Drumline = Hell | Teen Ink

Drumline = Hell

May 29, 2011
By AliceAngel DIAMOND, Shreveport, Louisiana
AliceAngel DIAMOND, Shreveport, Louisiana
60 articles 52 photos 8 comments

Favorite Quote:
This brick wall I tried so hard to build, is tumbling down. - Me (AliceAngel)

If drama were vodka, everyone at my school would be drunk. - Chloe, one of my friends.


Cheers. Music. Announcers.

Just your usual Friday night football game. But this isn’t just any football game, this is an Allen Eagle football game, where the crowd is big, and the band is huge. And then you see the drumline, with eleven snares, six quads, five basses, and eight or nine cymbals. But there’s that one girl, that one awkward girl on the cymbal line. Yeah, that’s me.

With drumline being hell, and school being about the same, I can only turn to my computer for friendship. Yes, I have some awesome friends, but I can’t trust any of them with my deepest darkest secrets. Like how I think I’m going insane. Or how I have horrible thoughts, which goes along with me going insane.

Where is the pit? Well they are hiding away at the top of the stands, too busy hanging out and dancing. I have at least one awesome friend in the pit, and she’s the only friend I actually talk to most of the time. Yeah, that’s Shannon, the other out-of-place percussionist. She tries to be friends with everyone, but sometimes I just want her to leave me alone.

Being on the cymbal line was fun, but the people that were on it made it hell. Take for example, Mansha. She claims she doesn’t hate me, but I’m not sure about that. With how she keeps telling me to do things I already know I’m supposed to be doing and yelling at me, it just makes me want to start cussing at her. And then there’s Allan, one of the co-leaders for the cymbals section. I know he doesn’t hate me, but just the way he orders us around and everything is kind of starting to tick me off. Brayden, the other co-leader for the cymbals section, is supposedly nice, but I’m not sure about him. I mean, I don’t hate him, but we’re not really friends. I’m just the awkward, invisible girl on cymbals.

Nearing the end of October, Sean, another cymbal player, who was in middle school percussion with me, disappears. I don’t mean he actually disappears, I mean that he’s sick for a while. After a week or 2, it seems he really is sick. While we’re practicing for all-region auditions, Caulin tells us that Sean won’t be coming back to school for a while. He’s really sick and has to stay home.


7 months later.

“Fourth vibe is Colleen.” Mr. Noyes says.

The rest of his sentence is drowned out by the sound of me failing to make cymbals for this year. The rest of his sentence is drowned out by Mr. Noyes letting me down. The rest of his sentence is drowned out by the pain of everything going on right now. I almost can’t hold back my tears.

“Cymbals for this year are Brayden, Mansha…” Mr. Noyes continues.

About a minute later, I see Megan looking back at me. This just makes me want to cry even harder.

While we’re putting up all the mallet instruments and the battery instruments, Mansha comes up to me.

“Hey Colleen.” Mansha says.

“Hey Mansha.” I say.

“Are you okay with not making cymbals this year?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” I say, trying not to cry.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. Well you can still try out for next year.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay. Well you have Taylor and Shannon in the pit with you.”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun. See ya.”

“See ya.”

Well that was weird. I think to myself.

A few minutes later, Megan comes up to me.

“Hey Colleen. Are you okay with not making cymbals?” Megan asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” I say.

“Okay. Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Okay, see ya.”

“See ya.” I say.

Standing there, trying not to cry, I turn around to go look for Taylor. I see Taylor standing over by the back where the band lockers are.

“Taylor, kill me.” I say going over to her.

“Only if you kill me first.” She says. Taylor and I had both tried out for cymbals, but we both made pit instead, so we were both sad about not making it.

“I know, we’ll both have a gun and at the same time we’ll shoot each other.” I say.

“Haha, okay.” Taylor says.

I walk away, thinking about how this year is going to be just like last year. Personally, the pit seems boring. I mean, during parades, the battery actually plays. The pit just carries flags. During football games, the battery actually plays. The pit just hangs out and dances while everyone else in the whole band plays a lot of songs. The battery marches outside with the rest of the marching band. The pit stays inside, not marching. I’d rather be on the battery again this year, even if it would be hell just like last year.

Yes, I know we haven’t even had drum camp (which Megan, Taylor, and I agree that I’m going to die that first day since it’s my birthday.), but I seriously didn’t want to make pit unless I made either chimes, bell kit, or accessories. I mean, Shannon played bell kit this last year and she said I would hate it since its apparently soooo easy. But, I mean, hey! I’d be okay with that! She keeps insisting that I wouldn’t be, but I really would be! But sadly, no one is playing chimes, bell kit, or accessories this year. That really made me sad.
Leaving the high school, I walk to the car and get in the front seat, where I tell my mom the horrible news that I’m going to be playing vibes this year. It’s my sophomore year, and I swear I’m going to be in hell for the rest of high school. Like freshman year wasn’t enough?! Even some of my closest friends made it seem like hell! How can sophomore year compete with that?!

This is when I realize it all goes down from here.


The author's comments:
I decided i wanted to write about something that had happened in my life, so i decided to write about drumline in my freshman year. As of 5/29/11, this coming week is the last week of my freshman year. I was originally going to try to write a really long story (one longer than this) from the beginning of drum camp this year till now and how i think and everything. So this is my story, and i hope you like it.

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