Band and Beginnings

Boring, but every good story must start with background.

Yes, I know many of you who might come across this will scoff at the title. A teenage love story?
An oxymoron in itself.
But I was one of those rare few who got to have that special teenage love. Those kinds that make you believe in fate, destiny, and the huge role that chance plays in our everyday lives.
And I'm here to share my story.
It began when I was in 8th grade. I was in Germany and had been there for two years. I was in band, and it was my first year on tenor sax. I wasn't even supposed to be in band, but I didn't complain.
I fell in love with playing tenor.
I was terrible at first. I swear my parents ears were bleeding, because mine certainly were.
But I gradually became better... Much better. In fact, the beginning of third quarter, I was selected to go the district honor band.
Three cheers for being a band dork.
Now, that horrid morning we were all forced to wake at the ungodly hour of four, the bus pulled up and we all marched on.
And I slept on my friend Kaitlin the whole ride.
But she was asleep too, so she didn't complain.
When we got off, we were wide awake. My classmates and I were in awe about where we were playing.
Honestly, we were all giddy as f**k.
It was a beautiful area, with rows and rows of bleachers around us. We couldn't shut up about how excited we were.
My friend Effie (she was so short, even then, her voice was like a whistle. I was surprised she wasn't in fifth grade) dragged me by the hand to a meet a friend from a nearby middle school.
"He's so cute!" she said. "Oh my gosh, you have to talk to him with me."
And then I met him.
He was a 7th grader. He was white, with slightly wavy black hair, brown eyes and about my height, if not a bit shorter.
And I wasn't impressed.
"Hey, Bobby!" Effie squeaked. God, how was her voice so goddamn high? "Are you excited?"
He shrugged. He was always so chill about everything, even then. "I guess. I mean, it's the next six hours playing sheet music."
I found that this was exactly true. And it sucked.
He looked at me. "What's your name?"
I was pleasant enough, even though I was too occupied looking at the cute white-Asian guy next to him (his name was John, and he became one of my closest friends to this day).
I looked back to him only half-interested. "Whitney, I play tenor sax."
He smiled. "Bobby, and I prefer alto."
If only I knew how many times we would argue over this. I would've saved myself the trouble of this next fight.
"Please. Tenor is the symbol of the sax family. Alto is just the runner up."
"At least alto doesn't sound so boring. Why do you think altos get the solos? Because everyone likes them more."
Effie laughed. I scowled. He grinned.
Then the conductor called us to our seats to start before I could retaliate.
And then began the longest six hours of my life. Perfecting seven pieces in one day? Hell in a ballroom.
I didn't know your cheeks could cramp until that very day.
I could've lived a happy life not knowing that.
We got out for lunch, and everyone tended to drift to sit with the people they came with.
So much for diversity.
But I couldn't help but notice Bobby.
He sat with the Bitburg kids. They were our middle school's - Spangdahlem Middle School - 'rival'.
I personally never gave a s**t about school rivalries.
"God, I wish Bobby went to Spang!" Effie sighed.
"He seems pretty cool," Caleb said. "He's kind of short though."
I smiled at that.
I glanced over at his table, and he caught my eye.
S**t.
I looked away and pretended it never happened. Brilliant, Whitney. I was now that awkward girl.
I made sure not to look at him for the rest of the band practice. It was my only focus. Playing good music came second.
Then I stopped and had a horrible epiphany. Why did I care so much if he saw me looking?
Oh good God.
Because I knew I liked him.
I glanced at him again, and he turned to look at me.
I turned back quickly. How the hell did he know when I look at him?
F*****g ninja.
Finally after the mind-numbing long performance, we all returned to the bus at about seven at night.
It was still two hours from home.
We were all wide awake. The Spang kids and the Bitburg kids were the last of the bus, so after the kids from Ramstien got off, we basically tore s**t up.
We blasted music, we we hopping seats and standing. We were basically being those douchy middle schoolers everyone knows and disdains.
I was too nervous to talk to him again. He had that affect on me. We always met eyes, but we always looked away.
I would do anything to see those eyes again.
As I got off the bus at nine; my friends chattering loud around me, I looked up at the window.
And he looked down at me.
And I got the hell out of there.
And I didn't see him for until freshman year.
If only I knew much this kid would turn my life upside-down.