2•the field

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I left Daniel to head for the field. Mr. Gunderson, our band director, had told me to wait there for further instructions upon arrival.

Even though it's only my first year marching (as a junior, no less) I grew up hearing stories about Drum Corps and it's glories from Lori. Of course, back then I only heard Lori's stories at Christmas and on vacations. Moving to Omaha and Lori and leaving the first 16 years of my life behind is a relatively new development.

My parents have always been out of the picture, no questions asked. Before the move, I had lived with my aunt, a nurse down in Albuquerque. Life was unpredictable but normal at the same time. I went to an average high school with the same old cliques. My group of friends was small but I wouldn't say we were popular or the loners. We were that group of girls that were nice and went through school getting good grades, minding our business, and secretly dreaming of tomorrow.

Then, like a movie, came the turning point. About a month ago my aunt decided to follow her dream of enlisting in the Army Nurse Corps, and it was time for me to go to Grandma's. Lori lived in Omaha, a hidden but nice enough city out in the Midwest. Lori knew I played baritone and guilt-tripped me into joining the marching band.

This all led me here, walking in the parking lot of Westmont High School on the first day of school. I was headed to the football field to participate in an activity I knew very little about, and deep down I was as scared as my aunt must be right now.

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