Chapter Sixteen
It’s the Thursday before our next band competition, and the pressure continues to mount for our performance this Saturday.
Everyone’s been so focused that there hasn’t even been time to clash with percussion.
A small part of me wonders if Max and Felix could be talking down the others after our Sunday game, but I’m not going to get my hopes up yet.
“Before we end for today,” Sire calls to us on the field from the sidelines, “I thought we’d do something fun to lighten the mood. It’s a game we’ve played before during band camp—Glare.”
The older members of the band cheer at the announcement.
Glare is a kind of weird game that somehow has become a tradition at Glen Vale.
Members of a section play against each other by standing in circles of five.
We all stare at the ground and when the field commanders scream Glare!
, we have to look up at someone in the group.
But there’s a strategy to it because you need to choose someone who likely won’t choose to look at you.
If you guess wrong, and the person is looking back at you, you’re both out.
I explain the rules quickly to the new members of guard and then lead us to the twenty-yard line where we break into two circles.
“This is confusing. How are we supposed to know who to look at?” Callie asks, her hand on her hip. She always seems to have something to complain about.
“You don’t, that’s why it’s a game,” Addison replies.
“It’s about knowing the personalities of your group members and being able to predict their actions,” I explain. “And also it’s just for fun. Don’t worry about it.”
“At least we get a break from practice,” Rosa mutters to Yori.
“Forced fun is better than having no fun like usual,” she whispers back.
My shoulders droop, but I pretend like I don’t hear them.
I know I’ve been on edge more than usual this week, but after our poor showing at the first competition, our rehearsals are more important than ever.
It probably doesn’t help that everyone is still annoyed about the bet I made with percussion.
“Are we ready, Knights?” Sire asks into his megaphone. I glance around at the circles spread all through the field. Happily, I can barely see the percussion at the far other end.
“Eyes down!” Marjorie commands. It’s almost like being back in drill down. Just like then, I’m determined to win.
“Glare!” our other drum major, Greg, calls.
I look up at Rosa. Sure enough, she isn’t looking at me. I figured she wouldn’t be after what she just said. Addison and Madisyn are out first round, leaving Devin behind, much to his chagrin. We look back at the ground.
“Rosa, look at me next time,” Devin whispers.
“You know that’s cheating,” I say.
“Yeah, but then we can go sit on the bleachers.”
I shake my head. Devin never saw a task he didn’t try to get out of. I’m surprised he stuck with color guard all four years.
“Glare!” Marjorie calls.
Sure enough, Devin and Rosa look at each other and I’m the de facto winner for our circle. It doesn’t feel like much of a victory when my competitors were actively trying to lose, though. Deja’s the winner from the other group of guard members.
“Great job so far, everyone,” Sire says once each group has gotten down to their last person. “Let’s keep this fun going! Circle up with the others and we’ll keep playing until we get down to one.”
I win the next round as well. There are only a small number of people left on the field now, and I’m not surprised to see that Nova is one of us. And so is Max.
I swallow hard and slowly make my way to the fifty-yard line to join them and the four other remaining people.
“Back together again,” Nova says and knocks my shoulder with her own. “Just like drill down.”
I manage a small laugh, but my mouth is dry. I can see Max in my peripheral vision, but I avoid eye contact with him, even though the game hasn’t started yet. I really don’t want to play anymore. With the others, it’s just a dumb game. But playing with Max feels…intimate.
I purposely turn toward Nova and away from where Max is standing. Nonetheless, a prickle of awareness creeps across my skin.
“Is Max looking at me right now?” I whisper to Nova.
Her eyes flick in his direction and back to me. “Uh…yep he is—wait, he was. He just looked away.”
“Why was he looking at me?”
“Don’t ask me, there’s nothing I understand less than guys. What’s going on? Why aren’t you in each other’s faces, throwing out insults like usual? Do you have an official truce?”
I shake my head. I don’t know what’s going on with us. We aren’t friends. We haven’t spoken a word to each other since the game Sunday. But there’s a weird tension between us now, and I don’t like it.
Marjorie walks in a slow circle around us, trying to be intimidating. “Eyes down!”
I drop my gaze to my toes, and my pulse speeds.
What’s my best tactic here? I could look at Nova since she’s probably unlikely to look at me this first round, but who knows.
I don’t want to take chances. My safest bet should be Max.
There’s no way he’d be looking at me…except that he just was a second ago.
Had he wanted to say something? Whisper an insult or threat? Now it’s too late to know.
“Glare!”
At the last second, I turn to my direct right and look at Eileen, a trumpet player. Luckily, her gaze is elsewhere. Whew, one round down.
I make it through the next two rounds by looking at a freshman trombone player.
But there’s an itching in the back of my brain each time I glare at the freshman’s cropped haircut.
The telltale feeling of eyes on me. It makes sense that someone would be looking at me given the game, but this gaze feels heavy, as if I’m being touched instead of watched.
I shake off the tension inching up my spine.
Greg circles behind me. “Eyes down!”
“Don’t look at Max unless you want to lose,” Nova whispers. She’s so quiet I can barely hear her.
“What?” I whisper back.
“He’s choosing you every round. Must be sabotage or something.”
“Glare!”
I jerk my eyes to Nova without thinking, but luckily she’s looking straight ahead.
At Max, if I’m remembering where he’s standing.
My heart races like we’re running laps rather than standing stock-still.
Two more people step out of the circle, leaving just Max, Nova, and me, but I don’t even bother to notice who they were.
The next round is a draw. I look at Nova, Nova looks at Max, and Max looks at me, presumably. The next round is the same.
“We’re getting bored, Final Three,” Sire says into the microphone. “I’m not surprised to see some of our usual suspects at the end, but let’s finish this up. May the best player win.”
His words remind me of the Most Valuable Member award and set my thoughts spinning in a different direction.
Even though that award is partially determined by band member votes, another weighted component is the votes from Sire and the assistant band director.
I’m pretty sure I lost a lot of his respect when I lost that equipment shed key, but could this be a way to win it back?
Would these games play a role in who they ultimately choose?
Suddenly, it feels more important than ever to win this.
I try to think through the others’ strategies, but my mind is garbled and the drum major is right behind me.
I stare at my shoes and squeeze my hands into fists.
Surely Max won’t keep choosing me every round, especially with Sire commanding us to switch it up?
“Glare!”
I swallow and lift my gaze to Max. His gray eyes are staring right back at me, wide and unblinking.
My chest tightens and expands at the same moment, and I can’t breathe.
Something in his expression shifts and I’m suddenly desperate to know what he’s thinking.
Is he angry I finally chose to look at him, or is it something else?
Nova screams in triumph next to me and the moment breaks.
“Congratulations, Nova! You’re on quite the roll,” Sire announces into the megaphone.
“Ahhh!” She jumps up and down excitedly. “I can’t believe I beat you both!”
Max winces and steps closer to me. “I didn’t realize she was as competitive as us.” He rubs a hand over his mouth.
“We’re best friends for a reason. She’s just better at hiding it.” I reach out to give her a hug, though I’m kicking myself for giving her the win. Why did I look at Max when I knew I could lose?
I guess I just couldn’t believe he’d be looking back.
My parents drop me off at the high school early Saturday morning for our second competition.
The band buses are lined up, waiting for us to file on.
There are also the huge band trailers filled with the pit instruments, color guard equipment, and everything else we’ll need for today.
A few percussion players are pushing xylophones up a ramp into the trailer.
Just seeing them reminds me of the bet once again, and I swallow tightly.
“Feeling good about today?” Dad asks me from the passenger side.
“I guess.”
“You better be, because I used my whole bottle of green glitter on the sign I made for you,” Kelsey interjects from my side.
“Aww, thanks,” I reply. I’d rather avoid the additional glitter-induced pressure, but there’s nothing more precious to Kelsey than her glitter collection.
“The weather isn’t in your favor,” Mom says and glances out the window. It’s gray and windy today and already spitting rain. “But I believe in you.”
“We’ll be screaming for you in the stands,” Dad says as I climb out onto the sidewalk. “Look for us!”