It was six o'clock and I had just awoken with a great fear. Today was the day I would audition for the Southeast District band, which was made up of the best musicians in southeastern Massachusetts. I remember it so well, then again how could I forget.

It was now about six forty-five and I was on my way to Brockton High to get on the bus that would take us to the audition at King Phillip High in Wrentham. When I arrived at B.H.S, I was the first one there and it was here I realized that today was the day I would try out for something I had been working toward for so long. Gradually people started arriving and everyone had the same lonely, solemn look on their faces, as if all had just realized what I myself realized. It was a very strange atmosphere, even though all my friends were there, we didn't say a word to each other. I guess the situation was affecting us all.

At seven the bus arrived. There wasn't the usual rush to get the best seat, instead everyone straggled behind and walked on the bus, taking the first available seat, good or bad. When the last person was on, the doors closed and we were trapped; no matter how nervous or scared we were, there would be no turning back now.

The bus ride was like no other I've ever encountered. There was no talking, yelling, singing, jumping around or throwing things. There was just the quiet hum of the road passing by and forty nervous music students with high hopes and great intentions. Everyone was looking at their piece intently as if looking for mistakes. By the end I had memorized mine, not purposefully, but after looking at something that long, you tend not to forget. We arrived at King Phillip High and instead of being happy the ride was over, everyone become a little more petrified knowing the audition was that much closer. When the doors opened, there was a lot of stalling and unwillingness to leave the bus that had given us all security for the past forty-five minutes.

In time everyone got off the bus and headed for the school. Walking in the doors felt like we were walking into a morgue. There were at least two hundred people there and you could still hear a pin drop. We went through registration and found out where we had to audition. All the types of instruments were split up and we began the final walk. It was like everything else that day - long, nerve-wracking and quiet.

When we arrived at the room where we would try out, everyone began arguing about who would go first. I don't know what I was thinking but something inside me made me decide to go first. The door opened and a man with a beard and a mustache poked his head out and said, "All right, who wants to get it over with first?" And at that point I felt a little relieved. This man actually knew what I was going through. I walked inside and the man told me to relax and do what I was asked. I played three scales, my audition piece and left the room, allowing fellow trumpet players to relieve themselves of the fear and nervousness that had been building up all day. The next day I found out that I had made it and couldn't even imagine how nervous I had been. l