As soon as my head hit the pillow, the alarm seemed to ring out.

I groaned and rolled over, shutting it off. It was only 6:30, and camp doesn't start till 8, but you can't be late for the first day of band camp. Mr. D has a rule in band: If you're early, you're on time. You're on time, you're late. You're late, you're dead. It was law—always has been, always will.

Anyway, I sat up and threw my legs over the bed, willing myself forward. I've never been a morning person. Ugh. I walked to the kitchen where Doc, my old German shepherd, dozed underneath the table. Doc had been the subject of many of Ben and I's adventures. He's old—around 12—but still knows how to get around. He had run off many times, and being in the southern region of NC, we have a ton of woods and creeks running through our backyards. Doc would take off through the tangle of woods and Ben and I, being like 8, would take off after him, getting caught in all the tree branches and briars and who-knows-what-else. But, I can't deny that all the times we spent chasing after Doc were some of the best times we spent together.

I started making some coffee and gave Doc his food, going to the bathroom to get ready. I pulled out a pair of blue gym shorts and my red Fall Out Boy shirt. Band camp is conflicting for me because all my band shirts are black, and with 97° heat, black isn't an option. But, I've managed to get by. Anyway, I put my hair up in a bun (its best when your hair isn't hanging down in your face), put on my Cookie Monster hat that Ben and I bought—his Elmo—for the very reason of band camp, and checked my coffee. I poured a cup and added my milk & sugar. Then, I got a bowl and made some Fruit Loops. I usually skip breakfast, but, as with everything else, you can't do that with band camp.

After I drank my coffee and ate my cereal, I checked the time. It was 7:10. Putting on my pair of old tennis shoes, I grabbed my bag, phone and keys, heading out the door. I got my license a year early because whenever my mom had a car accident, she was left with her leg broken, and incapable of driving. She's fine now, though, and I got to keep my license. I had to pick up Ben because his parents were at work (they worked night shifts until 9 am) and he lived on the way anyway.

"Ready for band camp, Benny Boy?" I smiled as he got into my old blue truck.

"Don't call me that," he interjected, and then smiled. "I'm ready. I miss everybody."

His hair was a pretty brown color and long in the front, but short in the back, kind of like one of those guys whom we call sceenie weenies. He had on his Elmo hat over it with his maroon Crimson Tide shirt and grey gym shorts.

That's another thing Ben and I have in common—our love of Alabama Crimson Tide football. I was at his house every game, cheering on Roll Tide. My mom doesn't get why I'm a girl, yet a huge football fanatic, but Ben said it was cool, as did his parents, so I'm alright.

We pulled into the school parking lot and I instantly spotted Ashlyn getting out of her dad's car. "Ash!" I called smiling. She spotted us and said bye to her dad, then rushed over to us, hugging me and then Ben. "Hey you guys!"

"You ready for today?" I asked her.

She nodded. "Mr. D said I could march bass clarinet instead of barry this year!"

I knew she was excited. Mr. D would usually tell her to march barry sax because "you can't hear the bass clarinet well." But, this year, I guess he changed his mind.

"He said I could as long as you play piccolo." She said, and then looked at me hopefully. I sighed. Mr. D was determined to make me march with that piccolo for two years. I hated piccolo. It took a ton of air, and we usually only used one, so if I dropped out, it was noticeable. But still… Ash had wanted to march bass clarinet for a while now. I couldn't let her down.

I sighed. "I'll do it."

She hugged me and said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"I'm marching tenors this year," Ben threw in. We looked at him. "Ben, you march tenors every year."

He shrugged. "You guys were marching different things… I wanted to pretend like I was."

I laughed and hugged him. "Aw, it's okay, Benny boy. You're the best drummer we have."

He smiled that perfect smile of his and said, "And you'll be the best piccolo player ever."