One Night Only
I see a red door and I want it painted black;
The marching band played as the color guard’s flags flew into the air. Robert E. Lee High band actually sounded good as they rehearsed next year’s marching music. I caught my flag just as the band director’s door opened and a large, red faced man stepped out.
“Kyle, Jude, Sam, Dominic! Get in my office now!” Mr. Brome, the band director screamed.
Jerking around to face my bad director’s angry red face I heard snickers from all around me. It’s never a good thing when you get called into the office.
I threw my flag down and jogged to catch up with Sam Baker and Jude Lanegan-Quackenboss, two of my three best friends.
Dominic Oakley, the other twenty-five percent of our one-hundred had already made it into the office.
“Get in,” Mr. Brome snarled, slamming to door behind us.
Dominic grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to the wall, Jude and Sam following our lead. Cowering beside the wall we waited for the yelling to start. My arm ached from where Dominic’s fingernails had me, but I didn’t move.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Mr. Brome asked his face a mask of nothingness, something unusual for the naturally angry man. We all shook our head 'no' and cowered closer together.
“This,” he said, pulling a large manila folder from his desk and slamming it down, “is why you are here. Inside this folder is a set of papers from Inside Out Recording Studio. Have any of you ever heard of them?”
We all shook our heads in the negetive.
“Well, Mr. Brome started, “they have a bi-yearly battle of the bands and to enter you have to submit a video. Do you remember three weeks ago, before our concert, when you guys were jamming out up here?”
I tried to remember the night but my head came up empty. I was the only one to shake my head 'no'.
“Seriously, Kyle?” Mr. Brome said, looking at me like I was stupid. I nodded again and with a sigh he threw the manila folder at Jude, who ripped the seal off and pulled a letter out. Reading it fast he started doing a little jig; he passed the letter to Dominic. She didn’t even read it, just passed it over to me, her face about to split in half because of her smile.
Sam leaned over my shoulder, his long hair getting in the way. My eyes scanned the paper, a lump forming in my stomach with every word.
Dear band,
Congratulations! You’ve been accepted to join One Night Only, the only interstate battle of the bands in the country. You will compete against 19 other unsigned bands of varying ages and musical genres for fantastic prizes including a signing with Inside Out Records!
Also in this packet is a list of requirements, dates, a form saying you will be performing and forms for your parents if you are a minor. Please be at each city on the correct date or be prepared to forfeit your spot in the competition. You must have your own transportation and muscial equipment minus amps, microphones and the like provided by each House of Blues.
Good-luck!
Inside Out Recording
“Kyle, Jude, Sam, Dominic! Get in my office now!” Mr. Brome, the band director screamed.
Jerking around to face my bad director’s angry red face I heard snickers from all around me. It’s never a good thing when you get called into the office.
I threw my flag down and jogged to catch up with Sam Baker and Jude Lanegan-Quackenboss, two of my three best friends.
Dominic Oakley, the other twenty-five percent of our one-hundred had already made it into the office.
“Get in,” Mr. Brome snarled, slamming to door behind us.
Dominic grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to the wall, Jude and Sam following our lead. Cowering beside the wall we waited for the yelling to start. My arm ached from where Dominic’s fingernails had me, but I didn’t move.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Mr. Brome asked his face a mask of nothingness, something unusual for the naturally angry man. We all shook our head 'no' and cowered closer together.
“This,” he said, pulling a large manila folder from his desk and slamming it down, “is why you are here. Inside this folder is a set of papers from Inside Out Recording Studio. Have any of you ever heard of them?”
We all shook our heads in the negetive.
“Well, Mr. Brome started, “they have a bi-yearly battle of the bands and to enter you have to submit a video. Do you remember three weeks ago, before our concert, when you guys were jamming out up here?”
I tried to remember the night but my head came up empty. I was the only one to shake my head 'no'.
“Seriously, Kyle?” Mr. Brome said, looking at me like I was stupid. I nodded again and with a sigh he threw the manila folder at Jude, who ripped the seal off and pulled a letter out. Reading it fast he started doing a little jig; he passed the letter to Dominic. She didn’t even read it, just passed it over to me, her face about to split in half because of her smile.
Sam leaned over my shoulder, his long hair getting in the way. My eyes scanned the paper, a lump forming in my stomach with every word.
Dear band,
Congratulations! You’ve been accepted to join One Night Only, the only interstate battle of the bands in the country. You will compete against 19 other unsigned bands of varying ages and musical genres for fantastic prizes including a signing with Inside Out Records!
Also in this packet is a list of requirements, dates, a form saying you will be performing and forms for your parents if you are a minor. Please be at each city on the correct date or be prepared to forfeit your spot in the competition. You must have your own transportation and muscial equipment minus amps, microphones and the like provided by each House of Blues.
Good-luck!
Inside Out Recording
♠ ♠ ♠
Stupid Subway commercial.