So now that the musical and AP testing is over, Silv and I can finally write! Here's Drake's chapter, with a bit of Ari in it.

Chapter Five: Traditional Matters

“Drake?”

I looked up from the pile of paperwork that Mr. Stevens had given me to sort. “Yes Lauren?”

“The section leaders are wondering if we are still going to have the extra rehearsal for the rookies this year.”

Extra rehearsal? Oh right, one of the many traditions set up by my father during his one year as Arden Lake drum major over twenty years ago. The extra rehearsal before camp week where the drum major makes sure that the rookies know how to march properly. “Sure. Tell them that it will be Thursday after rehearsal.”

“Okay. Um… I’ll go do that then.” She walked of towards the flute section to talk to Eliz.

During the one year that my father was drum major he set up many traditions that have occurred every year since then. Everything from the drum major’s salute to the extra rehearsal for the rookies to the training in of section leaders and drum majors. My father has had an influence on the Arden Lake Marching Band for twenty-five years for one simple reason: he is obsessed with beating the Marshville Marching Tigers.

It all goes back to his days in high school. Arden Lake was a new school that had been built to eliminate crowding at Marshville. My father attended Marshville for two years before Arden Lake had been built. He had marched for two years with Marshville and during that time he developed several rivalries. One of them being with a flautist named Elisabeth Collins.

Anyways, due to said rivalries my father felt that once he transferred to Arden Lake it was his job to develop a marching band that would beat Marshville. He was the main force behind getting the Arden Lake Marching Band started and pretty much set in place all of the traditions that exist today.

And if there is one thing that I hate about the Arden Lake Marching Band, it’s the traditions.

Since I’ve broken too many traditions already and brought on the wrath of my father several times, I might as well let this one slip for now. Maybe Lauren will get rid of it. So to let her see how stupid the traditions we have actually are, I let her inform the band rather than doing it myself. I, unfortunately, get to actually run the rehearsal.

Wonderful.

And yet another rehearsal rolled by. It went… quite well, I suppose. It went about as well as I had expected. Mr. Stevens still hadn’t announced the french horn soloist yet, thankfully. I can guess that as soon as it is posted, I’ll be hearing from a few of the vets in the mellophone section, most likely Drew. Oh well.

“Rookies, meet outside on the practice field in fifteen minutes,” I announced at the end of rehearsal. Grabbing the gock block and my water bottle, I slid my sunglasses on and exited the band room. I suppose that maybe this was the only tradition set up by my father that actually helped the band as a whole. Having the extra rehearsal for the rookies helped them to learn technique and how to read drill charts, which saves time in later rehearsals. But I’d still rather not have to do it to begin with.

The rookies began filing in. “Form a basics block,” I ordered them. They shuffled into position and guess who was front and center.

Cecilia Maybelle.

Curse her. Honestly, she lives to torment me. Oh look, she’s raising her hand.

“Yes?” I asked.

“Why am I here? I’m not a marching rookie,” she stated.

“If you are new to this band you are considered a rookie,” I recited, sounding more like my father by the moment. “And as this is your first year with the Arden Lake Marching Band, you are a rookie.”

She sighed. “If I prove to you I can march, can I go?”

“No. I don’t care if you’re good, you still have to stay. Deal with it.” More of my father.

“Then can I help, rather than sit here and go over what I already know?”

“No.”

“Why not?” God, she’s purposefully trying to antagonize me.

“You are a rookie. You don’t know anything about this band or how it works.”

“But I never said that I wouldn’t stay. Do you march with a straight leg and rolled heel?”

“Yes.” Why does she have to be so annoying?

“So do I. Best in my old band. Helped teach our rookies,” she said proudly before muttering. “Since our drum majors were hopeless.”

“So? You are a rookie, not a vet. I don’t care how high up you were in your old band. At Arden Lake you are a rookie and I’m the head drum major. Shut up and get in the block.”

“I’m already in the block, but alright.”

I rolled my eyes. I am definitely glad that my current expression was hidden behind my sunglasses. Honestly, she pushes my buttons. The other rookies seemed to be straying. “BAND TEN HUT!”

They snapped to attention. Well, most of them did. Some of them just seemed freaked out. “Eights and eights, going forward. March forward eight, mark time eight. Continue until I call out another command.”

I began hitting the gock block and the block moved forward. Crap, she was a good marcher. I yelled out comments to the other rookies and hopefully she didn’t notice that I didn’t have any comments about her marching.

“Hey drum major Drake. Wanna have a march off?”

I had just dismissed the rookies. And she wants to challenge me.

“No,” I said, grabbing my things and headed back to the band room.

“Why not? Afraid of losing?”

“No.” Does it take a hammer to get anything to sink into her head?

“Then why not?”

“Because there is no point to it. I don’t need to prove myself to you.”

She shrugged. “But would you like me to shut up at some point in time?”

“Yes, it would be nice. But I really don’t care if you make yourself sound like a blubbering idiot.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Two things. One, did you really just use the word blubbering? Two, if you want me to then beat me. Get it?”

I stopped and turned to face the color explosion. “Yes, I get it. But I don’t have to prove myself. I became drum major for a reason. If you want to test my patience, go right ahead. But I will not agree to do a march off with you.”

“Testing your patience, hell, anyone’s patience is fun.” She shrugged. “It’s one of the things I do. But you seem crabby today. Maybe next week then?” I turned back to go to the band room.

“I don’t want death by drum major, after all,” she muttered.

I started back on my original course. I honestly cannot put up with her. If I marched against her I would kick her ass, but I don’t need to prove to her that I can march. I am drum major and my authority does not need to be challenged by some cocky idiot who doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

I opened the door into the band room and saw Mr. Stevens sitting at the computer. “How’d it go?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Fine as in it went alright, or fine as in it really sucked and I don’t want to talk about it?”

I glared at him through my sunglasses.

“I’m guessing the latter.” He stood up. “Are Markus and Renée coming to help next week?”

“Probably. Renée’s coming, but I don’t exactly talk to Markus very often.”

“Get here at eight on Monday morning and if they want to come have them come then. We’ll be having a meeting before we start rehearsal. I already told Lauren that she should arrive then.”

The rookies began to trickle in to put away their instruments and grab their things. I grabbed my backpack and left.

“Reconsidered it yet?” she asked as I passed the flutes.

I didn’t answer and continued walking. My mother once told me that there are some battles that you just have to refuse to fight and I have a feeling that this is one of them.

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