Last year around this time, my school was putting on a performance, an I had purposely not asked about whether they needed a clarinet.
This year I am playing as a part of the band for our musical. Which is frightening, but fun.

Lydia Benton was hurrying down the street to her house. it was almost time for lunch, and she knew her Mom would be mad if she was late again. Lydia had spent a little to much time with her best friend Alica Brook, planning her next story for the newspaper the two best friends wrote and delivered themselves, called Dover Lane News.
Lydia and Alica typed this newspaper on Alica’s computer, though it was only a few pages long, lately the girls had been having trouble finding enough to write about. That was why their meeting had run late.
As Lydia hurried along the lane to her house, she thought about how lucky she was to live on such a wonderful place as Dover Lane. Dover Lane wasn’t a rich neighborhood, but not a poor one. Dover Lane was a very close community made of eight houses on each side. Alica and Lydia lived on the same side of Dover Lane, but on opposite ends. It was only a short walk from the Brook house the the Benton house but it was enough to make Lydia late. Mrs Benton liked to have lunch right at 1:00, and it was 1:12.
“Mom, I’m home!” Lydia called, bursting though the door.

Grace watched, riveted, at Pa screaming in pain as the overseer brought the whip down over and over on his exposed back. Her babyish, deep brown eyes filled with tears and spilled down her cheeks, and she too felt like screaming along with him, feeling the pain that was shown clearly in his eyes. Grace opened her small mouth, but no words came out. Had someone of her young age ever felt such pain? She should do something, get someone to help, fetch Ma, Abby, anyone. But already a circle of people stood around the whipping post, watching silently. There was nothing anyone could do when Overseer Boris punished someone. Instead, Grace could only watch, unable to turn away from the horror scene which took place before her. Blood splattered the ground nearby. It was as if her tear filled eyes could not move away from what she saw.
“Lord, help us.
Grace managed to turn her head away from Pa and try to find the speaker. Who said that? Who was this Lord who could help? But a final, pathetic scream from her father tore her eyes away from searching the small group for the speaker and back to her father. Pa lay there in the dust beneath the whipping post, unmoving. The overseer’s whip cracked one last time and Pa only flinched, and didn't move again.