Journal of a Cymbal Player- Freshman Year
By Giselle Lumas
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2010 Giselle Lumas
All rights reserved.
ISBN 10: 0-9817934-4-0
ISBN 13: 978-0-9817934-4-3
Giselle Lumas
Fiction
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Visit the author’s website at:
Dedication
Although this series is a work of fiction, it was inspired by time spent and served with the Simi Valley High School Marching Band and Drum Line during the years of 1985-1988. With that said, I would like to dedicate this book series to the Simi Valley High School Marching Band and Drum Line from 1985-1988. I would also like to thank Veda and Tricey who talked me into joining in the first place.
Monday- September 17, 1984
Dear Journal,
My English teacher, Mrs. Lovegood, is forcing the entire class to start keeping a journal. She wants us to write for the first eight minutes of class and an entry has to be at least five sentences. What can I possibly write in eight minutes? Geesh, it’s only been a couple of seconds and already my mind is a blank. Well, it’s been a pretty crappy two weeks. My sister and I thought our cousin Raquel would be able to stay with us forever but my parents said they couldn’t get in touch with her father to have papers signed so that they could have guardianship of her. I think they are lying. That seems to be what grown ups do… lie.
But while she was here she had talked me into signing up for the marching band with her. I agreed to it when she told me I wouldn’t have to take regular PE because marching band counts as physical education.
Raquel described the bands from New Orleans who are super cool! They dance as they play music. That isn’t the case here in Simi Valley, California. We have to roll our feet and lift our legs in synchronization while the rest of our bodies are perfectly still while walking/marching. It wouldn’t be so bad if I were playing a super cool instrument like a saxophone or a mellow one like the flute. Instead, I’m playing the cymbals. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m five four, a hundred fifteen pounds and I have to carry the super enormous cymbals because Doug my dorky cymbal buddy won’t carry them. They are about thirty pounds. They must be! I’m not exaggerating.
Well, Raquel is back in New Orleans and now I’m still stuck in Simi Valley, California alone. I thought things were going to be different this year. I thought I would be able to meet people and talk to people. But… nope. I’m still as quiet as ever. My brain still shuts down when people try to talk to me. What is up with that anyway? It’s not like I’m retarded or anything. Geesh.
Well, my teacher says we will learn to express ourselves more in our writing and will eventually unconsciously or subconsciously or whatever gain control over our writing. Like I care. What time is it now anyway? 1:06… okay, two minutes left. Hmmm….
Why does the school have our classes on rotating schedules??? It’s really lame. Like today I had Math as my first class but tomorrow Art will be my first class, then the following day Science…it’s never the same every day. If I get sick for more than a week I won’t remember where I am supposed to go. Someone said it was to break the monotony and to peak our interest.
Well, Mrs. Lovegood says to wrap it up now. So… I’m wrapping it up. Bye.
Tuesday- September 18, 1984
Yippie, I’m back. I’m cranky because I’m soaking wet and got mud all over my new purple high tops. They were cute but now they are just blah. Then the buckle on my belt broke so I was forced to take the belt off and now my shirt is just hanging down. I look lame. My hair turned into a frizzy pile of wanna-be-afro from the seventies. Stupid Jake who sits behind me keeps ripping shreds of paper and turning them into spit balls and shooting them at me with a straw he smuggled into the classroom. To think I used to stick up for him in elementary school! Now just because he’s on the football team and over six feet tall he thinks he’s the god of our class. He’s just a jerk!
This girl next to me just used her journal to smack Jake on the back of his head. She said, “Knock it off jock.”
Jake looked at her through narrowed eyes and said, “Mind your own business.”
“This is my business. No one wants your saliva invested paper balls spraying all over the class room. Plus my uncle cleans up this place. He doesn’t need your juvenile trash.”
Jake laughed, “Your uncle is the janitor?”
The girl balled up her fist and clenched her teeth. “Dude, you better not say any of your stupid jokes. He’s a great man. Way better than you ever will be.” She mumbled more but it was in Spanish and I couldn’t understand her.
This actually made Jake shut up.
She shook my hand and told me her name is Jessica Rodriguez but people call her Jesse for short. I’m not positive but I think she is in band. She looks familiar. There are over fifty kids in the marching band so sometimes it seems nothing but a blur of faces. I’ll have to ask her after class.
Well, because I play the cymbals I’m automatically part of the percussion team, drum squad, drum line… whatever name they call themselves at the time. I’m one of the only two girls on the line. The only other girl plays the dainty tiny half pound cymbals and she’s the girlfriend of the drum section leader. Her name is Lily. She has auburn hair, hazel eyes and braces. She’s spoiled. I wish she would just drop out of the band entirely. She doesn’t even play the cymbals. She just pretends to play. Like, how in the world can you pretend to play the cymbals anyway?
Contrary to what most people believe, you don’t just smash the cymbals together. There are several techniques. The first is while you are moving one of the cymbals upward with one hand you move the other one down. It creates an awesome sound. Then there is what the music director, Mr. Stevens, likes to call a choke or crunch. I have to hold the cymbals sideways while one side of the cymbal is still touching, I have to lift the other side up and then back down… it’s kind of like a mouth opening and closing and it makes a cool crunching sound. Then other times I have to stand or sometimes kneel in front of the snare drum players and hold the cymbals up so that they can hammer their drumsticks on them.
My arms are still sore from yesterdays practice. I just found out this morning that we have practice every Thursday night at 7:30. Yippie. Me with a spoiled girl and twelve overly hormonal boys who like to think they are men. Yeah, right.
Wow, times up already. Write more tomorrow.
Wednesday- September 19, 1984
Okay, I’m going to do something to Jake. I don’t know what yet but I’m going to do something. As I was leaving class yesterday he pushed me into a puddle of mud only to make my high tops drip more and my feet ended up being soggy. It felt as if I were walking around with play dough in my shoes the rest of the day. He’s been quiet so far today. Hmmm…. Actually… he looks a little sad today. I wonder if he’s okay.
Anyway, as it turns out Jesse plays the saxophone. She said sometimes she plays the piano too for jazz class. She told me that we have a parade coming up next weekend and wanted to know if I’d sit with her on the bus. I guess it will be ok. I’ve never gone on the bus with the band before so we’ll see.
My sister is picking me up today from school. My dad is letting her drive the car with the condition that on the days she drives it she has to pick me up. Which is cool for me because then I won’t have to take the city bus. There is a crazy lady on the bus everyday who wears a big oversized dress with a pink flower in her hair. I don’t think she ever takes a shower and I think she may be going to the bathroom on herself. She talks to herself all of the time and yells at the driver out of the blue. She scares me.
I’m still trying to get mentally prepared for the drum line practice that will be tomorrow night. We are supposed to meet at seven thirty.
Thursday- September 20, 1984
I’m journaling. I’m journaling. I’m journaling. I’m journaling. There I now have five sentences.
Friday- September 21, 1984
Jesse said she thinks Jake’s girlfriend broke up with him. She was probably tired of his immature ways. That’s why he’s been moping around. Maybe he’ll stop harassing me now.
Mrs. Lovegood said she will be passing out the book Lord of the Flies. Why would anyone want to be Lord of the Flies?? Gross.
Oh! I have to write about the drum line practice. We did our warm ups, practiced and took a break. It was break time that hurt. Seriously. The guys decided to play mud football on the quad when the sprinklers came on. I originally planned to stay on the dry sidewalk and watch them but they said I’m one of the guys so shoved me right smack in the middle of game. I don’t even like football! Tommy (the section leader of the drum squad) shoved the ball in my hand and told me to run. I didn’t even know where I was running to but when twelve guys start running after you, your flight instincts kick in. I ran away screaming with my mouth wide open. Water was spraying everywhere and then of course I tripped! Once that happened I was pretty much doomed. All twelve of the guys jumped on me. Yes, I was literally at the bottom of a dog pile.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. They were laughing when they got up. I was the most muddied out of the bunch. I had to stand out in the hall of the band room while everyone else went back in to practice.
When my sister picked me up, she treated me as I was her daughter, asking me why I would play mud football with a bunch of boys. She told me there was no possible way I would get into my father’s car. After I explained how I didn’t have a choice but to play she parked the car, got out, and then ran after Tommy. The two stood in the parking lot arguing for ten or fifteen minutes. My sister yelled, “Tommy, you are supposed to be the mature, smart one out of the bunch. Why would you do this to my sister? You know how strict my dad is! She can’t get into the car like this! What were you thinking??”
They exchanged more words. My sister just happened to have a duffle bag with dry sweats she intended to use at the gym. She tossed them to me and I changed in the bathroom.
Tommy and my sister have a past. When she went to school here he was only a year behind her. Tommy openly had a crush on her but my sister would never give him a chance.
Ah man, times up. Gotta go.
Monday- September 24, 1984
Happy, happy, joy, joy. It’s Monday. This isn’t five sentences yet. Why not? There, now it is.
Tuesday- September 25, 1984
Jake tried to trip Jesse when she was walking into the class today. She punched him in the arm. He’s still rubbing it. Jesse wants to hang out at lunch time and plan out what we should bring for the parade this weekend. I’m trying to figure out why we would need to plan. From my understanding we take the bus, grab our instruments, go march for a couple of miles, get on the bus and go home. What’s to plan?
Wednesday- Sept 26, 1984
Something strange in the neighborhood… who you gonna call?? Ghostbusters…. Do, dodo, do, do, dodo… I ain’t afraid of no ghosts! I love the Ghostbuster movie! I love Dan Ackroyd and Bill Murray!! We were talking about the movie in science class. My science teacher said he will give anyone extra credit if they can re-create the slime that was used in the movie. I can surely use extra credit. I’m going start thinking of how the slime was possibly made.
Thursday- Sept. 27, 1984
Can I sue a fellow fourteen year old for offensive remarks? I was sitting on a stool and minding my own business in the band room when one of the bass drum players said out of no where, “Hey we can play racquetball on Jackie’s chest because she’s so flat.” What did I ever do to him? I know I’m flat chested but it doesn’t mean I want it broadcasted all over the band room. Geez, then one of the girls from the drill team snickered at me. It had to be one of the big breasted, curvy, long blond hair girls too.
Just great, now my eyes are tearing up? That’s all I need to do is cry in the middle of English class right next to Mr. Jake the awesome football hero.
I’m sniffling and can feel my nose about to drip. How can I possibly get up and grab one of Mrs. Lovegood’s tissues from her desk with out making everyone else see me? Oy! Not to mention my lips are getting swollen and my face is probably splotchy.
I can’t even see the paper I’m writing on now. Geeeeezzzzz.
Oh, phew. Jesse just tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a little packet of tissues from her backpack. She told me, “Jacks, let go of what happened in the band room, okay? Everyone else has already moved on.”
It’s funny. Sometimes I think all the guys on the drum line would protect me in a heartbeat if something catastrophic was about to happen to me or if someone was trying to hurt me. But other times, I feel like I would be like Piggy from Lord of the Flies and they’d just toss me over a cliff.
Friday- Sept. 28, 1984
One of the guys brought a racquetball and racquet to drum practice last night and aimed the ball at me. Surprisingly Tommy stood up for me. He made all of the boys on the line run two laps around the track before we practiced while Lily and I watched from the stands. Lily was pretty cool last night. She told me to be grateful I haven’t gone through the change yet. She made a few funny jokes too.
My mom says she is going to take me to the doctor when I’m sixteen if I don’t start my monthly cycle by then. So I have a year and a half left to go. Do you know how hard it is to be the only girl in high school who doesn’t have a woman’s body? Then to be surrounded by hormonal boys constantly???
Monday- October 1, 1984
The parade was in Santa Barbara and it was a thousand mile hike up a really long steep mountain. It took us forever to get there by bus. Oh, I tried to sit in the second seat close to the bus driver with Jesse but as soon as I sat down Tommy grabbed my arm and pulled me to the back of the bus. He said, “The line stays together on the bus and off. It’s the law.”
Jesse grabbed my left arm and tried to pull me back. “It’s not the law. Jacks sit back down.”
Tommy glared at her. “Do you really want to challenge me?” I looked up at Tommy and felt something stir inside me that I never felt before. I felt giddy or I don’t know… it was this weird feeling. His cocoa skin and hazel eyes with the thick lashes and the scowl on his face… and those dimples… just so… mmm. Wait. What did I just write?? Oh crap. I shouldn’t write this down, not here. What am I thinking??
Anyway, Jesse gave up and I grabbed all of my stuff and went to the back of the bus. I left my Fig Newton’s with Jesse and she gave me some of her Oreo’s.
Tommy asked me to start shining the cymbals. I thought he was joking but he said, “Seriously, you need to buff and shine them. You don’t want to be the reason for docked points. Do you?” Apparently we can have points deducted during the competition if our instruments are dirty. I still don’t remember him telling me that. Anyway, he said he saw that the cymbals were a mess so he carried them onto the bus. He passed them to me along with a bottle of brass polish and a rag and told me to get to work. So there I was polishing cymbals while twelve boys competed for the smelliest farts and the loudest burp. Needless to say I was nauseous during the entire journey to Santa Barbara.
We didn’t even place third in the competition. Our music director said not to worry or obsess over our pathetic loss because it was only the beginning of the season and he now knew what we need to work on.
Tuesday- October 2, 1984
It feels like October in Simi Valley, Ca. It never fails… the Santa Ana winds blow like crazy. It’s always a hot dry wind and we seem to always get the really bad brush fires during this month. The drummers want to go trick or treating on Halloween. I was surprised. I would have thought they would view themselves as too mature for such a childish festivity. On second thought… of course they would want to go. Duh!
Jesse wants me to spend the night on Friday at her house. I asked my mom this morning and she said it was okay. Jesse also invited another girl from band too. It should be interesting. It’s my first official sleep over in high school. I wonder if it will be any different than the ones I had in junior high.
Wednesday- October 3, 1984
Well, crap, I failed my math test. My mom is going to hurt me! Crap. Crap. Crap!
Thursday- October 4, 1984
I’m grounded. I can’t go to Jesse’s this weekend until I bring home at least a “C” on my next math test. This bites!!
Crap! Drum line practice tonight. Brace myself. What joys await for me tonight? Argh… argghh! That’s five sentences… right? Yep.
Friday- October 5, 1984
After practice last night the guys decided we should all go to Carl’s Jr. for burgers, fries and shakes. They decided to have a spit wad war right smack in the middle of the restaurant. A bunch of adults gave us dirty looks. Several people got up to leave. I tried to move to a different table way on the other side of the restaurant and thought about calling my mom to pick me up but the guys followed me wherever I went. Finally the manager kicked us out. I’m not sure I can ever really show my face there ever again.
Now that I think about it, I don’t think I was supposed to go to Carl’s Jr. since I’m supposed to be grounded.
Monday- October 8, 1984
Jesse won’t talk to me. She doesn’t believe I was grounded. She thinks I just didn’t want to go to her house. The whole marching band heard about the drummers take over of Carl’s Jr. The music director is threatening to suspend a few of the guys from the drum line. There is a rumor that the manager of the restaurant called the school principle and singled out the guys that were the most obnoxious.
Tuesday- October 9, 1984
We have a field show next weekend in Buena Vista. This is where we march around a football field and make designs on the field using our own bodies while playing music. I have to wonder… who in the world thought up such an idea??
We have extra practice everyday for the rest of the week. The director talked to the parents of the drummers and as long as the boys remain quiet during the entire trip to and from the competition this weekend they won’t be suspended. All of the boys are pouting. Lily and I are smiling.
Wednesday- October 10, 1984
My mom is forcing me to go to an orthodontist after school today. She’s picking me up and taking me. It’s my body but I don’t have a say in the matter until I’m eighteen. I feel like she reminds me that I’m completely under her control on a daily basis. I even talked to Dad but he won’t budge either. He always says, “Whatever your mom wants, your mom gets, stop whining.” I haven’t whined since I was three!
Thursday- October 11, 1984
The orthodontist took x-rays of my head and mouth yesterday. My mom said that I will probably get the braces on in approximately two weeks. I won’t be able to eat corn on the cob, popcorn, sticky candy or chew bubble gum. I won’t be able to drink soda. I told my mom I don’t mind the gap between my two front teeth. I told her we were supposed to be Catholic and shouldn’t we accept our bodies the way in which God created it. She told me to stop being dramatic and deal with it and God helps those who help themselves. She said I should be grateful that I have the ability to get braces because she didn’t have the option when she was little. This lead to the full blown speech: I need to count my blessings and be grateful that we live in a nice neighborhood and attend a good school.
I am grateful, really I am. I just wish I could have some sort of control over what happens directly to me and my body.
Friday- October 12, 1984
The drummers want to hang out tonight. One of the boys parents is out of town and wanted the group to come over. I told them I wouldn’t be able to go. They all looked genuinely disappointed. Lily refused to join them as well. She is forcing Tommy to take her to a dinner and movie alone instead.
Monday- October 15, 1984
Mrs. Lovegood asked to see our journals today. She promised that she wouldn’t read a single word but flipped through the pages to ensure that we were writing something tangible for each day of the school week. I have to wonder though if she ever wants to stop and take a sneak peek at an entry. I would. I wonder what Jake write’s about. Football can’t be the only thing on his mind, can it? I remember in elementary school he had such a fascination with bugs. He used to carry a jar of beetles around him until the teacher sent a note home to his mom. Then he used to bring a different match box car to school everyday and show me. We used to go over each others house and play soccer in each other’s back yard. Then things just changed in junior high. He started to care too much about appearances and what other people thought.
Tuesday- October 16, 1984
I still haven’t figured out how to make the slime from Ghostbusters. I’ll have to ask the instructor when the due date is. Did I mention that Jesse is finally talking to me again? She said she is going to talk to Tommy about me sitting next to her on the bus on the way to the Buena Vista competition. I told her he won’t go for it. He wants the drummers to stay together. She said, “But Jacks, you aren’t even a real drummer. You’re a cymbal player for crying out loud! Why do you have to sit by them?”
Of course I couldn’t think of any explanation. She was right when you really sit there for a minute and think about it. I wasn’t a real drummer. I never even held drum sticks in my hand. I knew that some part of me should be angry with Jesse for the way she had talked to me… or rather how she talked down to me but I wasn’t. How can you argue with honesty?
Wednesday- October 17, 1984
My cousin Raquel called me last night. She might be coming out for Christmas vacation and stay with us for the two weeks she is out. I hope so. That will be so much fun! She said she will know more in a couple of weeks.
Thursday- October 18, 1984
Mr. Reynolds, my science teacher said he will give me until the end of the school year in June to come up with the slime. I think I can get some of the guys to help me. They are experimental.
Friday- October 19, 1984
Tommy announced we get to wear our buckskin uniforms for the field show. That is one of the cool things about being on the drum line. As a Simi Valley Pioneer we wear moccasins, buckskins and raccoon hats. Only the drummers wear them. The rest of the band has to wear traditional band uniforms that are itchy and stuffy. We will look like a bunch of Davy Crockets.
At practice, Tommy pulled me aside from the rest of the group during break. He had has arms crossed and was still holding his drum sticks. I couldn’t help but notice his arms were flexing as he started talking to me and he was moving from side to side. “Jack, don’t you feel a part of the crew?”
“Um, yeah,” I said.
“Then why don’t you want to sit with us on the back of the bus.”
“I…”
He wouldn’t let me even begin to answer his question.
“It’s all about being a team player… and team morale. Being on the drum line is different from any other part of the band. We stand out. We have our own separate competitions outside of the field shows and parades Jack. If you are a cymbal player, you are on the line. You have to sit with us and be with us… breathe with us.”
I might have rolled my eyes at him on accident and with out realizing it because Tommy clenched his jaw and I thought I saw a vein pop out of his forehead. “You’re not like your sister at all, are you?”
I know I frowned at that. “No, I’m not.”
Tommy shook his head and walked away. He hasn’t talked to me since. What was that all about? I think the only reason he seems to look out for me is because he still has the stupid crush on my sister. He doesn’t see me for who I am at all. Of course if he did he’d only see a little fourteen year old girl whose flat chested, frizzy hair and a big gap between her teeth.
Arrggghh.
Monday- October 22, 1984
It’s safe to say that the entire marching band hates me. I completely understand though. There was a part in the field show that I was supposed to stop in front of the snare drum players and kneel in front of them so they could play on the cymbals. Well, I tripped from a loose string on my moccasins. Hit my head on the bass drum, somehow did a complete flip in the air and landed on my back. The wind got knocked out of me and my raccoon hat landed on top of a snare drum. It seemed the whole show stopped and all eyes were on me. Humiliating… absolutely humiliating. At least the cymbals managed to stay clean through the whole ordeal.
Tuesday- October 23, 1984
Jake just asked me if I knew whether or not Jesse has a boyfriend or not. I tried to stare at him as long as I could to see if he would flinch or give me some sign as to whether his question was for sincere reasons or for gossip. I couldn’t tell which. Once upon a time I would have been able to tell what Jake’s intentions were but I no longer knew. So I went for honesty, “Jake, I’m honestly not sure. She doesn’t really talk about her personal-personal life.”
“Then what do you two talk about? Don’t you hang out with her?”
“Every once in a while but it’s not like she’s my best friend or anything. The only thing we have in common is that we are both on the school band.”
Jake shook his head as if he didn’t believe me. “Jackie, just tell me if she ever talks about me, mentions me… anything?”