Here is Convergence. I hate to say this but updates will be slow. Sorry, but I've got jazz band, percussion ensemble, theatre, work, and a whole bunch of other stuff going on. And Silv's got tech crew... and her boyfriend. Yeah...

So, on to the story. To begin there will be two prologues, one from the point of view of each of our characters. So to begin, here's my character Drake Foley.

Enjoy!

Prologue: The Life of a Drum Major

“To be drum major you have to demand respect from your band. If you don’t, your band will never listen to you.”

That’s what my father told me on my first day as drum major during my junior year. Except I believe that my father was slightly off in saying this. I seem to remember the saying being something about to demand respect you have to give respect.

But whatever.

My father has always had a slightly warped version of the world, or at least of the Arden Lake Marching Band. My father was the first drum major at Arden Lake and since then it has been said that my family has had a sort of monopoly on being the Arden Lake drum major. Except that’s not exactly what happened.

It all started with my parents. Besides my father being the Arden Lake drum major, my mother was the head drum major for Marshville High School, Arden Lake’s biggest rival. With two former drum majors as parents my older brother Markus, my older sister Renée and I all grew up living and breathing marching band and drum corps. And when it came to joining marching band in ninth grade it was either join or be disowned.

Markus tried out for drum major during his sophomore and junior years and became drum major for his senior season. Being basically a younger version of my father, Markus went to all lengths to be drum major. His arrogance and strict attitude lead him to be hated by most of the band.

Renée was drum major the next season (her senior year) only out of spite for my father and to prove him wrong. Before then she had never expressed and desire to become drum major. But amazingly enough my crazy, footloose, tuba-playing sister became probably one of the best drum majors that Arden Lake has seen in years.

Which leads to me. Breaking the year old tradition I became drum major for my junior year. And breaking even more tradition, I proposed to Mr. Stevens, the band director, that Arden Lake needed two drum majors.

“You did what?” my father responded, well more like yelled, when I told him. Yes, this will be a wonderful conversation.

“We’re holding drum major auditions father,” I said calmly, or at least tried to.

“You better not be-”

“No father, I am not giving up being drum major,” I said cutting him off. “There’s going to be two drum majors at Arden Lake next season.”

“Why would you need two drum majors? If Stevens is saying that you’re not good enough to be drum major…”

I sighed. Why did he always have to be like this?

“Mr. Stevens didn’t propose it father. I did.”

Why don’t we just summon the executioner now and get it over with?

“Why in the world would you even consider doing something like that?”

Thankfully my sister jumped in at this point. “Dad, do you know how hard it is to have only one drum major when everyone is spread across the field? When you have a small band it’s difficult to fill up the space and so the solution is to spread everyone out. And even when everyone is compact it’s impossible for everyone to be able to see the drum major. During my senior year the low brass and mellophones couldn’t see me for half of the show.”

Enter the idiot. “Renée, does it seriously matter that the low brass can see the drum major? As long as the trumpets can see the drum major it doesn’t matter. They always have the melody so obviously they’re the most important section in the band.”

Open mouth, insert foot.

“It matters, Markus, because if there wasn’t a need for all of the other instruments we wouldn’t have them in the band. You see, they are necessary because they are essential to the band. If we didn’t have low brass instruments, we wouldn’t have the wonderful bass lines to accompany the melody. If we didn’t have mid-range voices, like the french horns or saxes, we wouldn’t have the harmonies or counter melodies and if we didn’t have the high woodwinds you, as a trumpet player, would have to play all of those wonderful sixteenth note runs at tempo 180. So as you can see Markus, the other sections of the band are a whole heck of a lot more important than the trumpet section.”

Markus opened his mouth for rebuttal when I decided it would be best to cut him off and not have to listen to bickering about the band’s most important section for the next twenty minutes.

“Drum major auditions are next Thursday, father,” I said looking over at him, hoping to escape this battle with all limbs still attached.

“Fine. If you want to let Stevens take away being drum major from you, go ahead. I won’t stop you.”

I seriously doubt that, but at least my chance of escaping with all appendages still attached is increasing.

“Father, I will still be head drum major. Whoever is chosen will be conducting from the side of the field or from backfield.”

I can tell that my father actually considers this for a moment before he continues.

“Has Stevens announced the show yet?”

Finally a change of subject. I let out a sigh of relief.

“No.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Yes.”

“Will it require a second drum major to get higher scores than Marshville?”

Okay, maybe it wasn’t a change of subject. But at least he’s actually considering Arden Lake having dual drum majoring. Majoring? Is that even a word?

“Yes, with the difficulty of the music it will be essential for everyone to see the drum major at all times.”

He paused for a moment. “Hold the auditions. But Stevens better let you have a say in who becomes drum major.”

“Yes, father.”

Yes! All limbs are still attached!

I dismissed myself from the dinner table and escaped up to my room. Telling father was definitely a lot easier than I thought it would be. I expected him to be as angry as he was when Markus told him he wanted to try out for football, or when Renée announced that she had auditioned for drum major, or when mother…

But he wasn’t. Strangely enough he was actually quite civil.

“DRAKE FOLEY, GET DOWN HERE!”

Or not.

I stood outside the band office and put my hand up to knock on the door. Until it opened. And a person stood there.

“Foley, are you trying to knock my face in?” he asked.

“Possibly.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Foley. You do realize that I have the ability to replace you as drum major, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Do you have the list?”

“Yes. Auditions are scheduled every fifteen minutes starting at 3:00.”

“When is the last one?”

I checked the list. “5:45.”

He looked at me like I had just told him that I ran over his cat with a semi.

“I didn’t realize wanting to be drum major was so popular.”

“The list is half as long as it was before,” I said encouragingly, checking the list for who was first.

“How’d you eliminate eleven people?”

“There was a reason for those forms, you know.”

“You actually read all of those?”

“Plus section leader applications.”

“You’re nuts.”

I grabbed the applications and walked to the ensemble room where we were holding auditions and saw that the first applicant was already waiting.

“Hi Drake!” one of the sophomores (aka the first applicant) said a bit too excitedly.

A voice behind me whispered.

“Welcome to Hell, Drake Foley.”

“The results should be posted tomorrow before second hour. Thank you for auditioning and good job.”

I ushered the second to last applicant out the door. She had talked a bit too long and we were ten minutes behind schedule. I looked for the last applicant, but saw no one.

“Is it as much fun as you thought it would be Drake?”

“Not particularly.”

“Who’s next?”

“Lauren Carter, but she isn’t here.”

“That’s odd. Isn’t she the punctual one out of the clarinet section?”

I heard hurried footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Sorry for being late,” the brunette sophomore clarinet player panted when she arrived. “Lessons went over and my mom forgot to pick me up and I just spilled my milkshake all over her new car.”

“That’s alright. Just take a seat and we’ll start once you’re able to breathe again,” Mr. Stevens told her.

She sat down and dropped her snow-covered bag on the ground.

“So, it’s snowing pretty hard out there then?” Mr. Stevens asked.

“Not really. I accidentally dropped my bag in the snow bank when I spilled my milkshake on the passenger seat of my mom’s car.”

I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

“Well, why don’t we start off with the directing part? I’ll play the two excerpts from last year’s show that you were given and just try your best to direct along with the CD.”

“Okay, but I’m not that good.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Drake wasn’t very good either.”

I glared over at him.

“Ready?”

“…Sure,” she answered shakily.

“Press the button Drake.”

“I thought you said you were going to do it.”

“Just do it Drake.”

I started the CD. Her directing was pretty good. It had some minor issues, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

The interview part of the audition went well and shortly later she grabbed her snow-covered bag and left to go clean the milkshake off of her mother’s car.

Mr. Stevens grabbed his chair and carried it back to the band room.

“So?” he asked.

I nodded.

It looks like we found our new junior drum major.

So, what do you think? Reviews are nice. The next prologue, by Silv, should be out shortly.

Muircheartach