marching-band

Myron, all six feet of super cuteness, comes forward. He smiles and I almost die, because he has one adorable dimple. Instead of getting embarrassed about his first name, he offers his hand and says, __all me McDaniel.

Denny gave me a strange look when I showed up in the band room, but I have always believed playing drums is no excuse not to look cute. Besides, if McDaniel shows up, I want to look my best. Oh, crap, I should be paying attention. __id you hear anything I said?__ answer honestly, __o.__enny runs a hand through his spiked hair and asks, __o you really want to learn how to march?___ have to learn to march if I want to be a part of the section, right?___ight.___hen, it doesn__ really matter if I want to do anything. It__ something I have to do.__enny looks confused and partially like he__ completely regretting the decision to add me to his section, but proceeds to teach me drill for the better part of two hours. While we run through the steps, I look longingly over at my quints, which I have secretly decided to name Quincy.

Denny and McDaniel go into the percussion room and grab a bizarre metal contraption. Denny lifts it over his head and I give him a strange look, to which he responds like I__ a five year old, __arr-i-er.

Band has really been the one thing that allows me to experience somewhat of a distraction. They say music heals, right? I'm able to exist in all my weirdness right in the middle of a big crowd of people, but all I really have to focus on is playing my own part, marching with the correct foot, and being where I__ supposed to be on the field. - Rigby Raines

I__ basically a nobody in the trumpet section. I like it that way. I hate being in front of people. I think I__ too nervous, or anxious, or something. The only time I ever played a solo was that time during concert band that I accidentally played during a rest. The whole band was silent and I honked out a right note at the wrong time. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to hide in my band locker. - Rigby Raines