High School Concert Narrative

The air was thick with screaming kids and a loud candance in front of us. Humidity and heat where upsetting factors. The stadium was fuller than normal because it was a special night. It was special for me too, for I was trying something new. Ready to step off, the high school advances, then middle school, and finally it's our turn. The elementary band has never been known for being able to march like the others, and that was proven correct today. We started in straight lines, pleasant to the eye. But with every step we took, they got worse and worse. With sweat forming, I looked ahead. Turning my head to the sound of the drums being struck, I see a group of kids much older than me wearing black and white. They looked so uniform and prepared for what the day had to bring. Understanding how to walk in lines and step in time was what I noticed first. I wanted to be apart of that group. I couldn't handle being with so many people who had no idea what they were doing. Just one more year and I knew I would sound,

Sharp lines built into a uniform. Orange and black caught my eyes, dragging them wherever they went. Their cadence pierced the air even more than the others. So precise and strong, they were a group not to mess with. They did not shift their rows. I could see right through them in every line. Each foot making contact with the pavement at the very same time. The low steady beat of the bass drums, to the varying tones on the tenors. Complimenting it all, were the unimaginably precise patterns and tricks of the snare drums. Every beat was heard and followed by the entire band. It seemed as if they were under the curse of the drumline, doing what the beat told them. Something like that seemed so possible for us, and so far away. Time was the issue. The time that I would have to wait until I could finally have what they did. A group of seeming perfection. A family and a constant good