Author's Notes: Here I introduce you to "Reflections". I decided not to write "Memories" but instead I changed the story around and made this. The characters are still the same, with new ones added into the mix. As the story continues, you'll catch characters making glimpses back into their past. Some of the scenes I had planned for "Memories" will be in here, as flashbacks (which will be in italics). Also, I have no idea what college or college marching band is actually like (yet). I don't start band camp until late August, so once I made it passed camp and the first couple weeks of college, I'll be back to edit (assuming I'll actually have time to come back and edit). Chapter One is in editing mode as of now, but I'll wait 'til a bit later in the month before I post it.

Reflections: Prologue

Andrea Warkshaw watched as the sun set over field. The sky illuminated in bright colors. Emotion welled up inside her causing a single tear to form. This was the last sunset that she would see at her old high school before college band began tomorrow afternoon.

She returned as an instructor, to help her old high school band director before she left. It was a simple way to tell him she appreciated everything he has done for her over the past season. She also wanted to see him, after the rough patch they had been through at the beginning.

A hand fell down on her shoulder. Andrea released a sad sigh. She would miss this place, and everyone in it. She turned around to see Mr. Jason Faraway smiling at her.

They did not say a word to each other. Andrea smiled back at him.

Instantly, emotion overwhelmed her and she embraced him in a hug. She lost one director at the beginning of her senior year because of a car accident. Now, she was loosing another, just because she was going away to college. Goodbyes have always hurt her.

“Don’t forget to visit, Annie,” he said, hugging her back.

She hugged him tighter. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I won’t.”

Mr. Faraway released his grip on her. In the distance, he noticed another one of his former students, Eric Jameson, Annie’s best friend. He felt her grip loosen as he stared at Eric. The graduate tipped his head in acknowledgement, and then waved.

He broke the hug to wave back before returning his attention to Annie.

“Eric’s waiting for you, kid.”

She turned around and noticed her friend.

Then, she heard a loud buzzing noise in her ear.

“Andrea Jane Warkshaw!” a loud voice interrupted her sleep, along with the buzz from her alarm clock. Annie tossed in her bed, tangled in her blanket, and hit the snooze button. The buzzing stopped.

The morning light illuminated the room, the sun shining in through the glass. The windows on the opposite side of the room hanging wide open, letting the morning songs fill the room with music.

The sleeping Annie moaned, flipping back onto her left side, “What?” she growled. Relaxing, she attempted to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, she had little time to react as a pillow smacked her in the face. It was a fluffy pillow, too.

Spitting out the fluff from the pillow, she turned on her back. Loaming over her was her roommate, a fluffy, pink pillow in her hands. The older woman glowered down at her with her big, bright blue eyes. “It’s a quarter ‘til seven, Annie,” she said as a piece of her blonde hair flew across her forehead from the breeze. “Breakfast is at seven.”

The brown-haired teenager sat up, resting on her elbows, letting her hair fall back against her pillow. “I don’t see the big deal, Gabby. It’s only breakfast.”

Gabby raised the pillow above her head, preparing for another hit. Annie braced herself for the blow, knowing what her roommate was capable of doing. She was, in fact, also her section leader.

“So says the freshman,” she said, the pillow still above her head, ready to attack. She waited a moment before lowering it down, and continued talking. “Look, Annie, college marching band isn’t easy. It shows no mercy. I don’t know what your high school band was like, but unless you want to kill yourself on your first morning here, I suggest you eat breakfast like the rest of us.”

Annie thought it. For the last four years, she could get away with skipping breakfast and then pig-out at lunch when everyone was at their best. In high school, however, they did not work to the point of exhaustion. Hope Academy did not offer a competitive marching band. The only action they saw every year was at the local band shows; a fun way to meet and hang out with other band people from different schools.

She read up on Harfield College’s marching band before she applied. It was a private, medium-sized institution with an outstanding music program. Band camp began a two weeks before move-in and freshman orientation week. She learned that, through talking with the band director, the marching band was respected well throughout the college world. Many of the college’s finest brass and percussion players participated in a local drum corps program. That, and the first week was usually endurance training since the band moved around a lot during their shows, meaning they had to be physically conditioned for whatever drills their director designed.

Which meant Annie could not skip out on breakfast, as much as she wanted to.

“Alright, fine,” she sat up, now cross-legged, staring up at her roommate, “you win. I’ll eat.”

Satisfied, Gabby smiled and walked over to her own bed, holding the pillow close to her.

“One question though: when does rehearsal start?”

Her roommate, dazed, stared over at her, and then shook her head. Freshmen, she thought. “Eight,” she replied.

Annie shook her head, her lips pursed together. Getting out of bed, she heard Gabby shuffle off her own.

“Why did you want to know when rehearsal started?”

The freshman did not face her. “Well,” she explained, “if breakfast is at seven, but rehearsal does not begin until eight, then I think I’ll eat before I get ready.” Bending down, Annie pulled a hat out of her clothes pile before turning around to face Gabby. Her roommate just stared at her, looking over her current outfit. Defensively, Annie responded, “It’s just a tee-shirt and flannel pants. Believe me; I’ve gone to school looking worse than this.”

Not wanting to discuss the topic anymore, Gabby nodded and bent down to retrieve her sandals. “I’m sure you have. Now let’s go, freshman, before we’re last in line.”

Well, Andrea very much reminds me of myself. Although I highly doubt I'd argue with my roommate, or, better yet, my section leader.

Questions, comments, concerns? Let me know!