Seriously, just how good is the Westlake drumline? I answer, “Sorry, I didn’t think to.”
Denny looks at me and says, “That was some great set playing out there.”
“I know” is my super suave answer. I’m not good at taking compliments, so what? I am a great set player. I continue awkwardly, “Umm, who are you playing with?”
“Oh, I’m just filling in for a buddy from another school. Honestly, there’s not really enough time to be in a band during marching season.”
Was that a challenge? I couldn’t imagine not being in band. Maybe Denny has time management issues, because I was definitely going to be in both marching band and a rock band. Not wanting to ruin the fun atmosphere, I dig around in my canvas bag and pull out my digital camera, shouting, “Picture time!”
Beans and Cornbread gather in and Denny takes our picture. I thrust the camera in Fedora Boy’s hands and say, “Get a picture of me and my quint leader!”
Denny’s all weirdly awkward about where he should stand, when I decide to reenact our special moment from a few days ago. I wrap my arms around his neck and launch myself into his arms, saying, “Catch me!”
Even though I’ve surprised him, he swings one strong arm under my legs and another behind my back and we pose in a few different crazy ways for the camera before he puts me back down – again, as if I weigh nothing, which, if my scale tells me anything, I know I do not.
“Looks like it’s almost time for me to go on,” Denny says and walks away, leaving me alone with my insta-band mates.
Tucking my hands in my pockets, I say, “Okay, then, guys, I’ll see you around. Thanks for letting me sub.”
Beans and Cornbread suddenly crowd around me. Tall Guy scuffs his foot on the ground and asks, “Hey Julia?”
I pretend not to know what’s coming and answer sweetly, “Yes?”
“Well, we’ve kind of been looking for an excuse to… Would you be interested in becoming our full time drummer?”
A few feet away, Denny looks our direction with interest. I make eye contact and subliminally ask, ‘Are these guys cool?’ He seems to get the question and nods slightly.
I look back at Tall Guy and say, “Sounds great.” We exchange info (including their names –
thank goodness) and I say, “Call me and we’ll talk practices.”
I hustle back to the crowd and keep my fingers crossed Laurel is still there. She is.
“Where have you been?”
“Umm…well, actually that was me on stage with Beans and Cornbread. Why? Were you worried about me?”
She plays with a piece of grass and says, “You’re not from here…you might have got lost or something.”
Aww, she does care – maybe I’ve made my first friend! I doubt Laurel wants this fact pointed out, so I say, “Nope. In fact, I have proof – want to see the pictures?”
“Maybe later – Denny’s band is about to start.”
“I know, I saw him backstage.”
Laurel looks jealously at me, so I tuck my camera away and ask, “Do you want to go see him backstage when they’re done with their set?”
Laurel immediately flushes and practically shouts, “No way!”
Wow. She must be in You Have a Crush: Phase 1. In Phase 1, it’s usually just enough you see the boy (or girl) of your dreams, but you are definitely not ready to a) actually admit you even have a crush or b) go out of your way to make contact with that person. I kind of want to push Laurel up to Phase 2, because that is a pretty great place to be, but I’m not sure I know her well enough yet.
I put up my hands and answer, “No worries.”
After Denny’s set comes a very added (and unexpected) bonus – McDaniel’s band, The Freshers. They are of the ska persuasion, and as I note jealously, have a rockin’ horn section, featuring, who else? Kimberly. The worst part? She’s totally awesome! I don’t know the first thing about playing the trumpet, but based on audience reaction, I can tell she is really good. In addition to a trumpet, The Freshers also have a trombone and a saxophone. It’s pretty obvious they are going to win the Battle today. Their sound is very tight, but, as I listen intently on the beats McDaniel is laying down, I know I am the better drum set player and somehow, that fact makes me feel pretty good.
As The Freshers launch into their next song, I take the opportunity of my sweet zoom lens and snap a whole bunch of ‘McDaniel in Action’ shots. I guess Laurel’s not the only one trying to move past Phase 1. With our respective crushes sets done, she and I decide to leave. If for whatever reason Beans and Cornbread does win, I’ll let them bask in the glory without me.
“You know, I actually had a good time today,” Laurel admits to me.
“So did I.”
When I get home, I upload the pictures from my day of fun and giggle in delight over the pictures of McDaniel. I can now show Kat photographic evidence of his cuteness. Opening my inbox, I find two surprising e-mails.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Glad to see you out and enjoying all the Westlake community has to offer. Thought you might appreciate this picture.
Get ready for Monday…
Denny
(Attachment)
I quickly open the picture and instantly smile – it’s an action shot of me from my first performance with Beans and Cornbread. I look appropriately intense. Being a drummer, there were so few good pictures taken of me, my face is almost always obscured by a cymbal or someone’s guitar. Scanning through my photos, I see the picture of us and attach it to my reply.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Hey dude,
Thanks for the awesome pic!! I love it. Anyway, here’s one of us acting like we are crazy.
I’ll be ready for Monday, don’t worry about me.
Julia
(Attachment)
I open the other e-mail.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Saturday afternoons at Tyler’s house. Can you dig it?
I’m not sure which one Tyler is, but I can’t wait!
* * *
CHAPTER SIX: Stuck in the Middle
I’m a little nervous about meeting my other section mates in the last week of the school year. Apparently, playing quints is more important than studying for Finals since we’ll be practicing every day after school. I am anxious as I enter the band room and see Denny noodling with two other guys.
My section leader looks up and introduces us, “Hey Julia, this is Max and Stan. Max and Stan, this is Julia.”
They each give me the universal guy head nod and go back to their warm up. I take the opportunity to appraise my section mates. Max is kind of tall, definitely on the lean side, with semi-longish brown hair which is currently under a well worn Yankees hat. Stan is of Korean descent with his jet black hair closely cropped. Unsurprisingly, I am easily the shortest person in the section. Denny’s already informed me we line up in descending order by height on the right side of the snares. So, in order Max, Denny, Stan and me. All alone. By myself. On the end.
They continue messing around and, never one to wait or ask permission I grab Quincy and sit him down. They’ve set up like a triangle, but, with their help, I wedge my tenors in so we’re a nice little square.
Denny announces, “Okay, this is just an informal practice, so no one needs to get worked up or anything. We’ve got a long season ahead of us and need to be as tight as possible if we’re going to be competitive. Guys, you already know Julia doesn’t have as much experience as you, but she’s working and will keep practicing all summer.”
As Denny informed me last week, he and Max are returning to the section and Stan got recruited from the bass line. So, that makes two newbies and two veterans. We go through the warm-ups Denny taught me and for the 117th time in a week, I am thankful my old drum set instructor forced me to work very hard at my rudiments. It’s a little diff
erent playing with tenor mallets than drum sticks, but so far I’m at least keeping up with the rest of the section. I guess it’s like Denny says, ‘If you can’t play a lick on one drum, you aren’t going to be able to play it on two, three, four, or five.’
Although I am intimidated as hell, I try not to let it slow me down. Something tells me if I show any weakness they’ll be all over me. I want them to know, no matter what, I am not backing down, and they will be proud I was added to their section.
We get through the first practice session easily enough. My forearms are kind of aching at the end of the hour because I am using muscles I never knew I had, but it is a good feeling.
Denny stretches and says, “Alright team, that’s enough for today, I think.”
The guys all get up to leave. I remain seated.
Denny asks, “Julia? Are you going to join us?”
I shake my head, “You guys have to study. I need to practice.”
Stan and Max exchange a look, which I hope is an approving one.
Denny nods and says, “Alright, but don’t stay too late.”
On Thursday, our last practice day, I’m starting to get to know these guys a little better. I’m not sure if a guardian angel was looking over me, but being next to Stan is going to make for a very fun season. He is a virtual joke machine and constantly trying Denny’s patience. It’s nearly impossible for me to stand at perfect attention with Stan always whispering some sort of random joke.
Today, we’re outside, wearing the quints. Which, after any amount of time over ten minutes, become super heavy. I have already looked up all these upper and lower back strengthening exercises to work on this summer, but it’s going to take time to get used to the weight.
Denny decides to test our “at attention” skills. As we stand, backs straight, sweating in the hot Georgia sun, I see a figure approaching us. A decidedly male figure. A male figure I have been dreaming about, hoping he would show at practice for the past three days.
McDaniel stands about five feet off, his blue eyes coolly reviewing our postures. He certainly looks intimidating. I mean, smokin’ hot, but also really intense. I have to actually resist the urge not to lick my lips.
“At ease,” says McDaniel in a weird tone.
Did I hear him right? I immediately break attention, and my muscles practically sing in release.
“McCoy?” asks Denny abruptly.
What happened to Julia?
“Yes?” I resist the urge to say sir.
“Did I break you from attention?”
Now I’m confused. Did I miss something? Isn’t McDaniel in charge of all of us? I shake my head slowly and say, “No.”
“Are Stan and Max still at attention?”
I look over and sure enough, there are my section mates, standing tall and proud. I look down and say, “Yes.”
“Then why aren’t you?”
What has come over Denny? Just because McDaniel’s around, this gives him license to act like a complete and total jerk? The answer I give is not really a polite one, and I think, judging by the look on everyone’s face, my section has vastly underestimated me and my ability to insult. Some sort of look passes between Denny and McDaniel.
“Twenty should do it,” says McDaniel, “Don’t you think so, Denny?”
Judging by the twitch in his jaw, I think Denny is actually too angry to put a complete sentence together, so I ask McDaniel, “Twenty what?”
“Push-ups, McCoy. You can’t disrespect your section leader like that.”
What happened to cute and nice McDaniel? Where did he go? And when did we enter the military? And how did McDaniel and Denny go from disagreeing with each other to being in harmony in a matter of seconds? When I see no one is making a joke of this, I decide I’m not going to let them intimidate me. I really thought I was getting a handle on things, but I guess I was wrong. With thoughts continue bouncing around my head, I place Quincy and my carrier carefully on the ground. Gritting my teeth and kneeling down, I start the push ups, wondering how in a matter of minutes I went from complete understanding to no clue. The rest of my section stands at perfect attention, which is kind of mocking me. Struggling to finish, I get up slowly and put Quincy back on. McDaniel grumbles loudly, “I let you off easy this time.”
Easy? Is this guy crazy?
“Next time you’ll have to stand at perfect attention for five minutes. If you move once, then the time starts over again.”
I continue looking straight ahead; really glad I’m wearing my Ray Ban’s because tears of frustration are pricking the back of my eyes. McDaniel walks away.
Denny says in a very controlled voice, “Max and Stan, you’re done for today. I’ll see you on Monday morning.”
They nod, flip up their quints, and head towards the school.
I’m waiting to get yelled at and idly wondering if all this frustration and sweat is worth it. I mean, at this point, with the exception of Laurel, I haven’t even met the rest of the Line. Sure, I’ll be going to school with people who know I’m a total flake, but at least I won’t be made to feel approximately two feet tall.
Oh crap, Denny is talking. And again, I’m not listening. Angry, I don’t care. Giving up on the epic struggle between trying to understand the bizarro interaction between Denny and McDaniel, I mentally tell Quincy to lose a few pounds.
Denny sighs and says, “I don’t know what to do with you, Julia.”
“So, we’re back to Julia?”
“Yes,” he grumbles. “You can break attention.”
I raise my eyebrow and ask, “Are you sure? I don’t really think I have another twenty push-ups in me.”
“Yes.”
I immediately flip up my quints and take Quincy off, rubbing my shoulders, desperate to release the tension.
“Here.” Denny moves behind me and begins rubbing my shoulders. Is this guy bipolar or something? I mean, if he thinks he can just…ooohhhh….except it’s hard to stay mad at anyone when they obviously know what they are doing. I start to understand what Laurel sees in this guy.
I manage to make some fairly embarrassing sounds before I say, “I guess don’t know all the rules yet.”
“You’ll learn.”
“Yeah, and have killer pecs by the time I do. C cup here I come!”
Denny laughs good-naturedly. And the lesson learned today kids, is, while on paper, your first allegiance should be to the Line or band as a whole, in reality, you have to respect your section above all others. Especially when there are two male egos involved. Especially when those two males are drummers. Figuring now is as good a time as any, I ask, “What’s up with you and McDaniel anyway?”
Denny stops rubbing my shoulders (darn!) and answers carefully, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re friends.”
“Friends?” I ask in disbelief, “Sure. Have you guys always been like that?”
“Like what?”
How can he not know what I’m talking about? “Like you have to prove who has the bigger—”
“That’s enough, Julia.”
“Fine.”
I inch closer to him and pick up one of his hands and put it on my shoulder, hoping he’ll get the hint. He starts rubbing my shoulders again – bliss – and says, “I’m only trying to prep you for what it’s going to be like with the whole Line. You haven’t even met Wade yet.”
So far, it sounds like when we practice with the entire Line it’s basically a no smiling, all discipline, hard core, bunch of hours. What have I got myself into?
On Monday, I rise early for the first (and only) all Line practice of the summer. This is the Westlake high school drumline and wouldn’t you think they would practice every day? Or, at least once a month? We only have one during the summer because many of the Line members march with DCI (which is like the major league of marching band – I guess that puts me in the minors). When I learned this was our only practice before band camp, I got a little depressed. I had visions of seeing McDaniel on a mi
nimum of a weekly or biweekly basis. In my imagination, I would get to show off my extensive cute summer wardrobe and genuinely awesome self and we would totally be dating by the Fourth of July. Of course, McDaniel is off to The Cavaliers for the summer months. The one good thing about McDaniel being a Cavalier is it is an all dude corps so Kimberly (or any other girl, for that matter) will not be spending time with him.
This practice is also the first time I will meet The Instructor. Yes, please note the capital T and capital I. Whenever Denny or McDaniel talk about ‘him,’ it’s always with the utmost respect and regard. Our instructor’s name is Wade Robinson. From the basic knowledge I’ve been able to glean about him, he is a bit of a control freak. So much so, that while many other drumlines might have additional support for their sections, Wade runs things by himself.
In addition to Wade, this will be the first time I meet everyone on the Line. The stares follow me as I join the half arc. I ignore them. Apparently, I’ve already pissed off the players who thought they were good enough for the Quint Four spot. As a girl drum set player, I’m used to being looked at. Laurel flashes me a quick thumbs up. Max and Stan give me looks of support.
Then Wade appears. He looks like, kind of a cross between Corbin Bleu and a young Taye Diggs. It is a very yummy combination. Already lost in romantic daydreams, I’m rudely interrupted. In my thoughts, this excellent specimen of man never barks the following words: “Alright then, this is our one practice this summer. Let’s not waste my time.”
Confessions of a Teenage Band Geek Page 4
