Author's Note: I had a little extra time on my hands on the last day of break, so I figured that it would be a good opportunity to post another chapter. I can't say when the next one will be because we have exams in two weeks and, well, you know how that is.

So, onward! A happy New Year to all! May this year bring you health, happiness, and many more chapters of ROBAD. You know the drill. Leave some.

I woke up Sunday morning to a world covered in white. Somewhere between eleven (when we finally finished playing Truth or Dare) and seven that morning, we had been hit by a snow storm, apparently common practice for Boston (or so Uncle Mark claimed). I would have been excited, except for my five o'clock flight home. However, the local forecast was hopeful; it was supposed to get up to forty degrees, so some of the snow would melt before I left.

Hopefully.

The snow forced us inside for the day, much to Beth and Janice's disappointment. I, personally, was grateful. While I didn't feel nearly as bad as I did yesterday, I was still a bit stiff. We had three more rehearsal camps and three weeks of intense move-ins before we left for tour. I was pretty sure we were going to be okay if we didn't get to march today.

We spent the morning in sectionals. Much like last night, Julie took charge after no one else would. I was not complaining. Even though I hadn't known Julie that long, I was really starting to like her. She was very laid back and liked to have fun, but she could also get work done without making everyone miserable in the process (some people in my section back home had yet to figure out how to do that). We spent most of the sectional hacking out the opener. While it was not even close to perfect, we sounded much better that yesterday. Correction: they sounded much better than yesterday. However, I was still playing terribly. I couldn't seem to play for the life of me. If anything, I had gotten worse, not better, since yesterday. And considering how yesterday had gone, I wasn't sure if that was possible.

I wandered into the hall after the sectional feeling tired and disappointed. While this morning's sectional had been fun, it had also been incredibly disheartening. These girls all proved to be very talented. I was really unsure whether or not I was going to be able to cut it.

"Hey you," I heard a familiar voice behind me say, "Wait up!"

I turned and saw Lauren at the other end of the hall.

"Are you eating lunch here?" she asked.

"Yea," I told her, "My Uncle and his family are going to church or something, so I'm staying here for lunch."

"Fantastic," she said, "I am too. Let me go grab my lunch and then we can find some place to sit and talk. You look like you are in need of some cheering up."

We walked around until we found a quiet hallway away from the noise of the chatty guard girls and the hacking drummers.

"So, how's life? How are things back home?" she asked.

I filled her in on the latest make-ups and break-ups in the band and told her about the upcoming drum line and winter guard seasons. I told her about Em and Brian's upcoming season with the Bluecoats and my college search. She listened intently, asking me questions and laughed at all the stupid stuff that was going on in the band back home. By the time I was done, I wasn't feeling so bad anymore.

"So," I said, "now it's your turn. Why are you here and not with the Cadets?"

"Well," she began, "It's a long story."

Apparently, after Beth Browning resigned from the Blue Devils, she took a job at Northeastern, where Lauren went to school. Ironically, Beth had seen the Cadet bass line at DCI's I&E competition and recognized Lauren. Beth (or as Lauren always called her, Professor Browning) was Lauren's Advanced Theory Professor and ran the Wind Symphony. When Beth finally got everything together and was sure that she was going to direct a crop this year, Lauren was one of the first people she came to. She knew that Lauren was a talented player and also (somehow) knew of her drum major experience. She asked Lauren if she would be interested in being drum major for the Dragons' first year.

Lauren, however, was not entirely sure at first. She had been contemplating leaving the Cadets since the end of the season. She was not entirely found of George Hopkins, and she had also had a nasty skirmish with one of the snares. Like Julie, Lauren was ready for a change. However, leaving was not that simple. She still liked the Cadets and had a lot of friends in the corp. When auditions rolled around in November, Lauren still wasn't sure.

She attended the vets' camp in early December, before the call backs for new members. The weekend went poorly, to say the least. The time off seemed to have made the fight between Lauren and Steve (the snare) worse, not better. She was still upset with Hopkins. At the end of the weekend, section leaders and captains were chosen. Steve was named drum line captain. At that point, Lauren was done. She came back to school the next week and told Beth that she had made up her mind. She wanted the spot.

"And so," she finished, "now I'm here."

"Wow," I told her, "that's impressive. To tell you the truth, I'm glad I'm not you. I wouldn't have wanted to make that decision."

"In truth, I'm excited," she said, taking a bite from her cookie, "I missed conducting and I missed being in charge, as selfish as that sound."

I smiled. I had always admired Lauren. She was an excellent leader and just a good person in general. I looked forward to marching under her again.

"Hey, I think we've got to get going. We supposed to run the opener this afternoon."

"Run, like the entire ensemble plays the opener together?" I asked.

"Yep," she said, "you better get in there."

"You've got to be kidding me," I mumbled. This was going to be a long afternoon.

I took what was becoming my typical seat between Julie and Christine. Sitting between them was no less than intimidating. Everyone already found out this morning that Julie (or Jules as she asked us to call her) was a fantastic player when she played the feature near perfect during sectionals this morning. Christine, while she was not as willing to play in front of people, defiantly had chops. No pressure sitting between them.

Beth wasn't in the band room by the time the brass were ready to warm up, so Lauren lead us through a quick warm up while we waited for the percussion to get settled. However, even after the pit and the battery were completely set up, Beth was still no where to be found. Lauren stood awkwardly on the podium for a moment before coming over to Jules and me.

"I'm going to go find Sarah," she whispered, "because I don't think the assistant drum major should be running the first entire corp practice by herself."

"What do you want us to do?" Jules asked.

"Just make sure no one kills anyone."

Lauren ran out the door while the rest of the corp sat quietly. As the time passed, the girls grew restless and the level of noise started to rise. Jules and I discussed trying to quiet them down, but we decided against it. Lauren's only instruction had been to make sure that no one committed murder. Compared to that, talking seemed pretty harmless.

It took Lauren almost a half an hour to find Sarah, and then they spent another forty five minutes looking for Beth (or at least that's what Lauren told me when she got back). By that time, it was two thirty. We had a half an hour left of practice, and we were without a director or any staff member for that mater. Sarah half heartedly ran the opener and then made the executive decision to send us all home. She and Lauren said we had worked hard this weekend, but there was no point in trying to run the opener for the first time without Beth. Since there was nothing else we could do with ten minutes left of practice, it was best we went home.

I quickly packed my horn up, thrilled that we had only had to play once this afternoon. I was acutely aware of just how much work lay ahead of me.

"Hey, are you still giving me a ride to the airport?" Nicole asked me as I was packing up my horn. I watched her closely as she twirled a single stick with her fingers.

"Yeah, of course. I told you we would," I said. Truthfully, I had forgotten about it until that moment. "What's with the stick? Don't they usually come in pairs?"

"Very funny," Nicole said, giving me a cross look as we started walking towards the parking lot, "I lost the other one sometime last night. Or somebody took it, but I can't figure out why anyone would take just one stick. Either way, I was missing a stick when I picked up my drum this morning."

The events of last night came back to me and I stopped dead in my tracks.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing," I said, working very hard to keep a straight face, "That sucks."

It took a half an hour to drive to the airport, and then another half an hour to get checked in and go through security. Nicole had to run to make her four fifteen flight. I, unfortunately, did not have that problem. My flight got delayed.

I searched the terminal for someplace to sit while I waited for the plane to show up. I was exhausted. I finally found a quiet chair behind a Dunkin' Donuts. I figured no one would probably bother me there. I curled into a little ball and started listening to my iPod. In the search for Taylor Hicks, I some how wound up looking at my photos. Most of them, okay all of them, were from band. The first one was of Em and I leaning against Em's marimba after the parent show at band camp this past season. Em's hair is twisted and piled on top of her head to try and get some relief from the heat my white gloves are accented by the dark brown keys on the marimba. We both look tired, hot, and emotional, most likely because we were. Neither one of us had liked the idea of leaving band.

I flipped through some more pictures of various competitions, award ceremonies, and football games, until I saw one picture that made me burst out laughing. It was another picture of Em and I, except this time were sitting on a curb and soaking wet. I had my trumpet on my knee and Em was holding her mallets in her hand. We had later joked that these might as well have been our senior pictures, minus the fact we were soaking wet.

Oh, and the fact we're completely pissed in that picture.

I rolled my eyes thinking back to that football game so very long ago.

It's the third football game of the season and the sky is pelting down rain. We are all trying to run into the school to keep dry while we wait to see if the game will continue on. Unfortunately for Em, she has to sit out in the rain with the rest of the pit to make sure the truck gets loaded. Em is exhausted and sits down on the near by curb. After quickly examining my horn and determining that it is still a piece of crap, I sit down next to her. She sighs and runs her hand through her damp hair. She's tired and sick of the crap she gets for being assistant section leader.

Two of Em's section mates, Andrew and Marcy, both freshman vibe players, sit down next to her.

"So," Andrew asks, "Once you graduate, who do you think will be the pit section leader?"

Everyone knew Em was going to be the pit section leader next year. She had beaten out two seniors to get the assistant section leader spot.

"I don't know," Emmy says exhausted. This was the last thing on earth she wanted to be dealing with.

"Well…I mean it's not like there are any sophomores or anything…" Marcy says.

That is true. There had been no rookies in the pit last year. However, Em sees right through Marcy's words.

"I don't know who's going to be section leader after I graduate. It's not like we pick our successor."

Em is in no mood to deal with this right now.

"Well, I think its going to be me," Marcy says turning to Andrew, "because I played last year at Whitewood."

Marcy attended at small school called Whitewood that aloud their 8th graders into their band because it was so small. She had no problem telling anyone who would listen about how great it was.

"Well," Andrew says, "I think I'm going to get it because I'm playing the harder part."

This was true also. Andrew was second vibe while Marcy was third.

Em sighs. Her endless patience is wearing thin. The least of her concerns is who is going to be section leader in two years. Andrew and Marcy continue there argument, growing more and more heated by the minute.

"You know what I think?" I say, getting annoyed, "I think neither one of you is going to get it if you keep acting like this."

Both Andrew and Marcy stare at me, then immediately look at Em, hoping she will disagree with me.

She simply nods, not trusting herself to speak.

Andrew and Marcy are both left completely speechless and turn and leave.

"Finally," Em mutters under her breath.

I smile.

"Freshman," I say, "already in a power struggle."

Kevin, the pit section leader starts yelling at Em to move equipment using a few choice words.

Em places her head in her hands.

"I can't wait to march corp."