The "plan"

Nervously bouncing my knee up and down, I sat in my black cocktail dress. All of the parents, instructors and students were sitting there waiting patiently, but I could not stand still. My best friend was to mi right just as nervous as I. Most Outstanding Junior, Most Improved Junior, and all the other awards that I did not care about were called. I just wanted to hear my name for the last award. If my name were to be read, my whole life would be changed in one instant. What started out as a stupid plan to skew the traditional outcome of Drum Major, had become the only thing I wanted most.

In the first year of marching band, every member of the band is only given the basics. March from here to there, stay with the beat, memorize your music, and show up for practice on tome. A lot of the details are unknown, such as the duties and functions of the Drum Major. In my rookie year, the Drum Major scared me. She was loud, forceful, stern, and demanded everyone’s respect. Even the directors seemed like they did not want to be on her bad side. Until February 2005, I had not even thought about trying out for that position.

The history of Drum Majors in our school had been the same for the past four years. They were all blonde, blue eyed, female, and for some reason they were all from the same church. My best friend, Machala and I had decided that was enough. It was time for this “tradition” to change. We both stood there completely opposite to the past Drum Majors, physically and mentally. Machala played the clarinet and was the best in her section. She had been taking lessons ever since she started playing. We had both been in band for around seven years. Looking at the sign up list, we had noticed that one of the girls trying out, Amy, met all the criteria of the past Drum Majors. This could not happen again. Unfortunately there was something else that she had that would be ridiculously satisfying to the instructors. Her parents were both the president and the vice-president of the Band Boosters and had been for four years. They were at every band function, well known by the community and band members, and were the type of people you just had to like. Machala and I did not have that advantage. We were lucky if our parents showed up to our performances or to pick us up from practice. How could we compete with a girl that fit every “traditional” Drum Major aspect and her parents were thought of so highly by the instructors that would be holding the auditions. Machala and I knew that we could do this. Amy was good, but not as musically advanced as the both of us were. I also had my advantages on Amy, Machala, and the others trying out. I was amazing at finding and keeping the tempo and I have the ability to hear in perfect pitch. Perfect pitch is a very rare talent to come by and I was finally in a position where I could use it to my advantage. Also, the fact that Machala and I were on the directors good side gave us a small advantage.

Standing there in front of the never ending white board with the small piece of paper taped crookedly on it, reading “DRUM MAJOR AUDITIONS: Sign Up.” Machala and I formulated our plan.

“Let’s sign up,” I suggested. “If one of us makes it then we can break the tradition.”

“There are two spots open this year! What if we both make it? That would be awesome!”

“Well at least one of us could, because we can’t have Amy be Drum Major.”

As the pens touched the paper neither one of us knew that our lives were changing.

Unfortunately, the meetings had already started a couple of weeks earlier and