Hey all! Oh yes! I AM back, with a new story. This one, I though of with another
one that I will post up later. This one, was an inspired work, from all my TAG
friends ranting about going to band camp this summer . Now, I do not play an
instrument nor am I in band... so cut me some slack . But again, this is a fic, so I
have a right to mess with stuff! Anywho, here we go!
Disclaimer: I do not own CCS. Okay? I don't, unfortunately, I wish I did tho, cause I
luff Syaoran. Anywho, again, I don't own CCS or any songs, quotes lyrics, etcetera,
etcetera. Okay, carry on.
One Time, At Band Camp...
Kirra H.
Band camp, a two week getaway of fun and musical appreciation. At least, that's how our
Band Director, Chiharu saw it. In all actuality, it was indeed a two week getaway... from
parents and annoying neighbors, and It was fun, in a sense, but we were all here for one
reason; The competition. See, every summer, High School Bands from all over the country
gather here, at Band Camp, for two weeks chock full of practicing and coming up with their
best routine possible. The last few days of camp, the camps directors hold the competition.
The prize is 10,000 dollars that will go towards the schools music program. Students also
compete individually in a solo piece or have to option to do a duet, with the prize being a
free ride scholarship to the musical institution of your choice. Sounds cool, right? And easy,
all the same. That's what we all were thinking on the eight and a half hour bus ride here, but
when we pulled past those big wooden posts, boasting it's large and welcoming sign, and we
saw twenty some busses awaiting orders to high tail it out of there, we swallowed down any
chance that this would be easy and tried hard to silence the butterflies swarming around
angrily in the pits of our stomachs. I stepped off the bus and sighed loudly, shuffling over to
the bus behind us, which carried all of our stuff; duffel bags crammed full of personal
necessities in the cargo hold...thing... and on the seats themselves, our instruments thrown
sloppily wherever there was room. I found my two duffels easily, seeing as they were the
only ones that were electric blue with neon green lettering, but the inside of the bus was sheer
madness. Everyone's things were in black cases, the only differences being the nametags on
the back of them. Among that mess, there were ten flutes, one of them being mine, and six
violins, again, one of them being mine. The violin was easy to find, it turns out mine was the
only one being held together with duct tape, and my flute, after everyone had grabbed theirs,
was crammed between a tube case and Casey's amp for her electric guitar. Yes, we do
have a guitarist in our schools band, and she kicks ass.
Once again outside, I took a few minutes to scope out the competition. The two most
obvious schools, I could tell would most likely fall out early on. They were private schools,
uniformed and sweaty in the 95 degree weather. The one stood in single file lines, waiting
impatiently to retrieve their equipment, a strict looking teacher at their side, tapping her
conductors baton angrily on her arm, threatening anyone who dare step out of her line.
Normally, I would be worried about them, but it was obvious that they would bomb. Their
director was far to strict. It made the players not only afraid that they would screw up, but it
made them tense and agitated. They would most likely screw up because with someone that
demanding, the pressure would crack them and they would tank. I felt bad, but it also
meant that we had a higher chance of winning, so I quickly tucked away that little strand of
emotion. The other school was a complete mess. The conductor looked like somebody
straight out of the sixties, stones, bloodshot eyes and all. The Students were pushing and
shoving their way around each other and often breaking out into fights. Unorganized and
sloppy, they would lose points for not only how well the band was composed, but for the
fact that they looked like crap too; the uniforms were all loose and looked a size too big for
all of them, and their constant quarreling would most likely ensue terrible complications when
the time came to compete. I can just see one of them getting angry at the other for messing
up a note and whapping them on the head with their instrument. Hilarious as it would be, it
would immediately cost them big points and even the slightest chance to win. Even now, ten
minutes after arrival, they had probably lost points, seeing as the camp directors, who served
as judges, watched our every move.
You see, the performances at the end are only most of the points. They rack up the biggest
amount of points, yes, but we also get points according to how we conduct ourselves during
our stay. We get points on everything from our entrance into the campgrounds, to our
practices, to our personal relations with other member of the band. Odd, yes, but hey, that's
how it works. I was extremely thankful for the fact that, not only did we have one of the
coolest instructors ever, but we all got along quite well and knew when to hold our tongues,
which would come in handy. There was one school, however, that I was worried about. The
bus read East River Academy. And they were, more or less, like us. A tad bit unorganized,
but nonetheless efficient in the time spent grabbing our things and I hadn't heard a complaint
yet, save for the director, who was bickering about the heat. I saw that they had a good deal
less people than we did, but that didn't mean that they would suck. In fact, they were
probably really good. The less people there are, the easier it is to direct them and make them
better. I saw the license plate read that they were from Maine and I had to laugh a little. It
was no wonder that the director was complaining about the heat. They were used to the cool
ocean breezes and constant crap weather. However, it was a known fact that Maine
schools, no matter the location, were good. Really good. Another school that posed a
possible threat, I saw, was from Cleveland. Not only were they organized to beat the boot,
but they were quiet, and at the same time, nearly jumping out of their skin with excitement.
But it wasn't their appearance that scared me, it was the knowledge that they were
renowned and held in high standard with anyone who had a brain. They held the title for
most amount of competitions won, 15 in case you were wondering, and were commended
for their originality and spirit, which would score big with the judges. One girl. A guitarist by
the look of it, saw me staring and smiled, immediately rushing over to me and skidding to a
halt in front of me, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process.
"Hi!" she greeted enthusiastically. I raised an eyebrow and attempted a grin.
"'lo" I said, picking up my violin case and switching it to the same hand as my flute. She
looked down at my cases and smiled.
"Flutist then, eh? And Violin, nice. I play the guitar myself. Bass. What's your name?" she
said, switching topics faster than I could come up with a reply.
"Sakura...and you?" I said, looking behind me to make sure everyone was still there.
"I'm Tomoyo. What school you guys from??" She asked, eyeing our busses speculatively.
"Tall Pines, Jersey. Um, I have to go, were getting ready to leave." I said, turning around.
She nodded and coughed at the dust clouds.
"Kay. See ya around!" she said, it sounded like a promise. I caught up with the rest of my
band and fell in step with Risa, another Flutist and good friend of mine. She smiled and
looked behind her quickly. "Who was that?" she asked, nodding towards the girl, who was
running back to her bus. I shrugged.
"Dunno, she said her name was Tomoyo. They're from Cleveland." I said, switching hands
and shrugging my duffel bags onto my shoulder.
"Ohh, fancy." she said lightly. I laughed and shook my head.
"yea, fancy. Sure. So what do you think Chiharu is gonna get us to do this year?" I asked
with a small grin. She shrugged and rolled her eyes.
"Who knows. That woman is so unbearably indecisive... its crazy." she said and I nodded in
complete agreement. One of my duffel bags slid off of my shoulder and I sighed, turning
around and picking it up. But, like always... I ran into something, or in this case someone, as
I stood back up. It was a head on head collision... semi painful, sending us both groaning.
"Ow...Oh! I am really sorry! You okay?" I spazzed, praying I didn't terminally hurt the kid.
He nodded and stood up, dusting off the back of his pants.
"Yea. Ow... My God, what's your head made of, concrete?" he said standing back up and
looking at me with an implacable expression. I laughed.
"I'm sure some will say so. But I am sorry." I said, grabbing not only my bag, but his and
handing it to him.
"Thanks." he said, shrugging it onto his shoulder. I nodded and hoisted my own onto my arm.
"Well, later." I said, making to turn around and catch up with everyone else, who were
considerably farther away than before.
"Hey!" he called. I turned, not quite sure why though.
"What's your name? I like to keep tabs on my attackers." he joked. I couldn't help but
smile.
"It's Sakura...and you?" I called.
"Syaoran." I nodded.
"Cool. Bye!" I said running away. I thought I heard him laugh or something, but I didn't really
care. I had the strangest feeling that by the end of the summer, I would be able to fill in the
blanks to the ever popular 'One time, At Band Camp' starter.
Okay! What did you think? First chapter! I dunno if its really that good or not, but
I liked the idea and decided to run with it . Anywho. Review and tell me what you
think plz! T'Would mean a lot. Anywho, till next time then!
Ja!