September 1st, 2018
I start my first day of senior year today, and I can't help but feel nervous. I mean, not many people stay in marching band all throughout high school and middle school, but as long as I get the fine arts credits to graduate I'm happy. Don't get me wrong, marching band is the best, but one can only stand the marches for so long; and don't even get me started on some of the people in there. Call me a band geek, but I absolutely hate it when people stay in marching band only to complain and not even try, like, WHY ARE YOU EVEN IN THIS CLASS?! Anyways, I'd better sign off, gotta mentally prepare myself for lunch, if you know what I mean.
I sighed as I finished writing in my diary, closing it in the process. I know it's kind of odd for a senior in high school to still be keeping a diary, but it's always helped me relieve stress in positive ways. I've kept diaries since the beginning of 6th grade, since my parents thought it would be wise to write down my changes and stuff and reread it in the future to see how much I've grown and all that junk, but I guess I can't really argue with them. However, it isn't really myself that changed, rather everyone around me. Take Ram Sweeney for example, he was a sweet kid, and I could see why Martha liked him back then, but now... I don't understand what she still sees in him, but I won't insult my best friend because of her taste in people.
'Speaking of my best friend since diapers, where is she? I haven't seen her at all today, and she would've texted me if she was sick...' my mind starts flooding with the worst possibilities that may or may not be true. Since I was so deep in thought, I failed to notice Martha walking up to the lunch table I was at.
I nearly jump 3 feet in the air, my head snapping in her direction.
"O-oh, Martha, you startled me." I managed to get out.
"I can tell," she says between chuckles, "Anyways, sorry about being late, I slept in."
"That's a first," I reply, "Did your alarm clock not go off, or something?"
"No, it did, several times actually," Martha says sheepishly, "It's just that the snooze button works a little too well..."
I just chuckle, only stopping when I see the cafeteria doors open, revealing none other than the Heathers. I can visibly tell when Martha freezes up, since her history with the Heathers isn't a pretty one. It's kind of odd, since Martha and I used to be BFFs with Heather Duke, but something happened during freshman year, and the next day she came in wearing green and walking with the other Heathers, the next baddest clique to hit Westerberg High in years. I then see Heather Chandler, the demon queen herself, push some nerd into Kurt and Ram, leaving him for dead.
'Welp, this is gonna be a long day.'
I sigh as the bell rings, telling me 6th hour being over.
'Final hour of the day, band...' I think as I make my way down the hallway to the fine arts hallway. I sigh again. 'Man, I really need to stop sighing, it's starting to get old.'
I make sure to grab my music as well as my trombone from my locker, making sure none of its contents are outside of the small folder. I then make my way into the band room, walking past the rest of the students who are digging in their lockers for the same reason I was. I find my seat, which is first chair, and put my trombone together. Once that simple task is done, I start by practicing with some scales and then my marching music. I will admit that it's been a while since I played, probably a few weeks, so my lips are trying to get used to the somewhat regular feel of my mouthpiece against them.
Once everyone is in the band room and they're either practicing or assembling their instruments, the band teacher speaks.
"Alright students, I know it's a new school year and I'm sure you're all excited to play."
Everyone in the room besides the band teacher call out unenthusiastic 'yay's.
"Excitement noted," he replies, "But that'll change when you meet our new student!"
"Wait, but there are no transferring kids this year!" called someone from the trumpet section.
"You're correct there, when I mean 'new student', I mean a new student in this class."
The classroom lets out an 'ohh'.
"What instrument do they play?" says the same trumpet player.
The trumpets let out an 'aww' as the clarinets look excited.
"And she's a senior who has been playing outside of band until just this year, when I convinced her to join."
"Do we know her?" asks a clarinet player this time.
"I'm sure you'll know her when you see her." the teacher gives a smug look.
The class is confused, staring at the teacher like he just licked the floor.
"Anyways, here she is now." when the door opens but no one comes in, he simply says, "Now, now, don't be shy."
I thought it was just gonna be a regular school year, but I could never have guessed how wrong I was. Well, maybe I could when I saw Heather Chandler walk through the door.