"There's my buddy!" I grinned and set "The Beast" (My French Horn) against the wall of the chior room. "Hi Dylan!" I shrieked as he jumped over a chair and slid onto the floor until he stopped directly beside me. "So let's see what outfit you have for me today!" I smiled and stood up for him to see. "Ok. Slipknot nice." He placed his chin on hand as he gazed over me. "Nice skirt!! I love that! I totally want one just like it!" I couldn't help but grin with every word he said.1

When we first arrived at band camp, we all had to try out. Based on how well you did, they placed you in a certain level band. I did the worst of all the French Horns, so i was placed in band 7, 3rd chair. Dylan did the worst of all the percussionists, so he was placed in band 7, 4th chair percussionist, or whatever they say for percussionists. (I'm not really an expert.2

We always hang out in our rehersal room before it starts and for a while after it ends. We always start the day off with what I'm wearing. He finds it interesting that my taste in clothing is so bipolar. Yesterday, I wore a bright green t-shirt that had a picture of a chocolate chip cookie high-fiving a carton of milk that said teamwork above it along with an extremely short miniskirt. I was 10 mintues late though, so we didn't get to talk about it until after rehersal, but we dont have much time to talk then. Only as I'm puting away "The Beast."3

"Ok, now give me a twirl!" I chuckled and did a clumsly little spin, hitting my foot against my instrument's case. He caught ahold of my arm just before I hit the ground and set me up. "Ok, maybe that was a bad idea, but nice outfit! Love the gloves!! I'm totally stealing one!" He grabbed onto my left hand without warning and slowly slid my glove off, causing my heart to skip a few beats, and slid into his dark, caramel-colored hands.4

I'm not sure exactly what it is about Dylan that pulls me in. He's not really that cute, but oddly, I developed a gigantic crush on him the first time I saw him. He may be gay though. He just has that voice, the weird girly voice that automatically makes you think he's gay. And it could also be his obsession with my outfits.5

I got my French horn out of it's case and sat down in my normal spot. I spread it out across my lap and Dylan slid down into the seat beside me. "So what's the news for today?" He asked as he made himself comfortable, even though he'd have to move back to the percussion section as soon as the director, Mr. Palmer entered the room.6

"Well...I don't know!!! God! Why are you pressuring me?!?" I cried out as I curled myself into a little ball. Dylan laughed and brought his kness up in the chair with him. "Well, you don't seem to want to answer. I'll go then. Last night, some girl asked me to the camp dance. She was a little girl, about 12, I think. Either that, or she has that kidney disease that Gary Coleman had. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, so I said yes. Sorry."7

At first, I glanced down at my feet, upset that I missed my chance. Then something hit me. "Wait...Why are you apoligizing?"For a moment, he actually blushed. "W-w-well, I w-" Mr. Palmer cut him off with his usual random burst into the classroom. It was different everyday. I missed it yesterday though. Sunday, it was "Welcome to your first rehersal kids!" Monday, "Guess what guys! The world is ending today!" Today, however, it was, "Percussion! Stop flirting with French horn and go get to your section! Nice glove, by the way."8

I could see Dylan's blush deepen as he slowly tried to make his way to the back unnoticed, which of course failed. I'm not sure if I was blushing or not, but I could see people out of the corners of my eyes whispering to each other with their fingers either pointed at me or Dylan, so if I wasn't blushing before, I'm pretty sure I am now.9

"Let's start class on a good note today! I heard today that they've finally been able to create a car that runs on water!" He exclaimed. A few whoops aired around the room. "The bad thing is though," He continued. "They can only use water from the Gulf of Mexico." The class burst into laughter as he began to pass out our music folders.10

2nd chair French horn, a girl named Sarah, leaned over to me as Mr. Palmer made his way to the tubas and baritones. "So what's going on between you and drummer boy?" She asked. "I glanced over at Dylan, who caught me eyes and gave me a shy smile. I turned back to Sarah. "Nothing." I lied.11