Harmony in Dissonance

Band Drama Might Be Worse Than A Soap Opera

Tobias' alarm grates his ears, his phone vibrating against the hardwood of the nightstand. He groans. It's too fucking early for this. This is the day he's been dreading all summer: July 18th, or what he likes to call "the beginning of four hellish months for a ten minute show that might not even medal because the judges have a huge bias that they refuse to let go of." Whatever. He needs to do something else before he goes on an internal monologue about the unfairness of marching contests.

Maybe getting breakfast would be a good start so he doesn't pass out on the first day.

He looks around his room. It's a mess in here- there's clothes strewn all over the floor, a pair of shoes sit on his dresser, and his drill book is laying open on the floor. He desperately needs to clean, but that's a task for Sunday, if he gets around to it. For now, he pulls on a shirt, changes into some shorts, and puts on the worn-flat tennis shoes that have somehow survived four marching seasons. He looks at himself in the mirror and tucks in his shirt in an attempt to look put-together. His platinum blonde hair is already scraggly- he forgot to wash it last night. He takes a moment to slick it down, pretending this humidity won't ruin it in an hour.

Tobias trudges downstairs, his footsteps heavy on the creaky wood steps. To his relief, the kitchen is empty. His parents have, hopefully, left for the day. He reaches into the freezer, pulls out a frozen waffle, and pops it in the microwave. While it's heating up, he fills his gallon jug with ice-cold water. It'll only stay cold for probably an hour at most, but it's worth the effort. The microwave beeps, and he grabs his food and sits down at the table.

He only manages to eat about half of it before he starts to feel nauseous. This always happens- he's not much of a morning person to begin with, and combined with the nerves and excitement that come with the first day of band camp, he's just not hungry. So he puts the other half in a Ziploc bag, stuffs it in his backpack, and heads out to his car. Thankfully, it's not hot outside yet. Just agonizingly humid.

Exactly seven minutes later, Tobias pulls into the parking lot, already dreading the day ahead of him. It would be unbearably hot, entirely too loud, he'd get yelled at twenty times, and probably end the day with a migraine induced either by trumpets or a guard-related concussion. Maybe if he drove away and just didn't show up–

No. He has to get this solo, needs to get this solo. He worked this far, probably could've gotten a solo last year if it wasn't for the band director's daughter. The band lot was crowded, to say the least. Front ensemble was already rolling their instruments out, flag bags littered the back sidewalk in unorganized piles, and various instruments laid on strips of turf scattered around the lot to prevent any damage to the expensive items. The sound of a click track could be heard from a mile away, even over the trumpets using it. Already the way his clothes stuck to his skin and a hundred instruments played over each other was enough for Tobias to be overstimulated, disrupting the silence he'd gotten a little too used to in the past week.

"Tobiaaaassss!"

A loud thump against his window startles him out of his thoughts. Of course, it's Willow, smiling widely at him. Opening the car door, Tobias can practically feel the bubbling excitement radiating off of her. How she can manage to be this excited at 5:45 AM is beyond him, especially at band camp.

"A little warning would've been nice,"

"I did," She rolls her eyes. "I knocked, but your music was too loud."

"I.." Tobias is visibly confused. "I wasn't playing music..?--"

"Anyway," she interrupts. "I saw you pull up but you didn't get out of your car so I figured you might've been having one of your 'Oh my god, kill me now' moments, and I was right!"