Band Camp

Chapter One

Annabelle May is beginning her senior year with something she's always enjoyed; band camp. It's senior year so she plans on making it the best year yet, but it's not easy when she discovers the snarky Mason Jones received the postion of drum major.
His goal is to make her life hell as she practices and learns new things everyday throughout August. But she's not ready to give up yet. She's determined to make his true self come out to everyone, but it backfires on her. What happens when Annabelle finds herself opening up to Mason, but there's another guy she's opened up to weeks ago? Will she begin to swoon after Mason or the boy she fell for weeks before hand?
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7/31

I'm surrounded by an endless amount of wadded up clothes and musky luggage. Heaps of vivid clothes confine me from my parents who are busying themselves with small things.
My mother is frantically pacing around the kitchen looking for my emergency inhaler that's stored in one of our cabinets, despite the fact that I haven't had an asthma attack since I was nine. My father is oblivious to my agitated sighs that escape my mouth due to the stress building up inside me from my last minute packing. Every year its like this: I'm packing last minute, scrounging around trying to find the clothes I thought I packed while my mom is trying to help, but in all honesty she's not.

"I don't need my inhaler mom," I grumble.

She stops in her tracks to give me a glare that feels like a dagger being pulled across my skin, "But what if? What if you have an asthma attack while your there? You're there for an entire month and I want you to be prepared in case something might go wrong, okay?" The way her eyes glance at me make me want to melt at her feet and apologize. I know there isn't a need for one, but I reluctantly nod my head to please my mother.
After a few minutes she rushes back to me a devilish grin plastered on her face.

I glance down to see my tacky red inhaler in her hand, "Found it!"

I've never used it, but I'm sure it's probably long past it's expiration date but I snatch it out of her hands anyways, shoving it into my suitcase. The suitcase's material is fraying at the ends but I won't get rid of it. It's been apart of some of my greatest memories: Disney World, Paris, Germany, Poland, and twenty-eight of the fifty states. My family travels a lot due to my dad's work. He has to travel long distances in order to make deals with power hungry investors throughout the world. And instead of leaving us behind, we come with.
I can hear my dad sigh behind my mother, which makes her roll her eyes the exact same way I do when she annoys me. I let out a laugh because this is one of the few ways we're similar, which confuses my dad, but I ignore his puzzled look. Her lips curve into a soft smile, letting two indents form in the apples of her cheeks.
My mom always had a softer look to her face. She has dull blonde ringlets that frame her rosy cheeks, making her look like she hasn't aged a day since she was in her youth. Tanned skin, blue eyes, and a petite frame; something people could describe as perfect. But I'm the complete opposite though. Dark brown hair that has an awkward wave to it, pale skin, brown eyes, and a lanky body. I'm five-eight which is completely unheard of in my family, which makes me the outcast within the boundaries I should feel safest. All the females on both ends of my family have small frames, never surpassing five-four. That always made me feel self-conscious and flustered as of why I had to receive these genetics. People think short girls are enchanting and adorable, which makes me everything but. I'm not as prepossessing as the girls at my school who have a big ass and boobs, long blonde hair, and a pretty face. I'm not saying I'm the ugliest person to walk the face of this planet, but I'm obviously not super model worthy. I'm not a socialite who drinks until their stomach churns and adrenaline pumps through their veins. That's just not me.

There's a reason I carry a trumpet and not pompoms.

Six hours later and I'm no longer surrounded by heaps of wadded up clothes and toiletries. But I'm surrounded by suitcases packed neatly to the brim and a trumpet case. It took an eternity to try to shut the suitcases by sitting on top of them and rearranging the layout I had planned. This is the last time I'll be sitting here, flustered over tank tops and athletic shorts. I frown at the realization that this is the last time I'll do this; pack for band camp. My breathing falters as I blink the tears brimming my eyes away, trying to calm myself down before my family sees me. I can feel my face flushing as I try to reassure and calm myself while I perch myself on the floor, but it's no help.