Experience In High School

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“Give it back!” I shouted, reaching for my stolen baseball cap. The hat, one of my old baseball team, was swinging from its adjustable strap within the clutches of an upperclassman. That upperclassman, a leader of my section for marching band, was my older brother, Eric. This was my first taste of it. The taste of independence as well as high school. Tasting bittersweet, almost like a banana not quite ripe enough. Not everyone was going to mistreat me the same as my brother, but I knew high school, the first step to the rest of my life, wasn’t going to be as smooth as anything in junior high. Starting my high school career before most others was a bit exhausting. It wasn’t with the first ring of the bell or even the first day of school. My high school career started out on the spare football field just outside of the school building, weeks before any teacher thought about preparing their class. The weather was pleasant and calm. The sun’s heat on my neck and shoulders, the refreshing breeze blowing on us at just the right times to cool us down. The smell of the grass is one that I’m used to and yet is still invigorating to me everyday. Cool wind blows between my fingers as I lightly press the keys of my saxophone to change the airflow through the horn, making different notes while I quickly snap my legs to the left. The reed on my mouthpiece vibrates between my lips. The sounds of all the instruments joining together into a song soothes me, even with its blaring and

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