Chapter Four

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Sorry for the long delay, I just can't get anything more written about this story, so I'm going to upload what I have done so far, but then it's on hold--indefinitely. Anyway, I feel like this chapter shows off my marching band nerdiness, because basically, this is how every Friday night during football season is for me -- minus the storyline... haha but anyway, our band director is actually named Mr. D, but we sometimes just call him D. No one calls him Mr. Dellifield like he should be called haha. He's the coolest old guy I know. Seriously. 

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Chapter Four

          I had a friend drive me home after school. I had a few hours before call time. I did my homework and packed my things for later. I put on my tennis shoes and short Soffe shorts. I slipped on a tank top, and grabbed my white plastic garment bag.

          I hopped into Annabel’s car. She was my best friend since kindergarten. We hadn’t hung out since Luke’s death. I felt bad for ditching her like that, but Annabel would be the one to understand.

          “Sorry for not hanging out for the past…,” I paused, trying to think of how long since Luke had died. It felt like eternity.

          “It’s fine, I’m just glad to have my best friend back. Now, what’s the scoop on you and Decklan Foster?” She winked.

          “There is no scoop. We’re just going through a hard time together,” I laughed.

          “Sure,” she said, not convinced, “Soon it’ll be you’re just going through life together, as in married.”

          “I’m only a junior!” I laughed.

          “But he’s a senior, and I can see him wanting to settle down after high school and college and have a million kids.”

          “Well, I highly doubt it’d be with me,” I rolled my eyes.

          “I’ll bet you right here and now that you’ll end up with him.”

          “What’re we betting?”

          “My car,” she said.

          “Deal,” I said. She had a Porsche; of course I’d bet her!

          We spat into our hands and shook on it. It felt good to be normal again. Normalcy was something I’d craved since Luke died. Everything seemed so muddled and torn and broken in my mind. It was like the pieces that were keeping me sane had all but disappeared.

          We arrived at the school, parking in the student parking lot and walking with our large garment bags in tow. We dropped them in the hallway along with everyone else’s. We went and got our horns and polished them and stapled on new streamers.

          We sat in our seats and waited for D, our band instructor to tell us to head outside and get into pregame formation on the practice lot.

          “Remember, tonight is Luke’s honor night, so Violet, you’ll be sitting out during half-time,” he said, “Let’s go!”

          We all walked out in our short shorts and old tennis shoes and t-shirts that didn’t match. Our hair was pulled into messy buns and ponytails.

          Our school’s marching band was called The Brass. We were the biggest and loudest band in our entire county. We were one hundred and fifty strong. Our band was composed of percussion, trumpets, trombones, baritones, French horns, and four sousaphones. We always had a good time; our fast-paced loud songs had choreographed dances.

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