Author's note: I actually don't have much to say. I'm having some issues with this site. When I update, my story does come up as updated. Anybody else have this problem?

So you know the drill. Leave some via reviews or facebook. This is probably the last non-band chapter for a little while at least. Enjoy!

The time between Christmas and the first mini-camp flew. While I was excited, I was nervous. There was always the fear of not being good enough, of not being able to keep up. This was a division one corp. This wasn't high school anymore. This was serious.

Kiwi, no one will believe in you unless you do.

The words stopped me dead in my tracks while I was out on a run. I was running almost daily now. It kept me from thinking. If I was given too much time to think, I could drive myself crazy with worry.

I hadn't thought about those words in almost a year. But now that I had, a flood of memories came back to me.

The song ends, and I conduct the cut-off a count late. I curse and hit the back button on my iPod and the song starts again. I put my hands up and begin again.

"Stop," Lauren says, "that last one was fine."

"I cut off a count late!"

"So what," she says calmly, "the rest of it was great. They expecting you to mess up at you audition. Heck, I got so lost I wound up having to give ones for a goof ten seconds."

Lauren is a former drum major and my personal hero. She has just finished her freshman year of college and is helping me with my drum major audition before she heads of for her second year with the Cadets.

"There's no point," I tell her hopelessly, "I'm not going to get it."

"Who are you?" Lauren asks, "Kiwi is always so sure if herself."

I shoot her a look.

"I am not sure of myself."

"Okay, fine," she says, "but you're the last person on earth to fall victim to fear of failure."

"Well, this is different," I stammered.

"Kiwi" Lauren says, "no one will believe in you unless you do."

Lauren had been right. I had made drum major. And yes, being drum major had been nerve racking and I had had this same fear, but I got through it. Not that there hadn't been some challenging moment, sometimes I had doubted myself, and sometimes I was so frustrated that I wanted to quit. Trust me; there had been more than enough of those moments. However, I still got through it. I had to keep reminding myself this would be no different.

Before I knew it, it was the day of the first camp. We had to be at the school Friday at seven and would leave Sunday at three, which meant I had a four o'clock flight there and a five o'clock flight back. I was curios to see how this would work out.

Mark and I bailed school an hour early that Friday. Mark, since he now had his license back, would drive my car home from the airport so it wouldn't sit I wouldn't have to pay to park it.

Mark finally wandered out 10 minutes after I was supposed to meet him.

"What took you so long?" I asked, "I thought you'd be happy to ditch school."

"I had to finish an article," he said.

"Okay," I said, a little confused. Since when did Mark put school before… well anything for that matter?

"Let's get a move on it. I can't miss this flight."

"You know," Mark whinnied, "I don't see why you have to go. It's just band practice. I really need your help on an article."

"Mark, if you were running professional track, would you miss a practice to help me do something?" I didn't even know if there was such a thing, but I thought it was worth a shot.

"No," Mark said.

"So what makes you think I would skip this practice?"

"Yea," Mark said, "but it's only band. Track's different."

Let me explain. My brother made that statement out of ignorance, not arrogance. In all four years of high school, Mark has never seen a band show. Our parents have a rule that we only have to come to one of each other's competition once a year. However, Mark always manages to wiggle his way out of it. It didn't bother me to much. I had only been to one track meet in four years of high school.

"Mark," I said, "if you do not get in the car right now, I will tell mom that you and Mackenzie slept together and you will get the sex talk ever night for the rest of your life."

Mackenzie was my brother's super pretty, super dumb girlfriend.

"You wouldn't dare," he said.

"When two people love each other very much…" I began, imitating my mother sing-song tone.

"Shut up," he says, opening the car door, "just drive the car."

I smiled sweetly and turned the key.