Chapter Sixteen #2
I don’t know how I could miss them. They already have Glen Vale Music booster T-shirts, face paint, comically large pins with my band photo, and an intensely glittery sign.
Oh, and big cowbells to ring when the band takes the field.
The only reason they aren’t band bus chaperones too is because they need to be with Kelsey…
and because I desperately begged them not to freshman year.
“And make us proud!” Mom calls.
I droop a bit lower at her words. I’d love for today to be the time I can finally accomplish that, but I don’t think the marching band gods are on my side this time.
The rain morphs from a mist to a steady drizzle and my hopes sink lower.
If it was a thunderstorm with a chance of lightning, they’d cancel the competition altogether, which would be much preferable.
But as long as no one is in danger from the weather, we’re still expected to perform.
Adding to our bad luck is our performance order.
Usually it would be a good thing to go last in the hopes that you could blow away the judges and leave a lasting impression in their minds.
But by the time we finally march out hours later, the soggy field is so chewed up by the other bands that we can barely see the yard lines.
The rain makes the players more liable to squeak or be off tune, mud gets clogged onto the soles of our shoes, and don’t even get me started with the flags.
At least the others can keep their instruments off the ground, but the tips of our flags are literally swirling through the mud, which means that they’re dirty, heavy, and flipping mud onto our cheeks and eyes with each drop spin and toss.
It’s so slippery that I even fall at one point and smear mud all over my face.
Basically, the whole performance is pure misery, and it shows in our scores.
“Well…”
For once, Mom is at a loss for words when I find my family again after the awards have been given out. I’m grateful that it’s still sprinkling because it helps to camouflage my tears.
“You know, let’s look at it this way—it can only go up from here!” Dad says. “And it’ll be a performance you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”
I half cough, half sob. That’s one way to put it. Color guard didn’t even score an Excellent this time—we were given a Good. It feels the same as being rated Horrendous. I’ve never felt more embarrassed.
“It’s only one competition,” Mom says and rubs my back.
“This is what success stories are made of. The hero is down and out, feeling hopeless, but then they rebound and win it all in the end. That can still be you! Think of how amazing it’ll feel when you earn that Superior at your last competition.
Sire will have to give you the MVM award after that! ”
I wish the storm was stronger right now so lightning could strike and kill me where I stand. I’m barely holding it together and Mom is talking about me winning the MVM award? That couldn’t be further from my grasp now.
“Is there a trash can somewhere?” Kelsey asks miserably and holds up her beautifully made sign. The glitter is sliding down the poster like it’s crying from how bad our performance was.
I can’t stand here any longer with their disappointed expressions and chipper voices.
There’s nothing they can say that will make me feel better.
There’s nothing anyone can say. Those dreams of Superior scores and best auxiliary awards are fading further and further from view.
Even worse, we haven’t qualified for state yet.
We always have a place at state by our second competition.
The idea of not going my senior year is so depressing that I’m tempted to lie face down in the nearest mud puddle.
“I promised a few people I’d check on them,” I tell my parents. “Everyone’s pretty upset.”
Dad nods understandingly. “Of course, you should be with your friends. Do you want us to wait and give you a ride home?”
“No, I’ll ride back with the guard. It’s the least I can do.”
As soon as I’m free, I stride in the opposite direction, although I don’t know where I’m going.
There’s no one else to talk to or check on, that was just the first excuse that came to mind.
But a few minutes alone sound like exactly what I need.
I head toward the Glen Vale equipment buses. Angry voices catch my attention.
“Get a grip, dude. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. Everyone’s already demoralized after tonight. You didn’t need to make fun of Felix and Niko like that in front of everyone.”
I freeze. That’s Max speaking, and the other voice is definitely Brody. I look for them, but I don’t see them anywhere. They must be around the corner of the closest bus.
“How are they going to learn if someone doesn’t call them out? They both suck. They’re pulling us down, and there’s no way in hell I’m performing a color guard routine because they caused us to lose that stupid bet.”
“But they’re young. And they’re trying. I’m pretty sure Felix’s mom heard some of the stuff you said to him.”
“Then it’ll motivate him to make sure it never happens again.”
Max growls and I can almost imagine him throwing his hands in the air.
Hearing tension within the percussion section should be the lift I need to lighten my mood.
If their two best players are fighting, that can’t bode well for them.
But I can’t find any joy in this. Brody was making fun of Felix? What kind of section leader does that?
“We’re never going to get better if you keep acting like this,” Max argues, his voice getting louder. “People are scared of you.”
“Are you scared of me? Because if you keep talking to me like this, then you probably should be.”
I suck in a breath and push my hands into my stomach. There’s a chill in Brody’s voice that sends shivers down my spine.
“No, Brody.” Max’s voice is steady. “I’m not scared of you.”
“Too bad.”
I spin around and hurry away in case they’re done talking.
The very last thing I need is for either of them to find me eavesdropping on their argument.
I’ve put enough space between us that I think I’m in the clear when Max calls out my name.
I turn around slowly. A quick scan of the area shows me that Max and I are alone now.
I take a deep breath to steel myself and raise my protective walls.
It’s already a horrible day. There’s nothing Max can say that could make it worse.
“Look,” I say, “it’s been a bad day for everyone. If you’re thinking about making yourself feel better by kicking me when I’m down, just keep moving. I really don’t need it tonight.”
Max freezes mid-stride. “That’s not why I called your name.”
“Oh. I just figured…”
He walks closer, but his posture sags. “That the only reason I would talk to you is so I could make you feel bad?”
“I mean…yeah. That’s how it usually goes. Although, to be fair, you could probably say the same of me.”
He sighs. “Why do we act like that?”
“Because our sections hate each other, and you hate me, and—”
“I don’t hate you, Hazel. I’ve never hated you. I’ve been angry, but only because I wished my life was more like yours.”
I nod, unsure how to respond.
“Do you hate me?” he asks quietly.
“Well…I hated you when we fought at drill down. And when you doused me with vinegar and gave me thawed Popsicles. And told me off when I tried to welcome you to band.” He grimaces and rubs both his hands up his face and through his hair. “But I haven’t hated you as much these last few days?”
One corner of his mouth lifts. “Wonderful.”
“D&D was fun,” I add. “Much more so than I thought it’d be.”
“Yeah, it was. Felix told me he had a great time, by the way. I’m not sure he told you that.”
I bite my lip, knowing I should leave it, but I can’t stop myself. “I wasn’t trying to, but I overheard some of what you said to Brody just now. About Felix and Niko. I’m sorry about that.”
“It was so low of Brody.” His eyes shine with anger. “I couldn’t believe he lashed out at them like that, especially right now when they’re already feeling like crap.”
“We all had a bad competition,” I say. “Emotions are running high. Hopefully everyone can shake it off for rehearsal on Monday.” I can’t believe I’m making excuses for Brody’s usual dirtbag behavior, but right now it feels more important to say something encouraging to Max than to rub in how I was right about Brody all along.
“I’m glad you were here, Hazel.” His gaze sweeps over my face. “It’s good to have you to talk to.”
“It’s surprisingly good to talk to you too.”
He laughs. “Another great compliment to end the night with. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He takes a few steps before I’m walking after him.
“Hey, Max?” Nerves claw up my throat. “Why did you keep looking at me during the Glare game?”
He stills for a moment before turning around. “How do you know where I was looking if you weren’t looking back?”
“Nova told me.”
“Ah.” He rubs his hand along the back of his neck and shifts his weight like he’s debating. Then he shrugs. “I knew you’d never look back at me. Seemed like the easiest path to victory.”
The explanation makes sense, but I’m surprised by how disappointed I am from it. It’s embarrassing how quickly my feelings for Max can resurface no matter how hard I push them away.
“Right,” I whisper. “Well, sorry I looked that last time and wrecked your victory plan.”
He shakes his head. “Actually, don’t be.”
Then he smiles and walks away.