Thanks for everyone who reviewed and/or applied! Muchas gracias to y'all for helping me with this story!
New Characters:
Saiorse Callan aka Irish
Drumline- Snare
Thanks for the hint
Stacy aka West Side
French HornNo more at the moment, but trust me, if you try to send in your character for the story, you'll get in. Also, if you do not like the way that your character is portrayed, please let me know and I will change it.
Chapter Three
Yes.
I am related to the high and mighty, snobby, haughty, arrogant, conceited, and vain Tracy Lynn Connors.
Not that I want to be. That girl is just a pain.
Not everyone loathes her as much as I do. But there are some people that like her. I really don't see how… But hey, "to each his own."
Brandie shook her head, "Don't worry about her, Vin," she took a swig of water, "she's just jealous. Trust me, you will not mess up." Brandie picked up my flag, and handed it to me.
Now, if you're in color guard, you'll know that six foot flags are a pain. Especially if you aren't over five feet yet. If you haven't ever used a six foot flag, you are incredibly lucky and God bless you. Certain moves and tosses are okay, but if it comes time to do a "windmill" or a "back hand switch", its hell. I have to stand on my tiptoes for the move to work and for me not to hit the ground. Don't laugh- it's true. Although everyone else on color guard thinks its hilariously funny to watch my feet, its really not.
I took my flag reluctantly and began to practice before the drumline came over. I saw Jaybee out of the corner of my eyes. I knew that she wanted me to do well, but I was still annoyed with her.
There are about twenty-five or so people on color guard. There are about five freshmen, seven sophomores, seven juniors, and six seniors. During band camp, on the last day, the whole band is divided into three groups—the drumline, the color guard, and the rest of the band. Then, the groups show off what they've learned during the two horrendous weeks at camp.
Jaybee had taught us two routines: the first one was a short forty-second piece for showin' off. The second was the beginnin' part to our first football half-time show.
I wondered which one I would have to present. One was too short and the other was unfinished. As soon as I began practicin' the shorter one, I heard a patter of running feet behind me. I disregarded the sound, the way that the band teachers taught on the second day of camp.
"Vinnie! Hey! C'mere a minute!" I turned at the voice; it was Angela. Angela and I had known each other for a long time but because she was a senior and I was a junior, we had never had any classes together or found time to have a conversation that consisted of more than a "hi"; "how are you doing?"; a "fine, you?" and "let's talk later."
She was a very friendly person; cracking jokes, laughing about anything and everything with her friends, and standing up for people who she didn't know. I thought that she was a very pretty individual- both inside and out. She was, by choice, a strawberry-blonde, but by birth, she had been a fair-haired child. Her nickname was Copperfoil. Don't ask… It was one of those moments with aluminum foil and it being 2 or 3 AM on a bus from a football game going back home.
"What's wrong?" I asked her, alarmed at her livid, red face. "Tracy say anything to you? Because if she did I would advise you to-"
Angela doesn't get mad. She might get a tad annoyed but not furious. Now, she was furious.
Her blue eyes were hard. "That Tracy Lynn," she began shoving a hand through her hair, forgetting that it was up in a ponytail in her anger.
I shook my head, rolling my eyes, "Don't worry about her. Whatever she said to you-"
"No!" she stressed, "Tracy Lynn… she's insanely jealous of you, Vinnie. I heard her talking to Sloan saying that she was going to make you mess up while you were performing for the group." She shook her head, "I don't know how what is wrong with that girl! She's so..." Copperfoil paused, searching for the right word to call Tracy.
"Seriously," I said, patting her on the shoulder, "if it's anyone that should be upset, it's me. And don't worry, I will not mess up, okay? Don't worry."
She gave me a comforting smile. "Make sure you don't," she pleaded, "someone needs to show that girl that she isn't the best. Not in the least." She smiled and wished me good luck. I shook my head, Tracy Lynn wasn't jealous. It was just her way; she enjoyed being the way she was.
I began practicing, going faster and faster, with my flag whirling and spinning with me. The tosses I made, I caught perfect: the verticals, behind my back, the 45. I lost track of time and the people around me. I swayed with my spins and arched my arm to follow my flag. I could feel nervous bubbles floating out of my system. I can do this, I though, I won't mess up. Even with an audience, I can still be perfect. I began the field routine. The first couple of minutes, Jaybee had already taught us. I counted off, doing the right TC drill following with a windmill and a forty-five degree toss. The George was easily followed by a speed-spin toss. I ended with a peggy-sue and that was followed by a flat toss. I caught the toss with my left hand, brought it down to my side, and lifted my right hand in a graceful presentation. I brought my hand from my side out in front of me, and then up over my head, bending back slightly while keeping my feet in a 5th position in a ballet pose. I took a breath. I was done.
The claps and shouts of laughter shook me out of my reverie. I looked to the side and I noticed the whole of the corps was watching me with admiration in their eyes. Well, most of them- I noticed happily that Tracy was quietly sulking behind the large group.
Jaybee began walking towards me. "Great practice," she smiled broadly, "Vinnie, that was really good." She patted my shoulder. "You could tell that you really enjoyed flagging."
I nodded with my eyebrows raised; I was still upset about having to present in front of the drumline. Seriously. The drumline. Now, the girls there aren't too bad, they are tons of fun, but the guys? They all act as if they've been deprived of food when it comes to girls. They act vile: hooting, whistling, stamping their feet, and slapping the… bootie?
Anyways, the three drum majors are the worst: Francis Kelly, known as Jack, short for Jack-Ass; Spencer Conlon, knows as Spot, and if I'm especially annoyed at him I call him the 'Human Dot'. He knows why. Then there's Anthony Higgins, or Racetrack. Racetrack is his nickname because one game night when our band was traveling to an away game, Race really had to use the restroom. Well, the bus ended up in traffic and the only thing available was a two mile hike up to the nearest Racetrac gas station. Needless to say, Racetrack never made it to Racetrac. He barely made it out the window. But hey, that boy has the best aim. And you KNOW what I'm talking about.
"Thanks," I said, reluctantly. I still was a bit miffed with her. Yes, I know it was my fault but I really can't control my mouth at all. Just like when Anthony and me bet that tomatoes were vegetables or fruit. I won because I said that they were vegetables but he's dirty- he wouldn't give me my money because he said that they were really both and I'd only said one. Who cares? He lost- he said they were fruit. They are really vegetable-fruits.
Jaybee rolled her eyes and sighed. "Look Vin, you don't have to do you're routine in front of the dumline, okay? I only said that to make you respect me and I know that you have a problem with performing in public by yourself." She grabbed my arm, "But next time you pull something like that, trust me, you won't get out of it."
She let me go and gave me a smile, as if she wanted to take the sting away. I reluctantly smiled back and once her back was turned, I stalked off to the pavilion. I walked to Brandie, who of course was slurping from her ever-present milkshake, and sat down next to her.
"Hey," she greeted happily, green eyes twinkling, "you did really good!" She patted my shoulder and slurped her mango banana milkshake. I smiled and said quietly, "I know you were hoping that, uh, what's-his-name came over here…" I paused and looked at her face. She had forgotten about the milkshake and opened her emerald green eyes wide.
I laughed. Even though she was a freshman and this was her first year on the corps, she was a good friend. I could talk to her about anything and she would take me seriously. However, it was also fun to mess with her because she had a "not-so-secret" crush on drummer extraordinaire Anthony Higgins. But, hey! Who didn't? I had had a crush on him in the seventh grade when he transferred from another school out of state. He showed up for the first day of school with a marching band jacket. You know how we knew it was a marching band jacket? Because it had the logo on the sleeve and school colors and everything. We knew, from then on, that he was fearless.
He tried out for drumline in the eighth grade and when the seniors there teased him for being short for his age, he shot back with an incredible drumline audition that beat out most seniors for a spot at the quads, which is usually reserved for juniors and seniors. Quads are drums that have four different sized worn in the harness. We knew, once again, that he feared nothing.
Now that he's in junior class with me, I see more and more of him everyday. Especially after school during band practices. He's a riot, teamed up with Jack and the Human Dot. Usually, their jokes are sexist, racist, dirty, and disgusting. For example, have you heard the Three Women Go Camping one? It goes like this:
"One day three women went camping - a blonde, a brunette and a redhead. The blonde suddenly had to go to the bathroom. She went into the woods with her toilet paper and did her business.
While she was gone, the brunette and the redhead decided to play a joke on her. They skinned a rabbit and snuck up on the blonde, put the guts behind her and ran back to the campsite. Three minutes later they heard a scream.
Then they waited another half an hour and the blonde came back, sweating. She said, "I had to poop so hard I pooped my guts out. But thanks to God and these two fingers, I stuffed them back in."
The first time I heard that, it took me a while to get it. Everyone else was shouting and groaning. That was a dirty, dirty joke. The whole drumline was laughing, but they are all guys so of course they would laugh! Well, plus or minus a few girls on drumline.
Anyways, Brandie popped me on my shoulder. "Ow!" I protested, rubbing the spot, "What was that for?"
She shrugged and smirked. I hit her back and she retaliated by grabbing my water bottle and throwing it at my head. I gasped and stood up. Catching my water bottle in midair, I used it as an attack weapon, striking her wherever I could. Brandie shrieked and put her milkshake on the table for safekeeping. Grabbing my arms, she tried to slow down on the assault. We were both laughing and screaming, not paying attention to anything around us. All of a sudden—
"Oh, shit!" I screamed as soon as I felt the ice-cold water cascade down from my head to my back, wetting everything in the way. Brandie let go of my water bottle and me because she was doused with water too. I dropped the water bottle and wiped at my face, trying to get rid of the coldness. I heard laughing and I looked at Brandie.
She was hopping from foot to foot as she not only got water dumped on her, but also a buttload of ice. "Damn damn damn!" she cursed, tugging at the back of her shirt.
In spite of my coldness, I couldn't help but laugh. Hearing callous remarks behind me, I turned around. Gosh darn it, and who is it? Three guesses whom.
Drumline? Ding ding ding. You've won the mystery prize!
I am so sorry that this is short but dont worry! Drumlines coming in! That means more characters, more of perverted!Race and many more jokes! Lol, if you want me to update faster, you know what to do!