"We're doomed. The mother ship has finally arrived. It is only a matter of time before they suck out our brains and turn us into mindless preppy drones."
I shivered, "So does, that, like mean, we're all, like, gonna be totally blond?"
"It's begun already!" Penny cried in mock terror. "None of us are safe! Even the Great One has fallen to their evil preppy powers!"
The rest of the bus laughed. Penny had just completed her story entitled, "Invasion of the cheerleaders." It really was quite horrifying.
It was the beginning of the Effington High School Band Camp. Currently, we were stuck in traffic. Therefore, my section of the bus was taking turns telling stories. All perfectly clean, of course, if facetious. There were chaperones on the bus.
The bus suddenly lurched foreword a few yards, pulling us up and parallel to another yellow school bus. On the side it proclaimed, "Plymouth Pilgrim Marching Band," our arch nemesis. They were the best band in our flight, winning first place at States every year for the past ten years. They were machines.
"Hey, its Plymouth! Think they're going to band camp too?" Crysta asked, braiding my hair. Every bus trip I go on with my hair down, and get off with it braided like a Swede.
Suddenly all the kids on the Plymouth bus turned to face us, staring at us unblinkingly.
"Freaky," Fin said, "Are they Robots?"
"No, they're aliens! The Plymouth Marching band is their first step to world domination." I replied.
"Now, Dana, behave," Crysta said pulling on my braid, "You'll frighten the Freshman."
"They must be prepared for the truth!" I cried valiantly.
"I still think they're robots," Fin said. "They're a government experiment gone wrong."
"Shall we bet?" I asked.
"How 'bout a Big Boy's milk shake?" she grinned.
"Careful, I already owe her six," Penny said. "Besides, I bet they're the result of Chernobyl."
"It's a bet," I told Fin. "You in it too, Penny?"
"Duh. Anything for a milkshake," she grinned.
"You'll owe me seven milkshakes, then. And you'd better pay up, or it'll be your DOOM," she cried, rather loudly. We were all immediately shushed by the Queen Bitch of the Band Boosters, an organization founded specifically for overbearing mothers to make even more children miserable.
After a few minutes Penny opened her window. "Hello!" she said to the other bus.
They sat and stared. I think they all blinked in unison.
"Hi, I'm Penny , with the band. What's up?"
Their eyes closed and opened as one.
"Maybe they don't speak English," Fin suggested.
Penny pursed her lips. She then rattled something off in Japanese. I think she said hi how are you.
Yet again, the unison blinks.
"Maybe it's an intimidation tactic." Crysta whispered.
"Your in French 5, say something," Penny ordered.
Complying, I promptly called them sons of dogs with dirty hair(they don't exactly teach great insults in High School French.)So I'm not the nicest person in the world.
Again, that increasingly annoying blink.
"Maybe that's how they communicate," I speculated. Its possible.
Putting on her most serious attention face, Penny began to blink rapidly.
They just stared.
"Oooh. A different reaction. I think we're getting somewhere," Crysta said. She then tugged on the braid she had just looped. "All done!" She pronounced proudly.
"Its beautiful!" Penny cried. "Your just so cute," she told me in her baby voice.
I rolled my eyes. Cute is not a word I'd ever use to describe myself.
Suddenly the bus started moving, and we left behind the bus of blinking aliens/drones/mutants.
Upon our arrival at the Camp Rigby, we were dropped off at our respective cabins.
The cabins were spacious with thick evergreen carpeting cushioning our every step. The beds were soft and fluffy with warm comforters covering them. The bathroom had plenty of showers with floral print curtains and plenty of mirror space as to ensure a quick and easy morning. The entire building was cooled to the perfect temperature. A blessed relief from the hot humidity of the outside.
Yeah, right. In my dreams, maybe. The dirty cement floor provided a narrow pathways between the crowded in bunks. I think the mattresses were packed with sand and there were no sheets. The showers had dirty white curtains which barely separated the user from the world and there was just enough sink and mirror space for four girls at a time. -I really do not wish to discuss the temperature.
It was hellish.
But it was heaven.
W
ithin these walls we would bond, share stories, laugh, probably cry, and have the biggest and longest slumber party known to man, well, woman.
Okay. Moment over.
We all quickly ditched our stuff on our respective bunks and rushed down to the Mess Hall where we would have our orientation meeting.
That rushed as in taking our own sweet time about getting down there. We were, of course, among the last group of stragglers to arrive. We claimed the table at the back of the room.
Suddenly, a strange man stood up on the stage right behind my table.
"Hello, I am Mr. Trek, your new Band Director. I used to be an assistant Director at Plymouth High until Ms. Luna suddenly resigned last week, and I was hired to replace her. I know this is a big shock for you all, but…."he went on to discuss his goals for the year and how he'd hoped we'd all get along ect. Everything he said sounded perfectly reasonable, if cheesy.
When he was done, we all just sat there and blinked. Not in unison of course.
He then muttered something under his breath. Something along the lines of "We'll have to work on that."
I gulped silently and looked askance at my friends to see if they'd hear d it too. Their wide eyes confirmed that they had. The Effington Marching Band doing anything in unison could only result from some kind of horrible fantasy not even Stephen King's twisted mind could imagine. The next four days of Band Camp suddenly stretched out before me into infinity and beyond.
"I'd like to introduce you to my assisting staff. First, Ms. Diablo will be helping out with the brass section." A squat little woman with short flaming red hair stepped forward. She had a broad grin on, but for some reason I was oddly relieved that I had been smart enough to be a flute player. I Glanced at Fin and Penny who both looked a tad bit green.
"Next, I'd like to present Mr. Blake, who will be our drum instructor for the season." A fat man with a fanatically crazed look in his eyes and drumsticks in his pocket came onto the stage.
"Doesn't he mean cult leader," Crysta whispered under her breath.
"Finally, a High Priest of the Drums," I responded. Glancing at the drummers' table I noticed that their eyes reflected their new leaders fanatical gleam. Not that that was unusual. I'm surprised the whole lot didn't begin chanting and bowing to their drums sitting in back of the stage.
"We are also very privileged to have the esteemed Dr. Annul to be working with our clarinet section." A tall scrawny man with glasses sitting on his nose shuffled into the line the staff was forming. Was it just me, or were they starting to resemble a firing squad?
"If he's with the clarinets, he's got to have a doctorate in dysfunctional families," Fin muttered.
We all nodded in agreement. The clarinets always seemed to have some kind of drama going on in the section. They were kind of like a living, breathing soap opera.
"I myself will be the flute instructor this year…."
"Which is a nice way of saying we don't have an instructor…again," Crysta muttered.
"Look at it this way, my friend, we're so good we don't need an instructor." I replied. Looking around I then asked, "Do the saxes have an instructor?"
"Do we even have any altos?" Fin inquired.
"Maybe they were abducted by aliens," Penny replied. "I don't see anyone of them here."
We never did find out what happened to the sax section.
"And finally," Mr. Trek declared, "We will have a guest with us, from your school newspaper. She will be doing an article on the Band for the school newspaper. I would like you all to welcome Ann C. Awl."
"Did you know she was coming?" I asked Penny, waving to Ann as she came onto the stage.
"The fool failed to inform me of this," she glared. Ann was almost a member of the band, a groupie if you will. Our number one fan. Emphasis on the one.
"And now we break for lunch. At 1:30 I want you all back here, ready to commence our first music rehearsal," Mr. Trek announced. "Dismissed."
I shivered, "So does, that, like mean, we're all, like, gonna be totally blond?"
"It's begun already!" Penny cried in mock terror. "None of us are safe! Even the Great One has fallen to their evil preppy powers!"
The rest of the bus laughed. Penny had just completed her story entitled, "Invasion of the cheerleaders." It really was quite horrifying.
It was the beginning of the Effington High School Band Camp. Currently, we were stuck in traffic. Therefore, my section of the bus was taking turns telling stories. All perfectly clean, of course, if facetious. There were chaperones on the bus.
The bus suddenly lurched foreword a few yards, pulling us up and parallel to another yellow school bus. On the side it proclaimed, "Plymouth Pilgrim Marching Band," our arch nemesis. They were the best band in our flight, winning first place at States every year for the past ten years. They were machines.
"Hey, its Plymouth! Think they're going to band camp too?" Crysta asked, braiding my hair. Every bus trip I go on with my hair down, and get off with it braided like a Swede.
Suddenly all the kids on the Plymouth bus turned to face us, staring at us unblinkingly.
"Freaky," Fin said, "Are they Robots?"
"No, they're aliens! The Plymouth Marching band is their first step to world domination." I replied.
"Now, Dana, behave," Crysta said pulling on my braid, "You'll frighten the Freshman."
"They must be prepared for the truth!" I cried valiantly.
"I still think they're robots," Fin said. "They're a government experiment gone wrong."
"Shall we bet?" I asked.
"How 'bout a Big Boy's milk shake?" she grinned.
"Careful, I already owe her six," Penny said. "Besides, I bet they're the result of Chernobyl."
"It's a bet," I told Fin. "You in it too, Penny?"
"Duh. Anything for a milkshake," she grinned.
"You'll owe me seven milkshakes, then. And you'd better pay up, or it'll be your DOOM," she cried, rather loudly. We were all immediately shushed by the Queen Bitch of the Band Boosters, an organization founded specifically for overbearing mothers to make even more children miserable.
After a few minutes Penny opened her window. "Hello!" she said to the other bus.
They sat and stared. I think they all blinked in unison.
"Hi, I'm Penny , with the band. What's up?"
Their eyes closed and opened as one.
"Maybe they don't speak English," Fin suggested.
Penny pursed her lips. She then rattled something off in Japanese. I think she said hi how are you.
Yet again, the unison blinks.
"Maybe it's an intimidation tactic." Crysta whispered.
"Your in French 5, say something," Penny ordered.
Complying, I promptly called them sons of dogs with dirty hair(they don't exactly teach great insults in High School French.)So I'm not the nicest person in the world.
Again, that increasingly annoying blink.
"Maybe that's how they communicate," I speculated. Its possible.
Putting on her most serious attention face, Penny began to blink rapidly.
They just stared.
"Oooh. A different reaction. I think we're getting somewhere," Crysta said. She then tugged on the braid she had just looped. "All done!" She pronounced proudly.
"Its beautiful!" Penny cried. "Your just so cute," she told me in her baby voice.
I rolled my eyes. Cute is not a word I'd ever use to describe myself.
Suddenly the bus started moving, and we left behind the bus of blinking aliens/drones/mutants.
Upon our arrival at the Camp Rigby, we were dropped off at our respective cabins.
The cabins were spacious with thick evergreen carpeting cushioning our every step. The beds were soft and fluffy with warm comforters covering them. The bathroom had plenty of showers with floral print curtains and plenty of mirror space as to ensure a quick and easy morning. The entire building was cooled to the perfect temperature. A blessed relief from the hot humidity of the outside.
Yeah, right. In my dreams, maybe. The dirty cement floor provided a narrow pathways between the crowded in bunks. I think the mattresses were packed with sand and there were no sheets. The showers had dirty white curtains which barely separated the user from the world and there was just enough sink and mirror space for four girls at a time. -I really do not wish to discuss the temperature.
It was hellish.
But it was heaven.
W
ithin these walls we would bond, share stories, laugh, probably cry, and have the biggest and longest slumber party known to man, well, woman.
Okay. Moment over.
We all quickly ditched our stuff on our respective bunks and rushed down to the Mess Hall where we would have our orientation meeting.
That rushed as in taking our own sweet time about getting down there. We were, of course, among the last group of stragglers to arrive. We claimed the table at the back of the room.
Suddenly, a strange man stood up on the stage right behind my table.
"Hello, I am Mr. Trek, your new Band Director. I used to be an assistant Director at Plymouth High until Ms. Luna suddenly resigned last week, and I was hired to replace her. I know this is a big shock for you all, but…."he went on to discuss his goals for the year and how he'd hoped we'd all get along ect. Everything he said sounded perfectly reasonable, if cheesy.
When he was done, we all just sat there and blinked. Not in unison of course.
He then muttered something under his breath. Something along the lines of "We'll have to work on that."
I gulped silently and looked askance at my friends to see if they'd hear d it too. Their wide eyes confirmed that they had. The Effington Marching Band doing anything in unison could only result from some kind of horrible fantasy not even Stephen King's twisted mind could imagine. The next four days of Band Camp suddenly stretched out before me into infinity and beyond.
"I'd like to introduce you to my assisting staff. First, Ms. Diablo will be helping out with the brass section." A squat little woman with short flaming red hair stepped forward. She had a broad grin on, but for some reason I was oddly relieved that I had been smart enough to be a flute player. I Glanced at Fin and Penny who both looked a tad bit green.
"Next, I'd like to present Mr. Blake, who will be our drum instructor for the season." A fat man with a fanatically crazed look in his eyes and drumsticks in his pocket came onto the stage.
"Doesn't he mean cult leader," Crysta whispered under her breath.
"Finally, a High Priest of the Drums," I responded. Glancing at the drummers' table I noticed that their eyes reflected their new leaders fanatical gleam. Not that that was unusual. I'm surprised the whole lot didn't begin chanting and bowing to their drums sitting in back of the stage.
"We are also very privileged to have the esteemed Dr. Annul to be working with our clarinet section." A tall scrawny man with glasses sitting on his nose shuffled into the line the staff was forming. Was it just me, or were they starting to resemble a firing squad?
"If he's with the clarinets, he's got to have a doctorate in dysfunctional families," Fin muttered.
We all nodded in agreement. The clarinets always seemed to have some kind of drama going on in the section. They were kind of like a living, breathing soap opera.
"I myself will be the flute instructor this year…."
"Which is a nice way of saying we don't have an instructor…again," Crysta muttered.
"Look at it this way, my friend, we're so good we don't need an instructor." I replied. Looking around I then asked, "Do the saxes have an instructor?"
"Do we even have any altos?" Fin inquired.
"Maybe they were abducted by aliens," Penny replied. "I don't see anyone of them here."
We never did find out what happened to the sax section.
"And finally," Mr. Trek declared, "We will have a guest with us, from your school newspaper. She will be doing an article on the Band for the school newspaper. I would like you all to welcome Ann C. Awl."
"Did you know she was coming?" I asked Penny, waving to Ann as she came onto the stage.
"The fool failed to inform me of this," she glared. Ann was almost a member of the band, a groupie if you will. Our number one fan. Emphasis on the one.
"And now we break for lunch. At 1:30 I want you all back here, ready to commence our first music rehearsal," Mr. Trek announced. "Dismissed."