Chapter Thirty-Six
When Max and I step off the band bus together at the state competition, I’m relieved to find we have perfect weather.
It’s the kind of fall day that everyone wishes for and hardly ever gets—crisp without being cold, blue skies and sunny without sweating through our costumes, and no wind.
I’m taking it as a sign from the universe that today is going to be a good day.
“We’re finally here, huh?” Max says and takes my hand in his.
We basically haven’t stopped touching since we kissed on the football field yesterday afternoon.
Everyone was surprisingly cool with us blowing them off and going out by ourselves Friday night.
We went out for nachos, because of course we did, and I got to eat more than my share because I kept peppering Max with questions about how that performance came together.
But we also never stopped holding hands across the booth.
We were those people and I was totally fine with it.
Luckily, eating nachos with one hand isn’t too difficult.
I lean into his side. “We’re almost done with marching band. Forever.”
“Not forever. Maybe high school marching band, but tons of colleges have marching bands too. And they’ll need incredibly talented color guard specialists and percussion players just like you and me. Next year could be just like this…except no parents.”
I warm at the casual way he talks about us being together next year at college.
I hope that happens. And I’m not completely done with high school guard either.
I got the idea last night to try bringing back winter guard, which could be even more fun than color guard.
Winter guards perform a routine to prerecorded music and compete by themselves indoors, rather than with the larger band.
We’d have the freedom to choose our own show theme, flags, everything.
Back at band camp I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but we have enough dedicated people now that I think we should try.
Of course, we’ll also need Sire and Faith to buy into the idea, and our parents, but I’m feeling optimistic.
Max and I are forced to separate after that so we can warm up with our sections.
“You look so happy,” Callie says. “I was kinda worried you’d be mad about yesterday.”
“Mad? Yesterday was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Li nods smugly. “See, I told you,” she says to the others. “I could tell from our dinner that you weren’t over him.”
“I still can’t believe you all voluntarily chose to do more color guard rehearsals,” I say. “And hung out with percussion?”
“They’re not that bad once you get them away from Brody,” Deja says.
“So…are we going to count that as their performance for our bet, then?” I ask. I’m fine with that, but it needs to be a group decision.
The others exchange glances.
“We could,” Addison says. “They definitely put a lot of time into it.”
“But we never forced Brody to perform,” Callie argues.
“True. Although he looks miserable enough to make me satisfied,” Madisyn says and nods subtly to the left.
Brody and Kyle are huddled together, muttering and throwing angry looks at the rest of the percussion, who are chatting together a few yards away.
It looks like Brody’s popularity has finally taken a nosedive.
Max had mentioned last night how annoyed the others were that Brody wouldn’t learn the guard routine with them. He always was a sore loser.
“There’s one other thing to consider,” I say. “If we force Brody to go through with the stakes, we’ll have to spend more time with him.”
The others laugh and throw their hands up in the air like they’re surrendering.
“Very good point. I don’t want any more guard memories tainted by him,” Rosa says. “Especially now that our season is over.”
“Almost over,” I correct. “We have this last performance to nail. And I have another idea for spring that I want to run past—”
But I’m interrupted by Sire calling the entire band to come together. It’s almost time for our performance.
We’re the quietest we’ve ever been as we wait to march onto the field. I’ve never known nerves like the ones I’m feeling right now. I can’t talk and I can barely move. Everything comes down to these next few minutes. No more rehearsals or time to prepare.
We’re given the signal to come onto the field. I head to my first mark and place my lightning bolt flag on the ground. An announcer booms, “Glen Vale Marching Knights, you may begin your preplacement and/or warm-up.”
This short reprieve gives me enough time to take a calming breath, nod reassuringly to Li, and glance up at the stands.
Even from this distance, I can see Mom, Dad, and my extended family.
I know Max’s mom is with them as well. They’re standing in their matching shirts, waving pom-poms and signs.
The people seated around them are probably annoyed, but I’m grateful.
The sight of them gives me courage. We’ve worked long and hard for this, and we’re coming for that Superior rating.
As soon as we hit our first pose, I let the choreography and training take over, just like Mom told me to.
Adrenaline keeps me smiling and moving and it feels like we’re performing at warp speed.
It’s almost like an out-of-body experience, and soon we’re off the field again.
There are hugs and tears, excitement for things that went well and lamenting over any mistakes.
I care about the ratings, there’s no denying that, but whatever the rating is, it won’t take away from how much I love all these people.
Because we’re the last to perform in our section, the judges’ ratings will be ready soon. Nova finds me as we wait.
“Did you and Max have fun last night?” she asks with a knowing smile.
I beam at her. “We had the best time. Thank you again for what you did. I wasn’t sure if you really approved of us together.”
“I approve of anyone who can make you smile like you are right now. He definitely needed to redeem himself to me, but it’s obvious how he feels about you. He was a bigger perfectionist during those secret rehearsals than Sire ever was.”
I laugh, imagining it.
The announcer begins to read off the ratings for the earlier bands. Nova and I join Felix, Li, and Max, who are sitting a few rows above us. We link arms to form a human chain of support and anxiety.
“Next up are the ratings for Glen Vale High School. Ranking for musicality: Superior. For percussion: Superior.”
The five of us fly out of our seats.
“For auxiliary: Superior.”
Now we’re a jumping, shrieking mass of hysteria.
“Overall ranking: Superior!”
There’s definitely going to be permanent hearing loss in my future given the cacophony of screams around me.
The next thirty minutes are filled with hugs, more screaming, and lots of picture-taking because Mom and Melanie want to document every second.
Dad hugs me for a long time when he gets his turn, and Mom hugs me even longer.
She and I are both teary-eyed, and we don’t say much since we’ve already said it all, but I’m never going to forget how tightly she squeezes me or how I squeeze her back just as hard.
Even Kelsey hugs both Max and me and tells us congratulations.
She’s definitely more enthusiastic about Max’s hug than mine, but honestly, I can’t argue with her logic.
Finally we’re calm enough to talk in complete sentences again.
“It sounds like a lot of color guard families are going to celebrate at a new Italian restaurant close to here,” I tell my family.
“Then we’ll go there too,” Mom says immediately. “I’d love to catch up with their parents.”
I turn to Max. “Do you think you can convince your section to go?”
“I’m not sure I could stop them.”
“So guard and percussion are going to celebrate together?”
“It’s kind of fitting, actually,” he says. “I don’t think percussion would be half as good if we weren’t competing with you this season.”
“But what are you and I going to compete over now?” I ask.
“Settlers of Catan, finally?”
“Absolutely, but we already know who’ll win that one.” I tap my chin. “Maybe who gets to play most with Zoinks during D&D?”
“I’ve got the perfect one. Which of us gets the first kiss of the day.”
“Nope. It’s who gets the last kiss.” I kiss his cheek and dash away toward my parents’ car.
I hear footsteps, and then Max’s arms wrap around my waist from behind and pull me into his chest. “You’ll have a fight on your hands for that title.” His voice is low, and it sends a cascade of goose bumps down my arms.
I twist around and kiss him again. I’m happy to lose this particular competition to him every time.