Well, I'm home again. I'm home from a long, exhausting six hour day. It's not work, and it's not sports. It has to be classified in a category all its own. Band Camp.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure it'll fly by and you'll have a great time," Thank you band teacher and mother for being wrong. Day ONE just finished, and with two more weeks, I'm pretty almost positive I might die. You got me all wrong if you think I'm trying to be over dramatic. What I'm trying to do is make a plea for help. Listen, I'm a freshman going through Menchville High School's band camp with a crush on another band geek. Life could be better…

"Bailey, honey, don't worry. It'll be over before you know it. Maybe you'll make some new friends before school starts. Besides, sweetie, nothings as good as it can be on its first day."

"Mother, please don't go all fortune cookie. You know I would much rather be sleeping right now then going stupid to band camp."

"Bailey, I don't need your attitude. I'm going to drop you off, at the very least you'll see your friends from last year. Help me out a little here."

"Fine." And that was the last word said for the 10 minute drive.

If I go crazy will you still call me superman, if I'm alive and...

"Bailey!!! Come on kid, get going. Give me the ipod."

"Mom. No. Be fair." She cuts me off from my song and takes it away from me. Wonderful. I get shoved out of the car and after a final smile from my mother, she drives away. My heavy saxophone case resting in hand and my binder tucked clumsily under my arm. Here goes nothing. My first few confident steps were shattered by the short fall over the grassy curb. The official first mistake of band camp. I was tempted to sprint back after the car, but instead I prayed silently that no one saw that.

Of course. They did. Even worse, he did.

Being part of a slightly dysfunctional family, and being the middle child, I learn to keep my problems covered up pretty well and unnoticeable. My house doesn't need anymore of that. So, it's typical that nobody knows of him. First chair drum major, saxophone line, prodigy of the JV soccer team during the spring, and only god knows how he got that tan. Cameron Parker Foley, modest, funny, and quite nice looking. Unfortunately for me, he's a sophomore, and during band camp, apparently there's a huge difference between sophomore and freshman.

I barely had my sax in hand before I was shoved in a group of my friends. They were herding us like cattle. Saxes over there, brass over here, freshmen and juniors separate, blah blah blah. Just a bunch of rubbish.

Have you ever had a lecture on how to walk properly? Or how to breathe? Or how to use your mouth? Well picture all three of those, in yelling form, while you're working your butt off walking in place the best you can in hundred degree weather. That's how band camp starts. For two to three straight hours, you have the joy of learning how to blow into metal and walk at the same time. Did I mention this starts at eight in the morning?

Yeah. It's all fun and games until someone gets sun burnt, or dehydrated, or even worse, fall in band geek love. It's absolutely the worst best absolutely amazing thing that could happen. Wish me luck? Because when day one finished, I got one quick glance at him, and that was it. Then he left without even looking back. Worst of all, I realized this same thing happened tomorrow. And In realizing this, I made a promise. Tomorrow, I say hi.


"Good morning sunshine! Bailey, time to get up honey! You need to start getting ready!" I'm so tempted to throw something at her. I bet she won't be so happy with a stuffed pikachu flying at her face. Instead I roll over, give out a groan, growl type noise that would probably come from a dieing animal of some sort, and glance at the clock.

7:00 AMAnd with that I let out another dieing animal imitation and plop back on my pillow.

"Bailey! Get up! Don't make me come back in there!" She wouldn't. Too late, she does. A nice cup of ice water poured on my face. So much for waking up to a joyful and loving family.

"Really mom? Really?" She just looks at me with a goofy grin. I roll my eyes then slowly and dramatically climb out of bed.

Before any awesomeness happens first things first. I got to pee. Then I wash my hands, face, all that jazz. The sharp splash of cold water always gives me that freshness feeling. Before walking out, I take a little glance in the mirror. Blonde hair's a mess as always, acne could be better (stupid hormones), but eyes as brilliant as ever. I show no modesty about my eyes. They are quite dazzling, a bright green almost swirled with a sky blue, and they catch the light perfectly. Content, I run to the kitchen, shovel down some Poptarts and gulp down a glass of milk.

"CLOTHES! CLOTHES ARE IMPORTANT!" I shout running down the hall back to my room in my sports bra and underwear.

"So is WATER! And sunscreen! And money for lunch!"

"Just put it out on the table! I'll get it in a sec mom! I gotta get dressed!" Should I wear a tank top and short shorts? No. Too band sluttish. How about a t-shirt and long shorts? No. Too dorky. Got it! Short jean shorts and a simple t-shirt. Somewhere in the middle. No makeup for me. I never wear it. I don't have anything to hide from these people. Especially Cameron.

I have everything I need, sprint outside, do an awesome (olympic status) dive into the backseat of the car, and away we drive. Band Camp Day 2. Wish me luck.