beth Browning

I hadn't imagined it. It was real.