Farecrest Academy

CHAPTER II

I woke up to the sound of Ethan screaming to the top of his lungs.  Sighing, I croaked my eyes open, swung my feet over my bed, and shuffled towards his room knocking down anything in my way.  After stubbing my toe and almost giving myself a concussion, I finally made it to his room.  I grabbed the crying 8 month baby and rubbed his pack, comforting him with whispers.

            “It’s alright.  Sissy’s here, Ethan.”

Luckily, it took only seconds for him to fall back to sleep.  Silently sighing to myself in relief, I gently placed Ethan back in his bed; but that was when I witnessed a yellow sticky note resting on top of Ethan’s favorite stuffed bear: Mister Grizzlie.  

“Claire, I’ve already ordered a baby sitter for the entire week for Alice and Ethan.  Her   name’s Angela; she’s 24; she’s fun and young and perfect of those little monsters.  So now all you have to worry about beating all the other marching bands at state!

                                                                                                            Love always
                                                                                                                        Mom”

I shook my head, smiling.  I can always count on her when it came to marching band; she used to love it during her high school years.  Sighing, I closed Ethan’s door, put on polyvore, grabbed my keys, and left the house.  For some strange reason, it felt as if today’s the best day in the world.  Today marks the last day of marching band, Mom already hired a babysitter for Eleanor and Ethan, and Mr. Gispon asked me to play the new trumpet solo for opener.  How better can this day get?  I pulled onto the school campus and parked my black Hyundai, but that was when I felt a something crash into me from behind causing my head to be thrown on the steering wheel’s rim.  Perhaps yesterday morning it would’ve hurt, but strangely I felt no sort of pain from the accident.  Instead, I witnessed a bent, cripple wheel in front of my eyes. 

            “Oh My Gosh!  Claire!” Holton shouted threw the window, startling me.  “I’m so sorry!  I was coming in hot and couldn’t stop!”

            I nodded, showing some sort of interest for his sake.  The only thing on my mind at the moment was the steering wheel.  Was it because of the impact?  Was I simply imagining things? 

            “Claire?” Holton asked.

            Screwing my head back to reality, I stepped out the car and took a look at the damage—it was pretty bad.

            I shook my head anxious about the fact my car was wrecked and my imagination was getting the best of me.  “H-Holton, we’ll just talk about this after school.  Let’s j-just get to class.”

The boy sighed in relief, but in those green eyes I could tell he was just as anxious as me.  “Okay, Claire.  Thanks for not spazzing out like I did earlier.  I don’t know why Abby always fuck with you.”

I sighed thinking back to all of the mean, horrid things she did to me.  “Maybe it’s because we were best friends back in elementary school.”

Holton laughed with me smiling in following.  “Yeah, those were the days, wasn’t it?  Making mud pies, basically torturing Ms. Marriam’s cat.  Why don’t we hang out anymore Claire?”

I shrugged throwing my hands.  “I have band, and you have soccer.  Then there’s Abby who doesn’t want to be anywhere near me.”

            “Wow,” a familiar, girly voice said from behind me.  “You’re not as dumb as I thought, Claire.”

            I turned around to see Abby Martinez standing in polyvore.  Her tan face was caked with makeup, and her thick, blonde hair flew freely against her hips.  She looked down at me with those eerie, hazel eyes with a smug look.  “Anyways,” she sighed, totally blowing Holton and my conversation off.  “Are we still throwing the Halloween party tonight?  Lots of people have been asking if it’s still going on.”

            Holton nodded wrapping his arm around his human-like dog.  “Yeah, of course.  You wanna come with, Claire?”

            My face turned as red as a rosebush; no one’s ever asked me to attend a party.  This is the best thing ever!  I cut my eyes over at Abigayle and witnessed the fury in her eyes causing my mind to rejoice.  But that was when I remembered my planned activities with band.  Today was state championships, the biggest day known to all band nerds of America.  I sighed raking my hair back.  “I’m so sorry Holton, but I have band.  Today’s state championships, and I don’t want to let them down.”

            A light, cocky grin popped up on Abby’s face.  “I totally agree.  Our band is the best band in the state.  We have to keep the reputation going, don’t we Holton?”

            By the look on his face, I could tell he wasn’t as estatic as Abby was.  “Yeah, Abby.  I should…get going to class.  We’ve only got a few minutes before the tardy bell.”

            “Yeah, Mr. Gar—

            I started, but he continued to walk off with his arm wrapped around Abby’s waist leaving my behind.  Silently sighing to myself in disappointment, I walked to the band hall, grabbed my books, and headed towards class.

After hours of boring information I’m sure I wouldn’t use in years, it was finally time for marching band.  I changed into polyvore, grabbed my trumpet, filled my water bottle, and ran out to the parking lot where the others waited. 

            “Claire,” Mr. Helsen called, “I need to talk to you about the solo.”

            Grinning, I set down my intstrument and jogged over towards him.  “Yes, sir?”

            The man sighed, shaking his head.  “About the solo, you are an amazing player, and your performance was phenomenal.  But I had to give the solo to Andy.”

            I frowned fighting the urge not to drop to the floor.  After so much work I’ve put into the piece, it ended up being given to a stupid flute?  “B-But, Mr. Helsen—

            “I know, Claire.  But Andy is just more consistent than you are.  You both are amazing players and have astonishing talent; but Andy is it.  Oh, Claire, I’ve been looking at a solo for symphonic band, though.  Perhaps you could try it out?” he explained further.

            Shaking my head, I raked my hair back trying to get a grip.  I’ve sacrificed so much for this band, and this is my reward?  “No, Mr. Helsen, I don’t think I’m auditioning for anymore solos.  Actually, I don’t think I’m playing this trumpet for the next few years.  I’m done with marching band.  Good luck at state.”

            I turned on my heel making sure the ends of my hair put a whipin’ on his face.  Everywhere I turned, band kids looked at me in awe.  We all talk about how we’re quitting, the band students; but no one ever does it.  We always get pulled back into this black hole of love for music.  It’s a bit like smoking, when you think about it.  Smokers always swear they’ll quit, but right after the taste of pure, seductive tobacco, they’re stuck.  But guess what?  I’m one of the few who had the will power to quit.  I’m done smoking, forever.