I slowly walked up the sweltering pathway to the courtyard of ‘Dean Erickson Memorial High School.’  (yeah, talk about a mouthful, aye?).  Anyway, as I said, it was sweltering, which is codename for IT’S FREAKING HOT! 

No kidding, I could just plop and egg and pancake batter down on the sidewalk, and I’d have a deluxe breakfast meal in front of me, in under five minutes.  Pair the already hot temperature with the added humidity, add in fact that I’m wearing a pretty heavy jacket, and it just got a whole lot hotter here.  Besides the fact that I’m already hot as it is.

“Shane!” I turned around only to find my idiotic friend running up to me, man boobs swaying back forth.  Yes, it’s not a pretty sight.

“Jorge…” I mumbled under my breath as he came within ear-shot.  “What’s got your man-panties in a bunch?”

“Man panties?!  Oh, that’s a good one!”  Students around us shot odd glances at his explosive laughter.  “Oh, but Shane, you’re going to practice on Thursday, right?”

I raised an eyebrow before I started walking towards the band-room, with him trailing close behind.  “Si, senor.  It’s six to eight, correcto?”

“Correcto?”  I nodded.  “Whatever, anyway, yeah.  I hear we’re getting some new people.”

“Define ‘new.’  As in the band in general, or your section, or mine, or the whole drumline?”

“Definitely NOT a tuba – DePaul says we need to learn to play loud without adding anyone.  I don’t know if you guys are getting anyone new, though.”  Mr. DePaul is the band director here, and his instrument is the tuba – so is Jorge’s.  As for myself, I’m in the pit, or front ensemble.

“I doubt it.  DePaul hates us.  I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t get anyone new until after our class graduates.” 

“Probably.  It’ll probably be a trumpet, or something.  We’re like, really short on high brass.  Which is weird, ‘cause that’s usually where we have the most and—“  He was cut off my the loud bantering as we entered the band-room.  Thank God.  Lord knows how much longer I could’ve taken of his high-pitched voice and gay antics.  Yes, a fat Mexican who’s either a flamer, or hasn’t hit puberty yet.  Personally, I think it’s the latter.

“Well hey there, Shane.”  I ignored Chris trying to talk to me and went straight over to Andrew, who was yet again attempting his never-ending feat to break dance.

“Andrew, you got that shit down yet?”  He laughed and brushed off his shoulders like a true pimp.

“Well, aren’t you cool?”  I rolled my eyes as Chris yet again decided to ruin my life with his presence.  “Shane, did you learn that warm-up yet?”

“No, Chris.  No I did not.”  He gave me a stern look, as if I would all of a sudden give in to his ‘higher power.’  He’s the pit section leader, and I’m not exactly on good grounds with him. 

“I told you to.”

“And your point is…?”

He stepped forward, and I backed up into the wall.  “My point is that as captain, you have to listen to me.  Something you’re not very good at.  So, for once in your life can you stop being a bitch?”  He didn’t get a response.  “Yeah, didn’t think so.”  And with that, he stalked off to go talk to his ‘friends’ – I use that term loosely. 

“Well, looks like you two are getting along,” Kyle said as he walked over to me and Andrew, with his arm around his girlfriend.

“Seriously, I’m so sick of him.  It was fucking fine during Winter Season, but now he’s back to how he was last year during Fall.  I swear he makes me wanna just fucking quit.”

Kyle opened his mouth, most likely to throw around some comforting words, but the bell rung.  Inducing a stampede of band kids running into the hallway making sure to not be late.  I tagged along in the back walking at a relaxed pace, being the usual loner I am.

Yeah, to say I’m not exactly the most popular at school would be an understatement.  The majority of the population here has tendencies to think I’m a serial killer.  Can’t blame them though, ‘cause you know, serial killers always wear black shirts and jeans, and are apparently five foot six teenage girls.  I’d be skeptical if I were them, too.

“HEY!”  I jumped at the random scream in my ear.

“Jackass, thanks for fucking deafening me.”  I scowled his way and he looked over at Becca and Sam.  Fuck that boy for stealing what’s left of my friends, jackass.

“What’s her problem?” he whispered to the two of them.

“MY PROBLEM IS YOU AT THE MOMENT, JACKSHIT!”  He went wide-eyed and I stalked off towards my first hour class – OH!  I’m sorry.  OUR first hour class.

“Whoa!  Hey!”  I heard Sam behind me, but I kept walking.  “What’s wrong, honestly?”

I wanted to ignore her, but I resisted the temptation.  “Nothing.  Chris just pissed me off earlier.  You know how he is.”

“Oh…” she scuffed her foot on the pavement and I took a moment to stop at look at her.   She looked kind of…depressed.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked, and noticed her head shoot up at the question.

“Nothing.  Why would you think something is?”

“Two reasons.  You looking like a little lost soul, and the fact that you’re a horrible liar,” I laughed and briskly jogged up the steps.