Retracting my pen, I breathed deeply. I had marked a box, finally. I was going to play the clarinet.

My nine-year-old self never regretted that horrible year of reeds and cork, learning the clarinet. I would've never guess how much the pain was worth it.

Drum major? That was my only thought. I could have bet that it was just Danny, being a show-off to seventh grade version of me, as always. He said it again, knowing no one was listening. "I'm probably going to march clarinet, the drum major from El Camino says that will work."

Who was this person? I wanted to know immediately. Asking around, I gathered as much information as possible. This figure, apparently a girl named Stephanie, was a leader. She stood on some high place and conducted a marching band. I wanted to do something like that, it sounded cool. From what I could gather from youtube, I was sure it was what I wanted. I knew.

Being a freshman was scary, knowing I was again at the bottom of the social totem pole. The worst was yet to come, but I knew something when I saw her. The idol I needed, Jessica. A happy person, her white gloves fit her like Cinderella's glass slippers. All I wanted to do was be just like her. To make the band its best, to be an example. She was the best, in the sense that I would always set my standards equal to hers. This impression of her was all I could think of while I stood on the podium.

There was no scarier thing in that unique and singular moment. Stepping on the suddenly fragile podium, I could feel my knees begin to collapse. Conducting like a mad-man, I felt the eyes of every person on me. That was the best feeling a person could feel. To feel a love towards every person in the room, and to have each person's attention. All I could see was Jessica. I was wondering what she thought of me. What she thought I was doing wrong - or maybe even right - in this moment.

This moment is what I think of every time I am told "It won't happen," or "It's something only a senior does, if you'd even get it then." These are opinions, and I wish to be a fact. I wish to be the one they all watch, eyes like a hawk. The one the freshmen ask questions to. The one the sophomores laugh with. The one the juniors confide in. The one the seniors tease jokingly.