Read A Fine Line for Free Online Page B

a pleasant, normal teenager.
    “Hi there, Mr. and Mrs. Flueger!”
    Mrs. Flueger extended a hand, “Hello, Lucy. How are you? Bronwyn said you were feeling under the weather this week.”
    “Thanks for asking, but I feel much better now. B, you ready to go? We don’t want to be late for your first game.”
    Bronwyn nodded as she gathered her garment bag. Her parents smiled as they looked at the picture of the model band student in their daughter, who was dressed in carefully pressed khaki shorts, a clean band shirt, and was already wearing her black shoes and socks. Lucy, the alleged marching band officer, looked the total opposite in her cotton shorts, tank top and flip flops. Bronwyn wondered if there was some secret uniform change that she didn’t know about and mentally started freaking out. She managed to sputter, “Bye Mom and Dad!”
    “Nice meeting you!”
    Bronwyn carefully hung her uniform in the backseat of Lucy’s car and got in the passenger side. The freshman smiled as she heard Lucy muttering to herself, “Stupid jock.”
    Wardrobe questions to the side for a moment, Bronwyn was curious about which ‘jock’ Lucy could be referring to. However, at the last minute she chickened out and asked politely, “Did you have a nice day off?”
    Unfortunately, it seemed that was all the ammunition Lucy needed to launch into a tirade about her day, “He is such a JERK! So, I’m all asleep or whatever and then I wake up and who is in my room? The crazy British transfer!” Lucy faked a snooty British accent, “Hi, I’m Wesley Mallinson the Third; it is a pleasure to meet you.”
    Bronwyn giggled, “Did he actually say that?”
    Lucy punched the radio presets on her car and continued her tirade, “No, but he somehow managed to talk my brother into letting him in the house and in my room to ‘bring me my homework.’ Finally, I get him the hell out of there, and as he’s leaving he actually backs directly in to my mailbox! Then my mom shows up! Then, they talk and do you know what my mom decides to do?!”
    The freshman redhead was almost afraid to ask, but questioned, “What?”
    “She decides the best idea will be to have him work off the damages by doing yard work AT MY HOUSE! I can’t escape him! He’s like a disease!”
    Bronwyn looked shocked at the outburst. Lucy glanced at her passenger and felt terrible, “Bronwyn, please forgive me. I’m not sure if it’s the Benadryl talking or just my overall rage towards Wes, but I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. I mean, we should be talking about you – it’s your first game and you must be totally excited!”
    Bronwyn nodded, “I really am.”
    “Do you feel ready?”
    “I think so.”
    “You’ll do fine.”
    With that, two-thirds of the female force on the Forrest Hills drumline arrived at the school. Bronwyn walked into the band room, eyes wide. Lucy looked over and saw things through Bronwyn’s eyes: uniforms, garment bags, sequins, secret pal gifts, glitter and instruments. The sound alone was deafening. Somehow, it made all the long hours of practice worth it. Bronwyn followed Lucy into the percussion room where things were a little different. The redheaded freshmen already loved the percussion room – it was like the VIP room in a club and she was always on the list.
    Tom grabbed Lucy and pulled her aside, winking at Bronwyn, “I have to borrow her for a few minutes.”
    The first march down the field of the season was always a blast. The band, proud at two-hundred fifty plus members strong marched in the following order: Drum majors, Auxiliaries, Woodwinds, Brass, and ended with the Line (snares, tenors, basses, cymbals, and Pit). In parades, sometimes they mixed it up with percussion in the middle, but on the march to the field, it was Line in the back. The percussionists had some new cadences they were trying out and Lucy forgot the rush of setting of multiple car alarms. It was even more exciting knowing that it was HER