Author's Note: Hooray for snow days! More time to write!

I posted a new drabble called Start (it's number 14). It is the prologue of an idea I'm playing with called On Final Time. It would be the story of Kiwi, Em, and Brian's senior year told through all of their perspectives, kind of like La Petit Chien's To March. There are some questions at the bottom (of the drabble) that I really, really need you all to answer. It would be great if you could go check it out.

That's all for now. You know the drill. Leave some. Let's see if we can get to fifty.

Drill did not improve as the morning went on. It seemed that in a past life I must have angered Mr. Gains because my drill sucked, and we were only up to the trumpet feature (my saving grace). I wasn't sure how I was going to manage the rest of the opener, let alone an entire show.

I spent lunch staring at my drill charts trying to figure out exactly how this was going to work. There was no way I could cover that much distance in eight counts.

"You know, that drill is not going to change no matter how long you stare at it. It would probably be more productive to eat. You don't pass out later."

I stuck my tongue out at Nicole.

"Fine, fine, fine," I said, "Have it your way."

Nicole sat down across from me.

"This is some crazy drill."

"You're preaching to the choir. I'm the one you ran over. I don't even want to see what will happen when you have you drums on."

"Most likely, it will hurt worse."

"No shit," I said looking her straight in the eye.

We both burst out laughing at the exact same time. Since auditions, Nicole and I had become fairly close.

Blond hair, green eyed Nicole was something of an anomaly. On the surface, she was blatantly sarcastic and straightforward. But when you looked a little deeper, Nicole was an entirely different person. She read The Three Musketeers for enjoyment and considered The Scarlett Letter to be one of the greatest books ever written. She got a perfect score on her verbal SAT. She liked philosophy and we had spent several meal breaks during various rehearsal camps discussing the state of humanity (actually, it was more of a one sided conversation. She talked, I listened). She was the opposite of me. She was emotionally driven and passionate, while I was more logical and level-headed. Maybe that's why we had become such good friends. We balanced each other perfectly.

I put my drill charts away and started eating.

"Are we in sectionals this afternoon?"

"I know the drumline is in subs" Nicole said, "so I'm guessing you guys are probably in sectionals."

"Your first sub! What are you going to make your section do?"

"Run the opener about a million times. We have yet to make it through without scraping."

I had no idea what "scraping" was so I just sat there and nodded. I did not speak fluent drummer yet, but with Nicole as my roommate, I might by the end of the season.

"Nervous?" I asked.

"Are you kidding me? I was captain last year. I ran my whole freakin' line. I think I can handle running a sub."

I cocked my head. I knew Nicole too well to believe this.

"Yes, I'm terrified."

I laughed and looked at my watch. It was time to go.

Nicole and I pitched the rest of our lunch and headed outside to the music building. The nice part about having move-ins in May was the weather. There was no humidity and the temperature was near perfect. I stopped in the middle of the field and took a minute to soak it in. I knew I would miss this when we were in Texas (July 23. Was there a worse possible time?).

"Kiwi, are you coming to practice or not?"

"Yea."

As Nicole had predicted, we spent the afternoon in sectionals. It was a welcome change from drill. No one was running over me and I wasn't trying to keep dots straight. All I had to do was mark time and play, two things I knew I could do. We spent a fair amount of time on the feature (which was sounding pretty good, if I do say so myself), and then we ran the ballot. The ballot was turning out to be pretty kick ass. It started with a sweet trumpet solo, then moved into an entire brass chorus, and then ended with a trumpet trio like nothing I had ever heard. I couldn't wait to see it on the field. Everyone knew the opening solo would go to Jules, but the other two spots were still up for grabs. I didn't want one (although it would be a nice break from drill if this kept up), but I was curious to see who it would go to.

"It doesn't sound bad," Jules said, after running the ballot, "but I feel like you could give me more emotion. We're all girls, we all get emotional. When I hear this part, I should feel like I'm watching Extreme Makeover: Home Audition."

We all laughed.

"See, when I tried use that metaphor last year, they all stared at me. Guys just don't get this stuff."

I was not surprised. I would have never used that analogy at CHS.

Jules pulled out her cell.

"Run this one more," she said, "and then we're all at dinner."

Dinner was actually quite enjoyable. First off, tonight's dinner was pizza and it actually tasted like pizza. Not good pizza, but pizza nonetheless. And second, I sat with Nicole, the rest of the quad line, and a cymbal player named Lindsey. Together, we formed a rather… interesting table. Don't get me wrong, it was a fun table, but we were an odd group. The quad line spent dinner loudly cracking jokes at anyone's (and I do mean anyone) expense. While I did not partake in the joke fest (I can't think that fast on my feet), I thought they were very funny and laughed until my stomach hurt. Lindsey did not seem to find them as humorous. The entire meal she sat silently, staring at us with huge eyes and looking like she was about to burst in tears. While I felt bad for her, I was very confused. She was in the battery. By now, she probably knew what the quad girls were like. If they scared her so much, why did she choose to sit with them?

I was really starting to enjoy myself when my dinner was interrupted.

"Kiwi?"

It was Britney, the tech that had informed me of Mr. Gains's dislike of me earlier that morning.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked. After a good sectional and a good dinner, I was in a much better mood than I was during drill.

"Would you mind working on drill for a couple minutes? I just don't want you to get run over by a quad."

Even though I had only met Britney twice, I could already tell she was one of those almost sickly-sweet people that lived in constant fear of making someone mad.

"Yea, sure," I said, "When? Tonight? Tomorrow?"

"Um, would right now be okay? It shouldn't take that long."

"Sure." I had to agree with Britney. Getting run over by Nicole did not sound like any fun. There would be more time to hang out with the quads later (Nicole was my roommate after all).

Britney smiled gratefully and we headed out to the field.

"Maybe if you face the dot and take a little bit bigger steps, you'll be able to make it."

I was set up in my opening dot and hoping that this would work. Unfortunately, we hadn't been able to figure out exactly how to make this work. Still with every attempted, I seemed to be getting it a little closer every time.

I turned and waited for Britney to start clapping. She did and… aha! I made it. I was still at least a full step off, but for now it should at least prevent Nicole from running over me.

"Finally!" I said. This was starting to get old.

Britney laughed.

"Beth discussed having everyone start backfield. I'll talk to her about doing that tonight."

Britney headed over to the tower and I headed over to my horn. By now, most of the corps was on the field getting ready for a tough evening block. I did not want to be late.

We set up in a circle to stretched, and then had a very long (and unpleasant) basics block. My energy was almost gone by the end and we still had nearly four hours of rehearsal left.

Finally, we were released for water break. I was grateful for a chance to drink some water and to just not hold up my horn. However, it seemed as soon as I made it to the side line, we were being called back.

Arg.

I grabbed a quick swig of water and headed out to the field.

"Everyone set up at the top of the show," the voice of God (a.k.a. Beth) boomed from the tower.

We did as we were instructed and Beth made the slight change of having the brass face back field (Hallelujah!). We broke the opener down set by set for a while, and then ran the whole thing start to finish. The backfield change proved to be very helpful. I didn't hit Nicole (or anyone else for that matter) once. I was super excited.

Granted we weren't playing.

Around ten (at least, I think it was ten. I lost track of time. All I knew was that it was dark) we started playing. We broke it down set by set. I was fine. We ran chucks. I was fine. Then we did an end of the day run.

That was when all hell broke loose.

It started off just like all the other reps. The metronome went off, we all turned back field, and I went into a mad sprint towards my set. And then I was looking up at the sky.

I guess I somehow missed the giant tenor drum coming right at me.

I hit Nicole.

Actually, I was more like trampled by Nicole.

I don't know how long I was down for. Not that long, because I managed to somehow get up and finish the rest of the show. Still, it hurt like hell. In four years of marching band, I had been hit by a mello, a trumpet, a trombone, and a cymbal, and I can honestly say that nothing compares to being nailed by a quad.

"Are you okay?" Nicole asked as soon as the run was over.

"I'm fine. Nothing's broken. I might have the imprint of a quad in my back until I'm thirty-five, but I'll be okay."

Of course, this set Nicole into a state of horror and she apologized about a hundred times.

"I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened. It was like no one was there and then all of the sudden BOOM! I hit you. I'm so sorry."

"Nicole," I told her, "It's fine. It's probably my fault anyways."

By now there was a crowd of people who had seen my epic wipe-out gathering around us now, including Britney. Apparently, everyone had seen it, and if you hadn't seen it, someone had told you about.

"That was impressive," Britney said.

"Thank you," I said doing a fake curtsy, "At this rate, you might even get a repeat performance tomorrow."

"God, I hope not," Nicole said.

"I wouldn't sweet it. Beth saw your little spill and said she's going to call Mike and see if he can makes some changes. We can't have our quads repeatedly wiping out our brass."

Even Beth saw my fiasco. What a great way to start off move-ins. Still, if I had to be slightly embarrassed in order to get this fixed, I was all for it.

Nicole poked me in the shoulder.

"Hey, looks like they're calling us in for a meeting."

I made my way over to the fifty, grateful for the end of this exhausting day.

An hour later, I was back in the dorm with an ice pack on back and sitting in front of Nicole's laptop. She had announced that it was a communal computer, so I decided that I would be the first of the community to use it. The two people we shared the shower with had called first dibs on the shower, meaning that Nicole and I had to wait. Nicole barely made it two step in the room before grabbing her sticks and pad and heading over to Danielle's room for a quad sectional (I swear, drummer can't ever handle not having sticks in their hands). I was too exhausted and soar to even think about going anywhere, so I was now alone and waiting for the shower to open up. I grabbed the computer to see if anyone at home was online.

After figuring out the basics of Nicole's Mac, I signed on to AIM to check on my former band-mates at home. Unfortunately, anyone who was on had an away message up, so I was lonely yet again.

Not wanting to sit doing nothing, I taped out a quick e-mail to Brian.

To: tromboneman4435

From: brasschick252

Brian,

You need to change your screen name. You haven't touched a trombone since, what? Grand Nats? I know you hate the baritone, but I think you're going to have to give. Trombone man isn't cutting it anymore :-D

The first day of move-ins has been pretty exciting. I was trampled by a quad player tonight during evening block. Apparently, I angered Mike Gains in past life and he is now out to get me.

Well, Nicole just walked in the room and judging by the look on her face, I think she wants her computer back. I will talk to you soon. Tell Em I say hi.

I contemplated typing "I miss you" at the end, but I thought that would be weird considering I had just seen him two nights ago (though it seemed so much longer). So instead, I gave my usual closing.

The one and only,

Kiwi

I looked up at Nicole glaring at me and then handed the computer back to her. Apparently I missed the part about asking permission first. I put the computer back, grabbed my stuff and went in search of some Tylenol for my poor bruised body.