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When You Flip The Page…
By: Azariael
Chapter One: Marching B…wait…what??
Full Summary: It’s the end of Marc’s Junior Year, and he can’t wait for his Senior Year starting for the third year in a row on the Varsity Football Team. However, according to his schedule, he will not have enough credits to graduate. The guidance counselor gives him two options: To join the Marching Band, or to take up Home Economics, and get rid of a study hall. Marc painfully chooses Marching Band, leaving his football career behind.
Now, what will his “friends say? How will his girlfriend deal with it? More so, how will the band react? Will this large family be able to put up with this newbie and continue their winning streak? Will Marc be able to march to the band’s perfect standards?
Author’s Note: This is my first Marching Band fanfiction I’m warning you, the point of views might change between first person (ex: I said this to her…) to third person (ex: He said this to her…). Don’t worry though; I will let you know before hand. Oh, and the music is BASED off of POTC, for I wanted it to be piraty, but different, cause, you know, I can’t copy write, but if it does get to familiar, I will just say now, I don’t own POTC.
I looked at John, a wide receiver, and grinned, “I plan to sleep,” I say.
John pouted, “Aw, Marc, you’re no fun at all. What about all the parties?”
“Heh, you speak like you’re already in college. Don’t forget that we are technically still juniors,” I inform him.
“Not for long, my friend, not for long,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulder. What he said was true, there was only two days left of school.
“Excuse me, I believe that’s my position,” hissed a chocolaty voice. My girlfriend, Bethany, came up behind us, and “shoved” John out of the way, and took her place at my side.
“Hey, Beth,” I greet her.
“Hey. Marc,” she mocked, placing her head on my shoulder. We had met at the beginning of the year, at our first game of the season. Beth was a cheerleader, and I, a starter on the varsity team. Near the middle of the year, we started dating.
“Did you turn in you schedule yet?” she asked, flipping her blonde hair over my shoulder. Her salon-styled tanned skin and bleached hair made her the perfect cheerleader, and immediately got her accepted into our group at the beginning of the year. You see, Beth had just moved.
“Yeah, I did, and, the way I set it up, I’m going to have a very important study hall,” I explain proudly.
“Great,” exclaimed John, “you’re going to need it, considering you put off your senior exit project until the last minute.”
“I didn’t put it off, I just couldn’t decide on what to do it on.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, there, Marc.”
“Marc, guess what!” exclaimed Beth, and I was grateful for the change of subject.
“What?” I ask as she turned her brown eyes towards mine.
“I might be able to be captain, or co-captain!”
“Really!” I exclaim, “That’s great.” At our school, you have to be in the cheerleading squad for about three years before you’re considered to be the head. This rule is only amended if you show talent…or you suck up.
Beth flashed me a smile, “I know.” I returned the smile, and pulled her closer to me.
“Excuse me,” coughed the motherly voice of our guidance counselor.
Beth and I sprang apart, PDA wasn’t looked well upon.
“Hello, Mrs. Maisy,” all three of us said together. Mrs. Maisy was young woman, recently married, with maternal instincts the size of the Jupiter. She was one of those people, that even if you did the stupidest thing, Mrs. Maisy wouldn’t yell. She’d look at you softly, and say ‘This is really disappointing.’ However, she said it with such sincerity that made you cry.
“Hello, everyone,” Mrs. Maisy said cheerfully, “Hey, um, Marc, can I see you for a second?”
“Sure,” I say, unwrapping myself from Beth and getting up. Mrs. Maisy walked off to a hallway, near the Restrooms. Of course, I followed. I noticed how I loomed over her slight frame. Always, I find it fascinating, that I am now taller than most of my teachers. I had thought that was a sign of adulthood…
“Okay,” she begins, “I need to talk to you about your schedule.”
“What about it?”
“Well, you signed up for two study halls…”
I knew this, I did it so that I had one to do regular homework, and one just for my exit project, “Yeah, I know.” Honestly, I thought it was good idea…
Mrs. Maisy looked at me softly, in a stern way, “I’m afraid, next year, you’re not going to have enough high school credits to graduate.”
Wait… “I’m…wait…what?”
She looked at me harder, “You don’t have enough credits, Marc.”
Credits? I didn’t even know we had credits, “Well, then, how can I get these credits?”
“Well, your study halls are scheduled for 2nd period, and 9th period,” I nod and she continues, “there no classes available for the earlier one, yet, you have a choice of two for the later.”
“Okay,” I say slowly, making sure I catch every word, “and they are?
“Well, one of the choices is Home Economics.”
I involuntarily shuddered. The Home Ec teacher was a ghastly man with a bald spot, and greasy hair surrounding it. He was short, and would shoot down your self-esteem faster than trigger-happy pregnant woman. Needless to say, no one liked him, and the only people in his class were the ones who wanted to learn how to make clothing, and such.
Mrs. Maisy seemed to share my feelings, “And the other option is, of course, the Marching Band.”
I start, “What, the Marching Band? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“No I’m not, Marc. The Marching Band is the only other elective that has room for more people.”
My eyes narrow, the Marching Band is always going to have room for more people. If our school wasn’t an AA school, it would barley have its 92 people.
Mrs. Maisy doesn’t miss a beat, “It’s either that, Home Ec, or doing some summer school program that costs money.”
I sigh, obviously defeated, “I’ll join the Marching Band.”
Mrs. Maisy stops, “Wait, you can’t just say you’ll join.”
“Why not?”
“Can you even play an instrument?” When she says this, I blush to the root of my hair, and mumble something under my breath.
“Can you? If you can’t, you’d have to join the color guard.” Hearing this, I pale. If I have to join this organization, I’m joining it with all the dignity and masculinity as I would be able to muster.
“Yes.” I say quietly. You see, I joined the band in 5th grade, everyone did. However, I quit in 6th grade, because it wasn’t ‘cool’. However, the instrument I rented, the trumpet, wasn’t paid off, so my mom forced me to take lessons. I’ve been taking those lessons ever since.
“You do?”
“Shhh!” I hiss, pressing a finger to my mouth. Nobody knows this, and I would die of embarrassment if the had.
Smart Mrs. Maisy, she caught on fast, “What instrument?” she whispers.
“The trumpet,” I whisper back.
“So you’ll join?”
“Yes.” Immediately, a weight falls on my shoulders, one I’ve never felt before, and I suddenly feel like Atlas, having to carry the world.
“You know this is a commitment right? You’ll have to quite football,” she reminds me.
The world on my shoulders just grew, “I know…”
Mrs. Maisy smiles brightly, “Great, you’ll have to tell you parents or guardian, and I will change you schedule immediately.”
I try to smile back, and it comes out as a grimace.
She pats my back, “Don’t worry about it. When you flip the page of the novel, you never know what’s on the other side.”
With another pat, Mrs. Maisy leaves, and I press my head against the wall.
The metaphor was cool and all but she forgot one thing.
When you flip the page of the novel, you might get a cliffhanger.
A high, steep, with sharp pointy rocks at the bottom, cliffhanger.