Author's Note: Yikes. This stared out as one chapter and is now turning into three, meaning you'll have to wait a little longer for move-ins. There will not be any more updates this week, seeing that it is exam week and I will be studying and not writing (unfortunately). This would be a great time to check out (and review!) the 100 Drabble Project if you haven't already.

You know the drill. Reviews are always appreciated. As I said, I'm new to this and I need all the help I can get.

I threw up three more times before I went to bed on Saturday, one less time than Nicole and one more time than Christine. We spent the first hour of practice on Sunday discussing the horrors of last night, sprawled out on the floor on a class room where we were supposedly having sectionals. Less than half the girls had finished out all three cycles and of those, only Jules had gone the rest of the night without throwing up. We were all impressed.

Janice released us from practice at noon, saying that we had all worked so hard this weekend that we deserved a break. I'm pretty sure it was because every looked like they were about to die. I slept the entire way to the airport and the entire time on the flight. Somehow, I was still exhausted and ached when I got home that night.

I was exhausted and in a great amount of pain when I woke up Monday morning. I contemplated staying home from school, but unfortunately, we had to present our German project, so that was out of the question. I grumbled, put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and headed off to the hell hole that they called school.

I collapsed in the band room between Em and Brian as soon as I got there.

"Long weekend?" Brian asked.

"You have no idea," I said. I was still aching from Saturday.

Em snickered.

"Oh, how'd drumline go this weekend?" I asked.

It had been the drumline's first regional this weekend. We both knew Em was under a lot of pressure because of her being pit section leader and co-captain of the entire line.

"It was survivable. We had a pretty good show. They played well." Em said, "I have to say though it's not as much fun without you guys."

I smiled. Last year, Em, Brian, and I had all done winter drumline together (Brian was almost 6'3, which made him the perfect person to play bass five.) But now that both Brian and I were marching corp, we had decided not to do drumline, leaving Em all alone (as she constantly liked to remind us).

"Right now, even strength training with the cymbals sounds better than this," I said, trying to stretch. Everything still hurt.

"Are you really in that much pain?" Brian asked.

"Yes!"

Brian cocked his head.

"Turn," he instructed me.

I turned towards Em and Brian's massive hands begin to move in small circle around my shoulders.

"Brian, thank you so much."

"Good god," he said, "That is a massive knot."

"Yea, and that's not the only one."

Brian continued to rub my shoulders. He was the go-to-man if you ever needed a massage.

"What did they do to you?" he asked, putting intense pressure on my shoulder blade.

"I think we ran to the tenth level of hell and back."

"Is this what I have to look forward to next weekend?" Brian asked.

The Bluecoats had their first camp next weekend (because for some reason, the January camp was canceled), and whether Brian wanted to admit it or not, he was nervous.

"No," I said, trying to ease his fears, "You'll be fine."

Brian was in much better shape than I was. Brian, for one, had actually marched the past season, unlike me. Brian was also an avid runner. He'd started running sophomore year after his dad died as an excuse to get out of the house (the first few months after his father's death, he had his mom hadn't gotten along). However, soon after, it became clear that Brian had been bitten by the running bug. Brian loved to run. It wasn't uncommon to see him out running even after the most grueling practice. Where he found the energy for it, I didn't know. I figured that whatever the Bluecoats put him through couldn't possibly be any worse than what he put himself through.

"Brian," I said, "I stood on a podium all season and waved my arms around like an idiot. Until rehearsal camps started, I hadn't marched since WGI finals last April. You'll be fine."

Brian said nothing and instead exhaled loudly.

"See," Em said, "this is why I'm in the pit. No physical labor involved."

"Rub it in."

Em snickered and poked me in the stomach, which is usually what we did to each other when we can't think of anything to say.

" OW!" I screamed, "Emmy, that hurts!"

Em gave me a weird look, and I couldn't help laughing

"And it hurts to laugh," I said, clutching my stomach.

That made us all laugh.

I came home after school on Tuesday, dreading the afternoon. For the most part, I no longer felt like death. The worst of the ache had gone away (not to say I wasn't still in pain) and I figured it was probably a good idea to start running.

It had become painfully clear to me that I should have started running at the end of last season. Really running. Not the occasional mile or two that I put in when I needed to think (even if they were becoming more frequent). I had stood on a podium all of the past season and while I had enjoyed it, I was now regretting it. Most of these girls were in much better shape than I was. If I didn't get into some kind of shape soon, every day at move-ins was going to be a repeat of this past weekend. I needed to get my act together.

Unfortunately, there was a lot of work involved in that.

Currently, a lot of running.

I grumbled. I was still in some pain from the weekend. And it was cold.

Oh well, I had to start somewhere.

I grabbed my running shoes and headed out the door with my iPod in hand.

I started out at my normal pace, but forced myself to move faster. Clearly, what I had been doing before wasn't cutting it. The thing I hated about the cold was that it made it hard to breath. I was winded after the first mile and had to force myself to keep going, which was proving to be challenging. I couldn't let my mind wander, otherwise I'd slow down. Finally, I gave up after another half mile. I needed to go back home, shower, and get some homework done.

I was not looking forward to it.

I came home sweaty and lacking feeling in my hands and toes. I had been out in the freezing cold for way too long and I was exhausted. I hadn't gone running (with the exception of this weekend) since I didn't know when. I didn't make it to the shower before collapsing on the floor.

I woke up on my living room floor about an hour later. I took a shower, did my homework, did about a zillion sit-ups, and went to bed.

Frau Wasser was out to get me. She assigned yet another project the day I got back. We each had to record a ten minute CD of us talking about the history of Switzerland. We had a week to do it. I swear, that woman was trying to make our lives as miserable as possible. However, we were allowed to work with partners and Brian was my partner again. It was going to be another Friday night of Kiwi and Brian working on a GPH.

I came home on Friday, went on very painful run (it was bitterly cold and my knee was really bothering me), showered and went over to Brian's. Ms. Williams let me in telling me that Brian was in the garage and I could enter at my own risk.

Brian spent more time in the garage then he did in his own room. The garage, which he and his sister used as an entertainment/game/work out room, was small and scarcely decorated. There was a TV in one corner with a couple bean bags in bright colors that clearly his sister picked out. The other corner had an old beat up sofa and a couple tables that we had used for homework, sleeping, and various other things on over the past four year. In the corner farthest from the door was the treadmill, which Brian was currently on. He was running, plugged into his iPod and zoned out from the rest of the world. I wasn't surprised; running was as crucial to Brian's survival as oxygen.

It occurred to me that I should probably let Brian know I was here. His music was cranked up way to loud for him to hear me enter, and he was so zoned out that even if could hear me, he wouldn't notice. But I couldn't bring myself to disturb while he was running. I loved to watch him run, his long legs falling in an even rhythm and his mind off in another universe.

It took him five full minutes for him to realize I was there.

"Shit," he said, "how long have you been her?"

"Five minutes."

Brian swore again and then head for the door.

"Let me shower, or at the very least, change. Then we'll get to work."

Brian didn't like to waste time, especially when it came to school work. He was a serious student and a hard worker. That was one thing everyone knew about Brian. He was smart. He didn't wind up being fifth in a class of almost 700 students by luck. Brian was the opposite of me. He was quiet by nature, incredibly smart, and had a great sense of humor once you final got to know him.

"You know Brian, if you want to get to work now, we can. I really don't care."

"Yea, but I do."

Brian went upstairs, took the world's fastest shower, and returned a few minutes later wearing jeans and a clean shirt that I had never seen before.

"You look nice."

Brian cocked his head and gave me a funny look.

Crap, I thought. Did I just say that?

However, Brian did not give me the verbal lashing I was expecting.

"Thanks," he said. He looked like he was searching for something.

"Um, Brian, shouldn't we get to work?"

"Yea," he said, looking slightly disappointed, "I have some books over on the table."

He wandered over to the table and started going through his backpack.

Oh my. That was weird.

We somehow miraculously finished in three hours (I think Brian spent four minutes rambling about the history of the German language. What that had to do with the history of Switzerland, I don't know). I headed home as soon as we were done, grateful for the extra time to sleep. I had a lot to do this weekend.

As I headed towards my room, I realized that the light in Mark's room was on. Mark had probably forgot to turn it off before he left (he was somewhere with Mackenzie tonight). I rolled my eyes and wondered how my brother was ever going to make it by himself as I opened the door.

However, the scene inside Mark's room was very different. Mark was actually in there. He was lying face down on his bed making some very odd sounds.

Was he crying?

"Mark?" I said, gently shaking him.

Mark said nothing and simply looked up. One look at his face told me that I had guessed right. His eyes were all puffy and his face was red.

"Mark, what's wrong?" I asked. The last time I had seen Mark cry was when we were seven years old and he had gotten hit in the head with a baseball bat.

"Mackenzie broke up with me," he said flatly.

"Oh, Mark," I said, not knowing what to say. My brother went through girls faster than he went through underwear. He went through break-ups all the time. In fact, he was usually the one who did the breaking up. I would have never expected to see him so upset over getting dumped.

In a perverse way, I was happy that they broke up. I was so sick of that girl always being over at out house. As I had stated earlier, I really didn't like her. I was going to enjoy being able to home and not have to listen to her high pitched giggle anytime Mark so much as moved. Still, I didn't ever want to see my brother like this.

"What happened?" I finally asked.

"I don't know. She just told me that it was over and then went home. There was no discussion."

I sat, dumbfounded on the floor next to his bed.

"I'm so sorry, Mark. Is there anything I can do?"

"Could I just be by myself for a while?"

"Of course," I said getting off the floor, "Just let me know if you need anything."

I closed the door on my way out, still shocked by what had just had happened. Mark went through so many girls without a second thought. I had never seen him so upset over a girl. Then again, he had been with Mackenzie for almost five months, a record for Mark, who rarely stayed in a relationship for more than a month.

My brother was an enigma. The boy who never cried was crying over a girl who was just a pain in the butt. Still, I felt bad for him. I never wanted to see him in this much pain. Maybe he could see something in her that I didn't.

With Mark, you could never tell.