Disclaimer: I do not own the Newsies. I do not even own most of OCs in this fic, seeing how the majority of them are based off of real people.

A/N: So, I'm back – hey, it wasn't that long of a wait this time! Here is the next chapter, I will warn you that it's rather long. Thanks to the two peoples who reviewed the last chapter: TifaBee and ktkakes.

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Day 3 – Tuesday

5:14 am

May all violins and their players die gruesome deaths. May they all burn in hell.

"Hilary, it's 5 am! Go back to sleep, damn you!"

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7:36 am

Dang. I had somehow managed to fall back asleep amidst Hilary's continuous practicing and now I had missed breakfast and would miss my symphonic band rehearsal if I didn't hurry. Jumping out of bed and quickly grabbing a pair of jeans, a white tank top, and a music geek t-shirt, I changed from my pjs in a record of fifteen seconds.

My rehearsal began at eight o'clock sharp, and I needed to get there five minutes early to put my bassoon together. It was a good four minute walk to the Concert Hall from my dorm room, and it took me six minutes to brush my teeth and do my hair and apply the little make-up I wore. That left me seven minutes to find something to eat. The red digital numbers on my clock changed and I only had six minutes left. Hurriedly, I slipped on my shoes and snatched my wallet.

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8:30 am

"No! No! Remember, 'we come to rehearsal to learn the other peoples' parts!' For example, Mr. Delancey, after you take your hand off Miss Franksen's thigh, please play for the band the 2nd clarinet's counter-melody at letter K2."

"What?"

"The 2nd clarinet's counter-melody at K2, please, Mr. Delancey."

"How am I supposed to know the 2nd clarinet's part? I'm the 1st trombone."

"I'm aware what position you are, Mr. Delancey, and I must say that I'm disappointed at your listening skills. Now let's try Mr. Corbiesero, 2nd clarinet counter-melody at K2, please."

Heads turned toward the 1st Horn, a shorter boy with a mop of messy brown hair. He closed his eyes briefly and then began a beautiful clean tune, with vibrant tone and flawless articulations.

"Bravo," Dr. Denton exclaimed when the horn had finished the strain. "There is a true musician, kids – yes, you can become quite sufficient on your instrument without developing your ear, but you will never become a great artist. Once you've trained your ear to pick out and recognize the other peoples' parts and how they work together, then you're on the road to glory. Today we are going to be working on developing your listening, so everyone gather up your music and your instrument and I'd like you all to move to a new spot in the band. Sit by some other instruments, instruments that are usually on the opposite side from you. I'll give you a few moments to get settled."

I took my music and my seatstrap and carried my bassoon over to the empty chair that happened to be next to the 1st Horn, Corbiesero. Sitting down, I situated myself and waited for the chaos to settle.

"Alright, quiet down now!" Dr. Denton was saying. "Everyone turn to one of your neighbors and introduce yourself . Tell them a little about you."

I turned towards the horn. "Julia," I offered.

"Nick," he answered.

"Your folder says 'Snipes'."

"Just a nickname."

"Oh."

"How many years have you been playing, Julia?"

"Two. You?"

"Four."

"Really? How old are you?"

"Thirteen."

"You're a freshman?"

"Going into eighth grade, actually."

"I forgot they let incoming eighth graders in," I explained. "Holy crap, you're only thirteen?"

"Yeah."

"You're really good."

"Thanks."

Dr. Denton's instructions came drifting from the front of the stage. "Now turn to your other neighbor and do the same thing."

I turned around and saw the 1st Oboe seated next to me.

"Um, hi."

"I'm Jason."

"Julia."

"Nice to meet you, Julia."

"So, how old are you? Twelve?"

He stared at me for a long moment. "I'm eighteen, just graduated."

"Oh," I laughed. "Well, I was prepared for anything. My other neighbor is only thirteen."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen, next month."

"Are you in orchestra?"

I felt my face redden. "Is that a polite way of asking why I sucked so bad yesterday?"

"No, I honestly couldn't remember."

"I'm the only female bassoon."

"I guess I was too entranced with my music – and trying to ignore Dennis."

"That's long enough, folks!" Dr. Denton shouted from his podium.

"Who's Dennis?" I whispered.

Jason smiled. "2nd Oboe."

"Oh."

"So, band, let's play this piece again," started Dr. Denton, "and believe me, you will be amazed by how different it sounds with your current arrangement."

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12:00 Noon

I rushed down the steps after Tony, glaring at his back, wishing I could glare holes into it. Jason had invited me to sit with him and his friends for lunch and it wasn't until later that I had remembered that I was skipping lunch for Tony's mandatory sectional.. And so here I was, following my section leader into the basement, unable to get word to Jason as to the change in plans. Screw this day! I screamed silently.

Tony chuckled. Wait, I hadn't actually screamed that aloud, had I?

"So Julia," he said as he let us into a practice room, "we have an hour – I say we should spend ten minutes warming up and tuning, ten on the Rimsky–Korsakov, ten on the Schubert, twenty on the Tchaikovsky, and ten minutes orally discussing any questions and suggestions about the music, allowing our embouchures time to rest before orchestra. How does that sound?"

"Hold on, there's a Tchaikovsky?"

He smiled. "Let's just say I have friends in high places," he said as as he opened his folder and handed me a Xerox of the original 2nd bassoon part. "We'll have to hide those before we get to rehearsal – but I know for a fact that Snyder's going to have people sight-read this piece today and I wouldn't be surprised if he picks on us again."

"Did David get you this?"

"Hush, don't worry about how I got it. The point is, I got it, right?"

"Is this how you were able to play that one section of the Rimsky-Korsakov right yesterday?"

Laughing, he began putting his instrument together. "No, but I played the Rimsky-Korsakov last year in symphony, remember?"

"Whatever."

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1:00 pm

After our sectional, I had to pee, so Tony went on ahead. By the time I got onstage, practically the entire orchestra was seated. As I neared my chair, squeezing past rows of people, I heard someone say in a loud voice, "Hey Tony, there's that wonderful 2nd bassoon of yours. God, why is she even here?"

I felt my face flush as I took my seat.

"I can't wait for the lovely soloing she's gonna do today."

"Shut up, Oscar," was Tony's reply.

"Make me! The only reason I can tolerate you in the ensemble is cause you can play halfway decent. She should give it up and save peoples' ears their agony."

Tony didn't answer.

"Yo, Tony! I'm talking to you! She should –"

"She is right here, and I know I sucked," I broke in angrily. "Now let it go, you jerkhead."

"Well hey, one mean name deserves another, right bitch?"

I heard someone turn around in their seat in front of me. "That's enough, Delancey. Drop it. Now."

"I was just having some fun, Skittery. You don't have to get all worked up about it."

I looked over my shoulder and saw Jason holding Oscar in a death gaze. "Leave her alone, Delancey," he warned.

"I'll do what I please."

"We'll see about that."

The sound of Snyder's sickening "attention"-cough caused everyone to turn back around in their chairs.

"If the group in the back is done with their catching up and chatting, I'd like to begin our rehearsal. I see that the bassoons are here – and expecting to play, I gather? Somehow I doubt they've improved much. But, we'll give them a chance to prove themselves, though they don't deserve one. I have a new piece, composed by Tchaikovsky, as a matter of fact. Let's hear them give it a try."

"David is my hero," I breathed a bit too loudly to Tony.

"What was that, Miss Michaels?" Snyder leered at me. "David whom is your hero?"

I froze for a moment then shrugged, hopefully nonchalantly. "I said, David is my hero – King David…I'm, er, Jewish. I was wishing good luck upon myself," I bs-ed.

"I see, but I highly doubt your King David will help you."

"But you're wrong 'cause he already has," I said under my breath, this time so only Tony could hear.

"Both bassoons together at measure 294. Begin."

Tony had predicted the exact spot Snyder would start us at – actually, he had tried to get me to bet on it, but I had passed. Needless to say, he predicted correctly.

Due to the extra practice, I had the notes under my fingers and had memorized the dynamics and phrasing. Neither of us missed a beat or a note or an accent or anything. As we finished, a round of applause went up. Snyder looked positively furious, and Jason turned around and gave me a thumbs up.

The rest of rehearsal went fine without a single remark in our direction from Dr. Snyder. What a relief.

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4:00 pm

Music History passed in a blur of notes and a growing cramp in my arm from raising my hand so many times. Apparently my background in music theory helped my understanding of music history, because everyone else seemed to not get the difference between the Romantic era and the Modern era of music.

"Um, modern music has lyrics?"

So stupid. So stupid!

Camp chorus was much better, the black-haired girl with pigtails turned out to be very friendly and invited herself and her roommate to dinner with me. I was very glad, it meant more people I could hang out with that weren't a part of Rachel's clique. Not that I disliked anyone in particular from her group of friends, it was just that they all knew each other already and were all really advanced on their instruments.

Choir ended with a poem – Ms. Larkson claimed that the poem had moved her to tears that morning and she felt that she just had to share it with us. It was quite intense – so much so that the black-haired girl, or Anne, as she introduced herself as, and I left the building unable to stop giggling.

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5:15 pm

I entered the dining hall alone, Anne having promised to meet me there with her roommate. Grabbing a tray and plate, I got in line for some pizza. Hilary was four people ahead of me, though when I gave her half of an unenthusiastic wave, she ignored me.

"Hey Julia," said a voice behind me. Anne appeared then at my side, her friend in tow. "This is Klara."

"Klara?!"

In shock I watched as Hilary stomped over to me and shook her empty tray in my face. "That's it! You think that I've been an awful roommate so far? I know you think that! Well guess what! I'm going to make your life total hell for the rest of camp! I hate you!"

Everyone was staring as Hilary stormed out of the dining hall.

"Oh my god, what a freak!" Anne announced loudly.

"Whoah, ladies, you seem well loved," Jason said as he joined us, eyebrow raised in amazement. "Does everyone react that way to you?" he asked me.

I rolled my eyes. "I have no friggin' idea what triggered that."

"I do," Klara said.

"Really?"

Anne smiled wryly. "Klara got 3rd seat violin. You might have heard of her?"

"Oh, you think?!" I snorted. "So you're the reason I get absolutely no sleep because my roommate is obsessed with passing you up?"

"Sorry?"

"And now it seems I've made a deadly enemy because I've spoken to you."

"Again, sorry?"

"No, it's cool."

Smirking, Jason shook his head. "Well, I was just on my way out – I have to go practice for the Student Honors Recital tonight."

"Dude, you're still here, Jason?"

A tall guy with dark brown hair emerged from behind the salad bar.

"That's Grekory Syzsmanski, or Snoddy, as we sometimes call him. He's my buddy from back home."

"Yeah, and you said that you had to leave us, not talk to some chick, just in case you forgot," Snoddy accused in a teasing way.

"Us?" I ask.

"Yeah, Grekory will have to introduce you to everyone, cause I have to go now. Oh," he said over his shoulder as he started for the door, "save me a seat in the audience – I'm second on the program."

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7:30 pm

We all crammed into the front row of the concert hall, giggling and shoving. Grekory's younger brother, Taras, seated himself in Anne's lap and smiled suggestively.

"Oh my god," she screamed as she pushed him off.

Grekory sighed, "Leave the girls alone, Itey, you're fourteen, for god's sake."

I turned at Taras's nickname – what was it with people and nicknames? I could understand 'Itey' because he was the little brother, after all. Ryan – Jason's roommate, the flutist – he was Blink because one of his eyes was weaker than the other and he had to wear a patch sometimes. But Snoddy and Skittery?

"Ryan, scoot one more over."

"If you insist, darling Klara."

"Sigh."

"Did you just say the actual word 'sigh', Julia?"

"Yes, I did."

"Freak."

"Thank you, Anne."

Kloppmann walked onstage to a chorus of hoots and catcalls. "Please be quiet," he said in a low monotone. "First up, we have Mr. Sebastian Conlon."

Applause.

"Taras, get your hand off my leg!"

"Itey!"

"Awwww…"

"Whoever that is poking me, knock it off!"

"Oh, that was Julia?"

"Yes."

"I thought you were Itey. Can you pass it along to him please?"

"He's a bit busy down the row with Anne, methinks."

"What the hell!"

"Calm down, Snoddy!"

"God, people, just listen to Spot play!"

"I will, Klara, once this little perv gets his hands off me!"

"That wasn't me this time, and I'm not a perv!"

"Then who was it?"

"Oh, sorry."

"Wait, who was that?"

"Look, there's Skitts!"

"WE LOVE SKITTERY JONES!"

"God, he's pretty hot."

"Anne!"

"What? He is!"

"God."

"Shhhhh!"

"Eick! Itey!"

"SHUT UP!"

We finally quieted down a bit as Jason left the stage and Specs took his place. Halfway through Specs tenor aria, the person on my left switched places with someone else -- for the second time in two days!

"Hey," Jason said.

"You were great up there."

"Did you all really have to stand up and scream "We love Skittery Jones?'"

"Blame Grekory," I said as I pointed the fault down the row. "It was all his idea."

Jason grinned and threw a pencil at his friend. "Thanks buddy."

"Anytime," the older Syzsmanski replied.

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9:00 pm

The concert finally finished and we got up to head over to the watermelon feast that was going to take place on the dorm lawn.

"Someone should totally go hug Kloppmann," Ryan randomly suggested as we reached the line for melons.

"Uh, yeah, and that should be you, Blink. Thanks for volunteering," Grekory laughed.

"You totally should," Klara encouraged. "I dare you to hug him, Ryan."

"Not while he's holding that knife!" he said, referring to the large untensil the counselor/instructor was using to cut the fruit.

"Swear to me that you'll hug him before camp is over!"

"Okay! I swear I'll hug Kloppmann before camp is over."

"Huzzah!"

Jason hooted. "She'll hold you to that, Blink!"

"I'm aware of that."

We reached the table. "Watermelon?" Kloppmann asked, waving the knife in our direction.

We burst out laughing, but I managed to nod my head and we were all handed a large slice of melon. Moving away from the table, we found a bench and sat down.

"I dare everyone, especially Klara, to eat the rind as well," Ryan challenged.

"That's disgusting, but you're on," Klara answered.

We all took a huge bite of our watermelons, rind and all. Jason lost his after only a few seconds of chewing. "And I'm out," he said, hands in the air.

The flavor was sickening, but the texture was even worse. Chunks of hard clammy rinds mixed with the sweet juicy insides. I braced my stomach and forced it down, as did the others.

Anne frowned. "Do we have to eat the whole thing, Blink?"

Ryan smiled, though a little uneasily. "Yep."

"Well, I ate one bite," Grekory said, "but there's no way I can eat any— ," he trailed off and ran for a bush.

"Sick," a rather green-looking Klara commented.

"Next bite, anyone?"

"You bet, Blink," Taras grinned.

Another bite, more inner battles with my gag reflex. Chomp. Chew. Swallow. Chomp. Chew. Swallow. Pretty soon both Anne and Klara dropped out. Then Ryan.

"That's it, I never want to eat watermelon again," Ryan groaned. "You both are insane."

Taras and I looked down at our last bites of melon and rind.

"Sigh," I said.

Jason sniggered.

Chomp. Chew. Swallow. Everyone applauded.

"That was so gross!" I screeched.

Taras, however, jumped up onto the ledge of the bench and whooped. "Who's up for round two?!"

"No wait!" Jason countered quickly. "My stomach can't take any more of that torture! We should have piggyback races."

"Random!" sang Anne.

Ryan nodded. "Random, but an awesome idea."

"There are three girls, four if you count Itey – ow! you didn't have to kick me, you little bugger! – and three guys."

"I'm not a girl, Snoddy!"

"You're the referee."

"Fine."

I shake my head, trying to process the sudden decision. "Wait, what?"

"Hop on," Jason said, squatting by the bench. "Ryan and Snoddy, get a girl."

Taras began shouting in a loud auctioneer-like voice, "Well, ain't this interesting folks, the girls are riding the guys! Oo-hoo-hoo!"

"Itey!"

"Fine bro -- on your marks, get set, and go! Ladies and gentlemen, they're off, running like gazelles towards the finish line…where I'm supposed to be – oh shit!"

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10:30 pm

The counselors eventually rounded us up and sent us inside to our segregated floors, which sucked because not only was I separated from the guys, but Anne and Klara were down on the first floor and I was stuck on the third. Of course things had to get worse because I ran into Rachel.

"Julia, where were you at dinner and afterwards?"

Awkward. "Um, I was hanging with some other friends."

"Oh," she said, looking at me with a odd expression. "Whatever."

I ducked into the ladies' restroom as she walked away, not wanting to have to follow her all the way down the hall to my room. It was strange – I liked Rachel, and she had been nice to me, but it felt so weird now that I made some friends of my own. When I was sure she was gone, I tiptoed to my room.

Hilary refused to acknowledge my presence when I entered the room, so I set about getting ready for bed. Annoyed, I turned out the lights and climbed under my covers.

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2:10 am (Wednesday)

I had to pee. Clicking on my flashlight, I reached for my door key, but I couldn't find it in the dark, so I decided to just leave the door ajar. The bathroom was a ways down the hall. It was creepily silent and I hurried, wanted nothing more than to be curled up in my arm bed again.

Approaching my door on the way back, I noticed it was shut. What the heck? Jiggling the doorknob, I found it to be locked. I thought I had propped it open -- strange. Luckily, I still had a bobby pin in my hair from earlier and had been taught to pick locks by a bored older cousin at a family reunion a couple years back. After a few tries, I felt the lock turn. Sighing with relief, I pushed the door open and came to a noisy stop as the wood smashed into the metal of the chain bolt that had been put in place.

Oh great. Two in the morning and locked out of my dorm room by a vengeful roommate. Never underestimate the power of a pissed off violinist!

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A/N: Please review!

-- pj