Author's Note: Remember me? I know it's been forever since I updated, but life's been kind of crazy. Thankfully, the season's going well (we broke 90 this weekend!) minus the section drama. However, my schedule's insane. The two free weekends I have had I spent shopping for a homecoming dress and at homecoming. I really haven't had time to write, much to my disappointment. This will probably be my last update until the end of the season (November 17th unless, god forbid, the football team does well in the play offs). Sorry guys!

Well, I think that's all for now. I hope everyone is having a good season and I hope to see some of you at the Indianapolis regional in two weeks or at Grand Nats in four. I hope everyone enjoys the adventures of Kiwi until next time. Kiwi's such a bad liar, isn't she?

P.S. For those of you that do not play trumpet a Xeno (pronounced Ze-no) is a very nice brand of trumpet.

I woke up late the next morning and had barley enough time to take a shower and inhale breakfast before heading of to the second day of camp. I was very excited for my first real practice with the Dragons, despite my nervousness. I was looking forward to tackling the music of a DCI corp.

I was a couple minutes early, so I immediately started looking for one of the only two people I knew. I found Nicole sitting outside the gym listening to her iPod with a lopsided grin on her face.

"Hey, what are you listening to?" I asked.

"The Sweet Escape," she said without changing her facial expression.

That song did not give anyone in the world that type of grin. Not unless there was a story behind it.

"And…" I prodded.

"Nothing," she said,

"Right," I said sarcastically.

"Somebody gave me the CD."

I looked at her.

"A male somebody?" I asked.

Nicole checks turned crimson as she looked down at the ground.

"No," she managed to stammer.

"You know you're a really bad lair," I said sympathetically.

Nicole's checks turned even darker red.

"Yes," she said.

"So," I asked, "who is it?"

She looked up.

"His name's Brad," she said, "and was a quad player at my high school last year."

I smiled. She was cute.

"And he's running of to California next month and I will probably never see him again," she said, placing her face in her hands.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. I had had no intention of causing her pain.

"It's fine," she said, wiping her eyes, "so, any guy your life?"

"No," I said. But the instant I said that, I felt my face begin to burn.

"You're lying," Nicole said.

Now it was my turn to be embarrassed

"No, really," I said, "I'm not interested in anyone."

"Oh, really," Nicole asked, "then how come you're blushing?"

"I'm not blushing," I said, trying to cover-up, "My face is only red because I'm really hot."

"It's two degrees in here. How on earth are you hot?"

Bad excuse. Nicole was right. I was freezing in the hallway.

I was silent.

"That's what I thought," Nicole said, "now, spill."

"Um…" I stammered, "I'm going to head into the band room."

I meandered into the band room, my checks still burning from the incident in the hallway. Nicole was right. I had been thinking of someone. Brian, the trombone section leader, had come into my mind, which was incredibly odd. I had no feelings for Brian whatsoever. Really. No matter how much Em teased us, no matter how much Brian section chastised him about it, there was nothing between us. Nothing.

Brian and I were in the same German class freshman year. We were both quiet, terrified freshman, and we both hated the teacher (ironically, the same teacher I had and still hated now.) When we both found the courage to talk, we hit it off right away. We were both hard core band nerds (Brian, like me, was planning to march corp this year) who loved reading, chemistry, and complaining about Frau Wasser. We'd been friends ever since. Next to Em, Brian was my best friend. Dating him would have been like dating my brother.

By now, the band room was starting to fill up. Beth had written on the board that would be starting music in… about five minutes. It would probably be a good idea to get my trumpet together.

I sat down towards the front of room and pulled out my beloved Xeno, Danny. Yes, I had named my trumpet. Most of my section at school had named their horns, the names ranging from normal (such George or Danny) to completely bizarre (one of my section mates had named their trumpet Shakakagaga. I didn't understand either.)

Another girl, I think her name was Christiania, came and sat down near me and started oiling her valves. My memory from last night was very fuzzy, but if I remembered correctly, she was a senior in high school, and she had proudly announced that she was the only member of her family that did not play the violin. She looked a little bit nervous as she sat hunched in the corner. I figured it would probably more polite to go over and talk to my new section mate than just staring at her. I grabbed my stuff and got up.

As I was getting up, the metronome started to blare, and I grabbed the nearest chair and sat down. I guess I would have to talk to her later.

"Good morning girls," Beth said, "How is everyone this morning?"

There were a couple goods, a couple grunts, and a lot of blank stares.

"That great, huh?"

There was a quiet snicker from the group.

"Well, since we had a chance to get to know each other last night, we're going to get right down to business today. Guard, you will be heading into the gym with the guard staff. Drumline, you will be in the theater doing the same thing you did at mini camp. Hornline, you will be in here with me working on the opener. Does anyone have any question?"

The room was silent.

"Okay then," Beth said, "everyone, break!"

The guard and the drumline left the room and the hornline started to arrange chairs. Trumpets were in the first two rows, followed by the mellos, then the baritones, and then finally the tubas. We spent a fair amount of time warming up and then handed out the opener.

When I first saw the music, I thought I had been handed the wrong part. The page was more black than white. In six years of playing, I had never seen anything like it.

This wasn't high school anymore.

I looked around the room. Thankfully, most of my section looked just as intimidated as I felt.

"So, what does everyone think of the music?" Beth asked somewhat sarcastically.

I glared at her.

"Okay, trumpets, I know the feature looks intimidating," Beth said, "but, I swear, it's not as bad as it looks."

Yea, right.

"Here, let's try it. We'll take it under tempo. Everybody, start at letter B, the trumpet feature."

I groaned. I brought my horn up to my mouth.

I got the first two notes out. I was pretty much lost after that. I tried to get back into it, but it wasn't happening. Thankfully, it sounded like everyone else was in the same predicament.

"Well," Beth said, after we had played the section, "that wasn't too bad."

The room got really quiet. Then we all burst out laughing.

"Okay," Beth admitted, "yea it was. Who wants to try it again?"

We all raised our hand.

We spent the entire morning hours working on the same section. By the end, I could play the first five notes instead of the first three.

I guess you could call that progress.