"He's in band, too, you know," Dad points out over dinner later.
"Who?" I inquire through a mouthful of burrito.
"Chase," he admits smugly.
"Why are you so obsessed with him?" I wonder aloud.
"I just have a good feeling about him is all."
I glance quizzically at him before returning to my food. After dinner, I start in on the show music. Technically, it's somewhat demanding, with quick runs and extremely long phrases. Stylistically, it isn't too complicated-a march style here, a melodramatic ballad, a fanfare call/response idea, the same typical theme. I have been playing for less than ten minutes when I hear a knocking from the floor and a voice yelling for me to stop. A quick look at the clock tells me that I'm probably interrupting primetime television or just their evening quiet time in general, that is, until a driving bass began thumping up from below. Our downstairs neighbors are having a party. Go figure.
Dad knocks twice on my bedroom door, and I let him in. "Sweetie, you might wanna wrap it up and start thinking about going to bed. Early morning tomorrow."
"Early morning? For what?" He hadn't mentioned anything about what's happening tomorrow.
"Registration and uniform fitting tomorrow morning for you. 7AM to noon, but we also have a long day of moving in ahead of us."
The words, minus the part about moving, are music to my ears. I rush to put my horn back into its case and get ready for bed. After showering and getting all tucked into my sleeping bag on top of my mattress (The sheets are in one of the many still-packed boxes), I close my eyes and dream.
In my dream, I'm standing on a football field in the middle of a block of faceless people. The drum major counts off and as I step off, the tiny, empty high school stadium suddenly becomes Lucas Oil Stadium filled with thousands of fans. The show is all a blur of highs and lows, step-offs and halts, and as I come to my final horns down, the crowd goes wild.
Just like that, I wake up to sunlight streaming through my window. 8AM, my phone tells me. I get up and get dressed, then head out to the kitchen. Dad hands me a banana, muttering, "Come on, we're late." We dash to get out of the apartment, me excited as I ever have been, him trying to remember his checkbook and about a million other things.
As we drive to the high school, I can barely contain myself. It's so surreal: I'm going to be back in band!