Chapter Five
“Kelsey, I need your cat ears and tail from last Halloween,” I say as I walk downstairs late Sunday afternoon.
I’m still buzzing from beating Max at drill down on Friday. It felt amazing and I smile every time I think of it, but my win isn’t going to help the color guard with our season. I need them to fully invest so that we can become a cohesive team.
Which means, naturally, that we’re dressing up as cats.
Kelsey puts a bookmark in the latest dragon book she’s reading and then eyes me with suspicion. “Why do you need my costume?”
“For color guard.”
“You dress up as cats in band?”
“You’re doing group costumes?” Mom calls from the dining room. “I always loved that.”
Of course she did.
“I don’t want you getting my costume sweaty,” Kelsey says and goes back to reading.
Can’t anything be easy? I walk over to the doorway that separates the living room and dining room. The table is almost completely covered in D&D manuals and notebooks as Mom preps for her game this evening.
“A lot of the sections have already dressed up, and I figured it would be fun for everyone. Like a bonding exercise.” I survey the table. “What are you working on?”
“Last-minute details.” She leans back in her chair and stretches. “I have a big encounter planned, and I want to make sure to get it right.”
I’m sure she will, as she always does. Mom takes her role as Dungeon Master very seriously.
It’s like an extra part-time job. Everything she does is “homebrew”—meaning her campaigns and non-player characters are created from scratch—and she meticulously studies each of the characters in her campaign to decide how the storyline should progress.
Dad says the NPCs are more three-dimensional than his own character.
It’s incredibly impressive, and I’m sure that’s why she’s been playing with the same group for the last six years.
But it’s also intimidating. Nova’s been bugging me to DM a game for at least a year, but every time I think about it, I freeze up and abandon the idea.
I don’t want to run a half-baked game. Like Mom, if I’m going to do something, I need to do it full-out or not at all.
“Have you decided on your sectional dinner yet?” Mom asks and flips to the back of the Monster Manual. “If you’re doing it at a restaurant then you’ll need reservations given the group size.”
I nod along as if I’d already considered this, but inside, my anxiety cranks up another notch. Right…I need to plan a section dinner too. I should already have that in the works, but I haven’t even begun to think about it.
“Would you want them to come here?” Mom asks in a softer voice. I must not be hiding my panic well. “I don’t want to take over,” she adds quickly, “but I’m happy to help if you’d like.”
“Actually…that would be great. I’ve been spending so much time thinking about our routines…”
“I get it, you have lots on your mind. My work schedule is light on Wednesday. Why don’t you tell everyone to come over after camp for dinner—it’ll be a good way for you all to relax midweek. Oh, and Kelsey’s costume is stuffed into the top of the hall closet. She won’t even notice if you take it.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re a lifesaver.”
I’m grateful, but a sinking sadness hits me all the same. I wish I didn’t need her to come to my rescue. I wanted this to be the year when I could handle everything on my own, but so far it’s been the opposite.
I arrive at camp Monday morning feeling a little silly. I did my best with Kelsey’s meager costume: securing the cat ears with bobby pins, attaching the tail to my gray shorts, and using some eyeliner to add whiskers to my cheeks. I won’t be winning any awards, but it gets the point across.
Li went full-out. Not only does she have ears and a tail, she’s wearing a leopard print shirt and leopard face paint.
“You look adorable!” I cry.
She beams and does a spin as she walks in the band room door. “I rummaged through my mom’s closet and came up with this. You look great too!”
To my surprise, the sophomores—Callie, Deja, and Keira—have great costumes as well. Actually, the entire guard really brought it today.
“I love a reason to dress up,” Callie says when I pull the group together for morning rehearsals.
“This is so much fun,” Deja agrees. “I wish we could do this every day instead of worrying about rehearsals and performances.”
It’s hard to hear her over the raucous laughter that fills the air. A half dozen percussion players, including Max and Brody, are circled up together in the back of the room, bent over at their waists laughing. One of the guys is trying to do a handstand and keeps falling.
“It’s kinda too bad the percussion section hates us,” Keira says longingly. “They seem fun.”
“And cute,” Deja adds.
“Keep a wide berth,” I say and shoot a quick glare at the guys.
Unfortunately, Max looks over at that moment and catches my eye. My pulse leaps and I spin away. The last thing I need is for him to think I’m talking about him.
“Like you did on Friday at drill down? I saw you talking to Max and Brody—what was going on with that?” Madisyn asks.
The whole group encircles me. I get the impression they’ve been hoping for some gossip.
“They thought they were going to beat me at drill down, so I had to put them in their place. I can’t stand their egos.”
“You certainly seem to bring it out in Max. He looked pissed,” Addison replies.
“We used to know each other, and our parents are friends, so everything is…weird,” I explain. “I can’t believe what a jerk he’s turned into.”
Devin glances back at him. “But he’s so hot.”
I’m tempted to look over at Max again but fight the urge. “Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s nice.”
“If you say so,” Callie says.
Just then the percussion section breaks out into their stupid chant: “Good luck? All day! We suck? No way!”
I roll my eyes and turn my back fully on them. I hate that chant with my whole being. It barely makes sense, it’s not creative, and I’ve heard them scream it at the top of their lungs more times than I can count.
“The only time I want to interact with them is when they’re delivering our Popsicles.
Otherwise, we should be focusing on ourselves,” I remind the guard.
“Speaking of which, I’d love to do a color guard sectional dinner.
How about this Wednesday? I was thinking we could meet at my place to hang out and eat a bunch of food? ”
Everyone’s quiet, and it occurs to me that they might refuse. How mortifying would it be if I can’t get them to eat a free dinner with me? I could never tell Mom. Maybe I have enough in savings to bribe them into coming if necessary.
“Uh…” Madisyn glances at her friends. “I have a date at eight, but I can come for dinner beforehand.”
Addison and Devin nod in agreement.
“I’d love to come!” Li says eagerly.
“I can probably be free,” Rosa adds.
The others agree and I’m able to breathe again. “Awesome. Okay, then let’s go work our tails off!” I shake my fluffy tail at them.
“Nooooooo,” Callie groans, while a few others boo at me…but they’re smiling. Right now, I’ll take what I can get.
Our afternoon practice on the field is scorching.
August in Ohio can be absolutely miserable with the high heat and humidity, and Sire keeps giving us extra breaks to gulp down water and apply extra sunscreen (not that most people take advantage of that).
The guys in particular seem to compete for worst sunburn by the time band camp is over.
“I should have brought my own Popsicles for the guard,” I say to Nova during our latest break.
She hauled in a cooler filled with ice and rainbow Popsicles for all the clarinets.
She might hate people in general, but there’s no denying she’s a great section leader.
I take a gulp of my sad lukewarm water. “Why did I think the percussion would actually fulfill their side of the bet?”
“I wish I had enough for both our sections.”
“No, it’s my fault. Once again, I wasn’t cynical enough. I need to learn your ways.”
I’m seriously debating asking if I can have some of the melting ice from her cooler when Max jogs up to us. “Those Popsicles are probably sounding pretty good right now, huh? I’ll go grab them for you. And no, I didn’t forget. I never go back on the bets I make.”
And then he smiles at me. I feel it all the way down to my toes.
I only have enough time to blink before he’s jogging back into the high school.
I turn to Nova. “Did he just smile at me?”
“I saw his teeth, so I’m pretty sure that’s an affirmative.”
“Well, now I’m officially scared.” I glower at his back and take another swig of water.
“Maybe he’s coming around to you again?” She takes a bite of her Popsicle. “Or he was impressed by your drill down skills?”
“Maybe…”
“Well, whatever it is, I hope it sticks. Max seemed genuinely interested in D&D and it got my hopes up that we might get a game together after all this time.”
The rest of the color guard circles around Nova and me when Max comes back, and the percussion also meanders over.
He holds out the box to me. I recognize it as one of those generic brands of Popsicles where it’s really just colored water frozen in narrow plastic pouches.
It’s not my favorite kind of Popsicle, but with this heat I’m willing to take anything.
“You won fair and square, so here’s your box,” he says. “From the percussion to the color guard.”
This doesn’t feel right. He’s still smiling, but now I notice that the rest of the percussion is too. That can’t bode well.
As soon as I take the box, I realize what they’re smiling about.
“These aren’t frozen!”
The whole color guard groans in dismay. Callie takes the box from me as if she doesn’t believe me. “Are you serious right now?”
Max looks from her to me. “You said that if you won, we had to bring you Popsicles. You never said they had to be frozen.”
“I shouldn’t have to specify—they’re Popsicles. Of course they’re going to be frozen!”
Anger burns through me from my head to my fingertips. I can’t believe I thought Max might act like a decent human being today. Who does something like this?
“Welp, there goes my D&D game,” Nova mutters under her breath.
All around him, the other percussion members are laughing at their hilarious joke and watching him like he’s some god. “Was this your idea?” I ask him.
“That box is a twenty-count—that’s double the amount we agreed on. You should be thanking me.”
“You are the most arrogant, irritating joke of a person I’ve ever met, and that’s really saying something.” I squeeze my hands into fists and step closer to him, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze with contempt. “You lost our bet and now you need to pay up.”
“I already brought you Popsicles.” The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile and his eyes flash. “What else would you like from me?”
“I want…I mean, you should—” I cut off when I realize how close we’re standing. Close enough that I can see his individual eyelashes and smell the scent of peppermint on his breath.
Sire’s whistle sounds, indicating the end of our rest period. I suck in a breath and break off eye contact. I can’t let him get to me like that anymore. It only makes me look more ridiculous.
“Gotta go!” He gives a little wave. “Enjoy the Popsicles, though!”
I stand in shock as he jogs away, then glare at the box by my feet. I want to pull out the individual Popsicles and throw them at the back of his head.
“I’ll put them in our deep freezer when I get home,” I tell the guard as we walk back to the field. “And I’ll bring them back tomorrow if they freeze in time.”
“I’m starting to understand why we hate the percussion section,” Deja says.
As if on cue, they shout their stupid chant again.
“More like they suck all day,” Li says quietly.
An idea pops into my head. “Actually, I think you may have just given us a new motivational chant, Li.”
I gather the whole guard around me and whisper my hurried thoughts to them before Sire gets frustrated that we aren’t on the field yet. Our rhymes aren’t great, and the chant is still corny, but it’ll annoy percussion and that’s all I want right now.
“As loud as you can,” I whisper and we all turn to the percussion section. “Hey, we wrote you something!” Then we chant in unison: “Good luck? No way! They suck? All day! Big yuck, don’t play!”
We burst into laughter and a flurry of high fives.
To my surprise, Max looks unbothered by our new and improved chant.
In fact, his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to laugh.
Granted, he’s only been a Glen Vale percussion member for six days.
The rest of the percussion is livid, though.
Brody’s face goes bright red, and I know that’s not from a sunburn.
They’ve passed their chant down for years. To them, it’s sacred.
Whoops. I guess that’ll teach them for trying to humiliate us.