My First Season With The Waterford Wildcat Pride Marching Band

1167 Words Feb 6th, 2016 5 Pages
Blues, classical, pop, and any other kind of music that caught my attention filled my head with notes of strife and peace, with passion and apathy, with every other emotion imaginable running amuck through the mind of a seventh grader. Noise filled the empty hours of everyday, and kept my mind occupied, which was my sole defense against the depressive thoughts trying to leach their cold fingers through my mind. Music started as an innocent hobby, but soon crept throughout my whole life. My first season with the Waterford Wildcat Pride Marching Band was doomed for failure from month one. Unknown to my mother and Mr. Laswell, the director, an eavesdropper listened to their private conversation. “How is Tiffany doing? I mean this is her first year playing tenor saxophone, so I was wondering how her playing is,” my mother so innocently inquired. “She’s doing really well. Tiffany already surpassed the senior tenor play after only two weeks of practicing. She’s a natural!” Mr. Laswell responded. Upon hearing those words pass the lips of the director, the eavesdropped slipped out of the room. The eavesdropper was none other than the senior tenor player, and her new found animosity spread throughout the band overnight. Thus, what was once a melody of welcome turned into discorded hatred, aimed solely at myself. Starting from the downbeat of practice the next day, I discovered I was an outcast. By the end of practice, ideas and questions buzzed through my mind at 300 beats per…

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