The lights burned into my wide open eyes as I placed my left foot down on the field for the first time - in the wrong spot. I wouldn't know how wrong I'd placed myself till afterwards when I saw pictures, but that night as I marched onto the field, nothing had ever felt so right.
I'd fit in with all of them from day one of camp. It was the second day or so of August, a Monday, sweltering hot outside, and no one really wanted to be there except for one guy. Everyone called him Duplet, which is actually a musical term for three or more notes played in the space it takes to play two. Rightly earning his name by talking faster than every other girl, Duplet was more perky and energetic then anyone I met, and was by far the best musician and marcher in the band. I hadn't thought marching band camp would be much fun, but after meeting Duplet, it seemed all right. Alex was his real name, and he showed me the ropes of marching band. He taught me how to march, how to turn, go backwards, snap to attention and hold my trumpet at just the right angle. He told me everything not to do so I wouldn't anger our director, and he introduced me to people who later became my closest friends.
A complete stranger open my eyes to a whole new world of music and fellowship with people who had the same passions as I did. I'd been home schooled until that day, and ever since then, I've had more friends than I can count, and more new talents that I can list. After months of grueling marching band practices, getting into trouble countless times because I was so naive and eager to impress everyone, I finally started proving my worth. In the end it was worth it all, and I had a lot of fun going through all those trials. Every practice I would mess up, but then the next time I would do better. I kept going and tried my hardest to be like Duplet, and when I was just as good as he was, we performed for our first time.
The first step I took was just a baby step into my career in marching band. It was an incorrect step and it threw off part of the formation in our show, but I continued marching, fixed my mistake, and did a good job of it. After it was all over and Duplet came by and told me I had done a good job, I felt accomplished. It felt so good in fact, I tried harder and harder till I couldn't push myself any further. That was when Alex started calling me his friend, when our director started to notice me, when I came out of my shell and flowered as who I was, but most importantly, it was when my work as a marching Raider didn't become practice, but perfect practice.
