A/N: This is supposed to take place on Tuesday, August 28, 2012. (Which is my real first day of school, and really exactly two-hundred days until I turn sixteen.) It kind of builds upon a conversation I had a couple months ago with "the boy" in this story. So...

The girl was a sophomore, returning for another year of high school. She shouldered her backpack, determined to make this her best year, yet. Leaning back into the car, she gave her mom a kiss and then picked up her clarinet. The girl followed her older stepbrother through the doors of Hanford High School.

Her first time with a zero hour class, the girl's energy was fueled only by a mixture of nerves, and the coffee she was only just learning to like. She quickly stowed her backpack on the floor near her music locker, bringing only her band binder and clarinet into the too-familiar classroom. She had spent much of August in this room, preparing for marching band practices that had definitely pushed her endurance.

The girl took her seat, surveying her classmates. Yes, she knew this group from marching band. They would definitely sound awesome together in jazz band. She greeted the people whose names she knew, and sat back to listen to the director's first-day lecture. She'd listen to him after school, as well, so she wasn't too worried about missing anything. The girl let her mind wander, only coming back to reality when the door unexpectedly opened.

Glancing at the door, the girl was slightly surprised to see him – she had assumed he'd be in one of the higher jazz bands, like her stepbrother. He confidently headed up to the teacher, producing the required truancy slip from his pocket. There were plenty of empty seats toward the front, but instead, he decided to sit on the lone chair in the corner of the room, the chair that the girl had previously been resting her elbow on.

"Hi," he said, an interesting greeting for 7:05 in the morning. He was ten minutes late.

"Hi, yourself." The girl replied, slightly more hyper now that he was here. "You're late."

"Yeah, my car wouldn't start, and I still had to take my sister to school." He explained, shrugging. "Newbs isn't going to say anything here that he won't say during marching band. We do have that jazz section in the show."

"Yup, fun elongated rests and then a couple of sixteenth note runs." The girl sighed. "You trumpet peoples are lucky when it comes to the sixteenth notes."

"Ha," he laughed. "You should join our section, then."

"I can't," she sighed, as if she were explaining something incredibly obvious to a four-year-old child. He was only twelve years older than that... "I don't play the trumpet, my sister does. Or will, when she's in sixth grade. She's got a whole year to prepare for middle school band. That's a year more than I got."

"Wow, how many of you are in band?" He asked.

"Let's see... Both of my stepbrothers, my little brother, and, eventually my sister." The girl explained. "So, basically everyone but my half-sister."

"Wow, talented family." He commented.

"Yeah, but I'd rather write than go into music. I'm just doing it in high school, maybe college, if I go, but I'm not really going to make a career out of it. Plus, I like the piano a whole lot more than the clarinet."

"Yeah, I love playing the organ and the piano. They're really fun." He smiled, looking up. The teacher had disappeared, leaving the students to talk amongst themselves. The girl shrugged.

"Hey, I want to show you something." He announced, standing up. He offered the girl his hand to help her up. Leading her over to the slightly-out-of-tune piano in the corner, he sat down and began to play a beautiful melody that the girl recognized as their marching band show. He added the chords where the trumpets would come in, and eventually got to B, where the clarinets entered. She began to hum her own part, crescendo-ing until they got to F, the climax of the clarinet feature, where she began to sing the words, matching the altered version that was the show.

Are-you going-to Scarborough Faire?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thy-me.

'Member me to one who lives the-re.

She-e on-ce was...a true lo-ve o-f mine.

They continued until K, the end of the first movement. She automatically snapped her hands down, imitating the horn snap at the end of the four extra measures of dotted half note. Note to self: take breath before J! The girl thought.

He was just beginning the second movement, the ballad, when the door burst open. "PLUNGER WARS!" A male voice screamed.

"Great, I was just about to play Send in the Clowns." He grumbled, as two of the trombone players burst in, throwing plungers at each other. The girl giggled gleefully, diving between the piano and the bench. The boy joined her shortly.

"Wonder how long we'll have to hide here." The boy smiled. The girl wiggled, getting comfortable.

"Hopefully, a while."

Where did that come from? Her face flushed red, and she hid it between her knees. The burgundy of her shorts helped to hide the blush.

"Yeah, hopefully." The boy echoed. The girl risked a peek, and saw that he was grinning, his braces and silver eyes making him look cuter than ever. Who could blame the girl for falling in love with him in December of freshman year?

The girl smiled, slowly lifting her head. Luckily, the trombone players were too engrossed in beating each other with plungers to notice the two teenagers hidden beneath the piano. The boy was still looking at her, smiling, but eyes revealing a slight pain.

"What?" The girl asked, curious.

"I wish you were sixteen." The boy whispered, frowning. He began to lean forward, stopping with his face just in front of hers. "I really wish you were sixteen."

The girl was frozen, completely unable to move. She wanted to lean forward, to close the distance, to experience her first kiss, but her fifteen-ness was what stopped her. Two-hundred days! Only two-hundred more days! Her mind screamed at her. She turned her head, the boy's lips lightly brushing her cheek, leaving a burning trail of fire in their path.

"Two-hundred days." The girl sighed. "That's how long we've got to wait. I will be sixteen in exactly two hundred days."

"I know." The boy sighed, letting his fingers trace the path of his lips. Abruptly, he pulled back, dropping his hand. He crawled out from under the piano, speed walking out the door.

Four seconds later, the bell rang.