Tom sat on a drum major podium in front the 130 wind players. They were playing scales and marching back and forth. He was keeping time by beating a steady, moderate tempo on a blue colored block with a drum stick. Occasionally, he spat bits of advice at the wind players. "Point your toes higher!" "Stand up straighter!" "An invisible fishing rod is pulling your head toward the sky!" "Point your horn 15 degrees above level!" He also kept telling them that even though it was only scales, they had to connect and play all the way through the phrases. He plunged his hand through the air to further demonstrate his point. A brown haired girl wearing a metronome around her neck joined him on the podium.

"They have you breathe, you know," she reminded him.

Tom sighed. He was a percussionist. He did not need to breathe when he played his instruments. The girl looked out toward the band but her focus was hazy. She was smiling but Tom still found the sadness behind her determination to make it through the day. How could she be expected to hide her sadness completely? It had only been seven months. And she was only seventeen.

Only nine short years and a few inches of air were separating the pair. He was determined to make this year special for this girl and for the entire band. It was his purpose. No matter how much he wanted to go back to graduate school or audition for the National Symphony Orchestra, he would put everything aside to be the man this band needed him to be. This year belonged to the Stonecroft High School Marching Band.

The August heat was particularly fierce that summer. The morning of the first day of band camp was coming to a close. The band had arrived at the school four hours ago. Tom, the beloved percussion instructor, had greeted them and led them to the parking lot to practice fundamentals. In previous years, the freshmen were required to attend two days of rookie camp so that they would be up to speed when the upperclassmen arrived. This year, however, was a fresh start for everyone. Everyone was going to begin this year together, on the same day.

The morning of the first day of band camp was drawing to a close. Tom stood on the podium to dismiss the band for lunch. They needed the time to gather their thoughts. After the dismissal, the brown hair girl stumbled off the podium and matched Tom's pace as they walked back to the school.

"Madison Brooks!" a dark haired boy hollered after the girl when she reached the school. "The clarinets are going to Pete's today for lunch for section bonding. Come with us!" Madison nodded and followed the boy to his car where 3 freshmen were already crammed into the back seat. She reached for the passenger door and climbed inside.

The dark haired boy settled in the driver's seat next to her. His skin glistened with sweat and he smelled of bug spray and sunscreen. Madison smiled for the first time all morning. He started the car and headed down the street to the local burger restaurant.

"DUNNNNNN DUMMMMM DAAAAAA!" the freshmen clarinet players sang loudly in the band. Madison recognized it as the first movement of the show. They had been practicing. Madison stared out the window and remembered how great it was to be a freshman. No expectations, endless possibilities, and a great big world to explore. And most importantly, no disappointments.

"Tell me what happened," the boy told her. She hated when he could read her mind.

"I'm fine," she told him.

"No you're not."

"Yes I am."

"No you're not."

This was why Patrick Muller was Madison's best friend. He always knew when Madison was in trouble and he was always at her side. The relationship could date all the way back to seventh grade. Today, they began their adventure as seniors. It would be their last adventure before college. It was a journey Madison had looked forward to since they were freshmen. But this year, the backdrop of the adventure was not exactly as Madison had envisioned.

"DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA!" the freshman seemed to be singing even louder. One of them was double tonguing. Overachiever, Madison thought.

"Can you guys sing at a more piano dynamic?" Patrick asked them as he slowed down for a stop sign. "And anyone who learns to double tongue any part of the show will be labeled as an overachiever and will be mocked profusely."

"But Jesse said…" a freshman began but Patrick cut him off.

"Jesse is a know-it-all and a show off."

Madison snorted. Jesse McIntire and Patrick Muller were the clarinet section leaders and equally matched in talent. Both of them were aspiring music education majors and were applying to a number of wonderful universities. Jesse's grades were much higher than Patrick's but Patrick had a work ethic and way with children that Madison felt would get him much further in life. All of the seniors got along well with Jesse but no one could resist joking about his sometimes uptight attitude or overachieving tendencies.

Patrick pulled on the parking break, a sign to Madison that the gang had arrived at Pete's Burger Palace. The freshman hurried inside but Madison hesitated. Patrick pulled her in for a hug.

"Madison, you have been looking forward to this year since we were in 7th grade. You have everything you ever wanted. Don't let any drama get in the way of that. I can't promise that it will be easy but I can promise that I will be at your side every day until graduation. You're probably stuck with me much longer than that anyway," he whispered. A car honk caused them to jump apart.

"Senior year!" Chris Blues yelled as he abruptly stopped the car. Half the trombone section practically fell out of the minivan that belonged to Mrs. Blues. He ran to Madison, picked her up, and spun her around. Madison hit Chris on the back and hollered for him to put her down.

"Chris, for goodness sake, put her down!" Amy Trowser said loudly. Chris blushed, put Madison down, and kissed Amy on the cheek. Amy shoved him away playfully.

"Looks like the trombones had the same idea as you guys," Amy said smiling.

"Your section bonding day is usual the first Wednesday of band camp," Patrick said. Madison could tell he wasn't angry. He was simply curious about the change.

"It is," Chris explained, "but we felt, due to recent events, we should have section bonding as soon as possible."

"It's been seven months!" trombone senior Jason Sharp announced. He seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Oh you are just mad that you aren't section leader of the best section ever!" Chris said and punched him in the arm. Then he planted a huge, wet kiss on Amy's forehead.

"And split up you two lovebirds?" Jason said with a raised eyebrow. "I would never."

The clarinets and trombones ordered burgers and found seats without separating by instrument. This seemed to annoy Jason but Madison ignored it. The conversation was light and the sections shared old stories with the freshman for the next hour. Patrick gripped Madison's hand tightly under the table.

When they returned to the school, Madison said goodbye to Amy and Chris. She then followed Patrick and Jesse to the choir room for sectionals.

"Maddie," Patrick said slowly, "maybe you should, you know, stop avoiding him." Madison bit her lip. Jesse directed her toward the storage room where all the uniforms were kept.

Madison hesitated for a moment and then nodded to the clarinet sections leaders. She would have to face him sometime.

"You know where to find us if you need us," Jesse hollered after her.

She pulled on the storage room door to reveal a long, narrow room lined with over 250 uniforms. It was cold and silent except for the shuffling of some paper. A red-headed teenager sat in the middle of the room sorting paper. He did not look up.

She dropped her bag against the wall and approached him. Leave it to Jason to get down to business immediately after lunch. She noticed that he too smelled like sunscreen and bug spray. She could now see that he was sorting stand music into piles by instrument. He still did not look at her. Her unsteady hand reached out to help but he snatched the pile away from her. The movement startled her and she hesitated for a moment before joining him on the floor.

"Madison, look at this crap," he said angrily and shoved a pile of unsorted music into her hands. Madison looked down. A few titles of familiar top 40 hits from the past three decades seemed to smile up at her.

"These look like fun," Madison almost whispered, unsure of why he was upset.

"A student did not arrange them," he explained, crossing his arms over his chest. Madison suddenly understood. Six years ago, the stand tunes the marching band played at halftime were less than satisfactory. A group of talented seniors had taken it upon themselves to arrange classic and modern tunes for the band to play. Incoming underclassman made sure music arranged by graduated seniors lived on and also added their own stand tunes to the collection. The disappointed red-headed boy that sat before her had contributed a number of stand tunes.

"Perhaps we can play them all," Madison suggested. The red-headed boy finally looked up and found Madison's piercing green eyes. "Senior year is not supposed to be about change."

Madison swallowed. He was right. Senior year was supposed to be about going through everything one last time before everyone went separate ways. It was supposed to feel like one last victory lap before everyone was pulled into a world of majors, dorm life, and college football. It was supposed to be their year. But now, with a new band director from a small town in another state, the seniors of the Stonecroft High School Marching Band faced a year with as much uncertainty as the incoming freshmen.

"Jason," Madison whispered but Jason cut of whatever it was she was going to add.

"You should read his biography. He did a lot in Alabama. I reckon we'll meet him tomorrow," he told her a handed her a piece of paper he had printed off the computer. She took it. A large man looked back at her with a short article underneath. This was the man that was going to make senior year a little less complicated. At least they would have a band director again. Finally, she looked up.

"How can I help?" she asked him. She moved as close as could without feeling uncomfortable. She wanted to let him know she was on his side even if they didn't get along.

With that, the red headed boy picked up the backpack that had been resting beside him and pulled out more stand tunes to sort. A tiny tear escaped Madison's eyes as she caught the pink ribbon pinned to the center of Jason's bag. She wiped it away as Jason turned to look at her. A forced smile appeared on her face but there was no hiding the sadness in the air. After all, it had only been seven months.

This is a story I have wanted to tell for a long time and it probably won't be short. I am going to try to update at least once a week. Reviews are always appreciated :)