Chapter Thirteen
Next Saturday morning, the band loads onto school buses headed to the next town over, where the local high school is running an invitational competition.
This is the first of our three local contests, and I’m crossing my fingers that the band can squeak out a Superior rating today so that we know we’ve already made state and can relax.
Really though, as long as percussion doesn’t win best in show today, I’ll be happy.
Band members are allowed to sit on whichever bus we want, so Nova and I make sure to avoid the percussion section.
We head toward the back with the other seniors and settle into a seat together like always.
It’s weird, but riding the bus with Nova might be one of my favorite parts of band.
It certainly keeps us entertained. Some people might think band kids are total dorks, but our buses are no joke.
There are more people making out, making up, or breaking up on a band bus than almost anyplace else.
The key is to sit far away from the chaperone and keep your eyes to yourself.
No one wants to see what goes on under the lap blankets on the bus, especially when we’re driving back in the dark.
Nova and I spend the next thirty minutes trying to predict how this D&D game tomorrow is likely to go.
“I’m not sure I’ve ever spoken to Felix,” she says.
“Me either. Though I don’t get the impression he speaks much at all.”
She sighs. “I know I was the one begging you to start this game, but now I’m nervous. This could fall apart really quick.”
“Agreed. But I love having an excuse for you to come over every Sunday. That alone makes it worth it.”
“Hopefully. I wonder—”
She cuts off at the first sound of musical notes.
Behind us, a few trumpets have started singing their parts of our opening song.
Nova gives me a grin and twists around toward them.
Then a trombone sings his bass notes, and two junior flute players lend their voices as well.
A tuba player tries her best to hit her low notes and there must be a percussion player or two hidden on this bus because someone is hitting the seats like they’re drums. I glance around, wondering if Max snuck on here somehow, but I don’t see him.
It’s almost too bad since I bet he’d nail the drum solo.
I push thoughts of him from my mind. The less focus on Max today, the better.
Instead, I climb onto my knees so I can see over the seats to the other band members.
Soon, the entire band bus is singing their parts of the show songs at the top of their lungs.
A mixture of excitement and nostalgia fills me.
It’s an informal tradition for Glen Vale to sing our performance show on the way to a competition.
There isn’t much I can do to help out, but I do mark our choreography from my seat and eagerly nod along with the music.
As they get to the end of Night on Bald Mountain, people start to lose the rhythm a bit.
Nova shoots up in the middle of the aisle.
“One, two, three, four,” she calls and starts conducting them as if she’s a field commander rather than section leader of the clarinets.
Our actual field commanders must be on the other bus since no one jumps in to help, but Nova gets them back on track quickly.
Honestly, she could have been an amazing drum major if she’d wanted it, but when I asked she said she’d rather play her clarinet than conduct the entire band.
And now she has a gorgeous solo in our show, so it was probably a smart call.
We’re still humming and laughing when we file off the bus.
We get our instruments and flags, and Sire finds a place for us to rehearse in the grass next to the high school.
At least five other high school bands, including some from our competition class, have staked out space close by, and it’s intimidating to see everyone decked out in their uniforms, standing in circles with their plumed hats by their feet, as they run through their music a few more times.
Faith is with us for the entire day, but rather than feeling calm knowing that she’s here to oversee everything, I’m aggravated.
Whenever she’s with us, she has us doing different warm-ups or rehearsing in a way we aren’t used to, and it confuses everyone.
But since she’s our guard director and technically a real grown-up, I can’t exactly tell her she’s doing it wrong.
I take her direction, but I’m sweating—literally and metaphorically.
It doesn’t help that it’s almost ninety degrees, and it’s clear that our guard isn’t ready for this competition.
“—right, Hazel?”
I snap my attention to Faith. I’d been studying Oak Grove High School, Max’s old band, across the field from us. They’re massive, with tons of funding and support from their community, and their guard is stellar every year. Even in practice, their flags are perfectly synchronized.
“Right,” I repeat back to Faith. “Uh, what was that again?”
She gives me a sharp look. “I was saying that the most important thing is to keep your eyes on your own paper, go out there with your chin high, and try your best. This is only the first competition. We have more to come, and you don’t want to stress yourself out before the performance.”
I frown. Maybe we need to be stressing a little more rather than being so chill about everything. How are we going to get better if no one cares about the results?
“Yes, we definitely want to try our best,” I say and take a step toward the rest of the guard.
“But that means we need to be clean out there. Everyone has things they can be more aware of. Keira, I noticed you tend to get off count when you’re in the back field during the push.
Really pay attention to that today. And Yori, you tend to lag—”
“Actually, you know what,” Faith interrupts, “we really should start warm-ups. Everyone, head over there under that tree and start stretching. I need Hazel’s help with the flags. We’ll be right back.”
She jerks her head toward the buses and I follow uncertainly. When we’re far enough away that they can’t see us anymore, she stops and puts a hand on her hip.
“They won’t know what to do.” I look back over my shoulder. “I always lead the warm-ups.”
“It’s stretching, Hazel. I’m sure they can figure it out.
” I start to argue, but she holds up a hand.
“You’ve got to cool it. I know it’s important to you that the group does well, but did you even see their faces?
They’re scared. For some of them, this is their first time ever performing in a competition.
Calling out their mistakes by name is not going to help them. ”
“But pretending like all they need to do is ‘try their best’ isn’t helping either. I’m not sure if you’ve realized this yet, but their best isn’t good enough.”
Faith pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a breath. “No one is at their best yet. It’s the first competition.”
Just then, Max’s voice booms in the distance. “Good luck?!”
“All day!” the rest of the percussion calls back.
I stifle a groan at their stupid cheer, as well as the fact that when they start playing a moment later, they sound stellar.
I swallow down my rising anxiety. What if percussion actually manages to get best percussion today and win our bet?
Not only will we be cleaning the men’s toilets at the end of the season (I have to squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t gag), we’ll have an entire season of them rubbing it in our faces too.
We have to get better ASAP. I need to find a way to help them.
“I want you to take a deep breath.” Faith puts a hand on my arm. “What the group needs right now is to have a captain who is cool, calm, and collected. Be a role model for them, okay?”
I bite my lip and nod. “Yeah, okay.”
I swear, I really try. I act calm, I smile, I do everything right…
but it doesn’t matter. Within the first minute, I can tell we won’t be winning any trophies today.
The beginning measures of our show start spooky and a bit chaotic, as the band mimics the sounds of storm winds blowing through the football field and the color guard erratically waves our huge lightning bolt–shaped flags.
We’re trying to set the mood for Night on Bald Mountain and also show a sharp contrast between the frenzied “storm” in our first minute followed by us snapping to attention a minute later.
When the band hits their first few notes with full power and volume, it’s essential that every member of the guard hit our choreography with matching synchronization. Unfortunately, we do the opposite.
The guard isn’t listening to the music well enough, and they get off count—though it doesn’t help that the band gets off count a few times as well.
My adrenaline spikes and I call out the counts to whoever can hear me, hoping that will be enough to get them back on track.
I can’t call out the moves to everyone, though.
Our show requires us to move constantly throughout the field, often separated by large sections of the band.
Then, to my horror, I see that Keira accidentally grabbed the wrong flag from behind our prop screen on the field.
We’ve practiced this exchange so much already, but somehow Keira is performing the second song with a gold-and-red flag, while everyone else has purple.
I’m screaming internally, but I keep a smile on my face like it was totally planned that way.
I see urinal cakes in my future, though.
The next forty-five minutes in the stands are misery.
The whole band waits for the results to be announced at the end of the competition.
I have no hope for color guard, but I’m praying that percussion had a bad day as well.
Max catches my eye as he climbs the bleachers with the rest of his percussion friends.
Neither of us says anything, but we don’t glare or throw barbs at each other, so I’ll take it.
The announcer eventually begins to list the awards.
Nova’s shoulder presses against my own as we wait.
There are only four Class AA bands—a category for large schools—in this competition, so surely we’ll at least get a trophy.
But as the announcer continues through the awards, we realize we’re in fourth place.
Out of four bands? Murmurs and cries from others rise up around me.
Maybe the color guard has a history of struggling in competition, but the band is always good.
“And the award for Best Overall Auxiliary goes to…Oak Grove High School!”
Nova groans next to me, but I only feel a tinge of disappointment.
If we can’t manage to get matching flags on the field, it’s pretty obvious we aren’t winning best in show awards today.
Plus, Oak Grove has won almost every competition I’ve ever been a part of.
It’s no surprise they’d win again today.
“Our next award for Best Overall Percussion goes to…Oak Grove High School again!”
To our left, Oak Grove shrieks in excitement, and for once I’m tempted to stand up and join them.
Thank god, at least we haven’t lost our bet to Max and Brody yet.
I hesitate, then glance behind me to where Max is sitting.
His shoulders are slumped, and he looks totally dejected.
I almost feel bad for him…until I remind myself of how much I don’t want to clean bathrooms. Max lifts his head to find me staring.
He presses his lips into a thin line and nods slowly.
I return the gesture. We don’t speak, but I know what he’s trying to say. Next time.
The announcer continues until finally it’s time for him to list all the bands who have qualified for state today by earning a Superior rating at the competition.
While I know the guard won’t be getting a Superior rating for our specific performance, we will still be set for state as long as the overall band gets a Superior.
“The bands who have qualified for state at this competition are River View High School, Laurelburg High School, Twin Valley High School, and Oak Grove High School! Congratulations on your impressive work today, and a huge thank-you to all the schools for coming out and performing. Thank you for attending and please drive safely!”
Wait…seriously? We didn’t qualify?
Around us, chatter begins as the crowd stands and moves toward the exits, but Glen Vale doesn’t move.
After a moment, Sire gestures for us to follow him.
Mom, Dad, and Kelsey call to me from the crowd and I give a half-hearted wave in return.
I hate seeing the strained expressions on their faces, as if they want to cringe but are smiling for my benefit.
It was a waste of time for them to even come here today.
“We knew this was a rebuilding year,” Sire calls once everyone is huddled together by the band buses.
The others are buzzing around me with a combination of angry and depressed whispers.
“It seems that some of the judges were not as impressed with our musicality as I was hoping, which is why they gave us an Excellent today. But all this means is that we have to keep working harder than ever during rehearsals to make sure we qualify for state. We have two more competitions, including one a week from today. We’ll make it happen. ”
Keep working harder.
Sure. But how far will that get us? I have no doubt the band will earn a Superior next time. They’ve done it a billion times before and they’ll figure it out this time too. But for the guard? I don’t know how to fix us in time.