He laughs good-naturedly at everyone’s reaction. “Fair enough. I have to admit that I kind of hated you guys in the past too.But,now that I’m here, I’m happy to share their trade secrets so we can take them down.”
The band explodes with hoots and cheers. A few of the percussion members clap him on the back, and even Sire seems amused by his declaration.
“Wow, he’s cute,” Madisyn, one of my guard members, whispers behind me.
“Super cute,” her bestie, Addison, replies. “Thank god we have some new blood here.”
“Band just got more interesting.”
Adrenaline rolls through me. Nova catches my eye from her seat in the clarinet section and raises an eyebrow as if to saywhoa.I agree. When did Max become the kind of person who could make impromptu speeches in front of strangers? And now he’s got my color guard members thirsting for him within thirty seconds? I’ve been working since sixth grade to win over the band and still haven’t succeeded.
I don’t have more time to think about it, though, because Sire sends the color guard on our way. Faith takes us through a series of warm-ups and then she and I review the beginning phrases of our first song. It feels like some of the girls are struggling to pick up even basic moves, but I guessI shouldn’t be surprised since we didn’t have a lot of people try out and had to accept everyone who did.
It’s no secret that our color guard has struggled in previous years, which explains the difficulty in recruiting new members. One of our biggest issues is that we’ve yet to find a reliable guard director to oversee our program. Sire had to scramble to find someone again this year, and the only available person was Faith—an alum who’s four years older than me, just out of college, and starting her first “adult” job in addition to working with us.
I want to help the guard in whatever way I can, but I’m not sure how to handle things yet. Some of our members aren’t paying much attention, but it’s their first day. I bite my lip and swallow down my worries. It’s probably just nerves that will settle out soon.
It isn’t until we’re all walking out to the field later that I see Max again. He’s laughing with a group of other percussion players. I fiddle with my hair. I know I should be happy that he’s making friends quickly, but they’re absolutely going to taint his view of the color guard—and me—if I don’t talk to him soon.
I wave him down, feeling nauseous. Here we go.
“Hey, Max.” My voice is strangled, and I’m not sure he even hears me.
The guys around him stop talking, as if they’re intrigued to see how this will go down. Probably hoping he’ll be as rude as they are. He’s much taller than I remember him, although I guess that makes sense since he’s had three years to grow. His jawline is also more defined, like he’s lost thelast of his chubby-cheeked kid years. But his hair is still the same wavy jet black, always long enough that it’ll fall in his eyes when he reads or studies a board game. His gray eyes lock onto mine, and my heart hammers in my chest like I’m thirteen all over again. I’m not sure I realized just how much I missed him until this moment.
“Hey,” he replies.
“It’s been a while, huh?” I continue hesitantly. “Good to see you again.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s crazy that we’re at the same high school now.”
His face doesn’t light up in the way I was hoping it might. “It is crazy. At least your band’s good.”
“Better than Oak Grove. I would say ‘no offense,’ but I wouldn’t really mean it.”
There’s a flash of amusement in his expression and I take a calming breath. Okay, this is awkward, but it’s workable.
“Sorry you have to be part of our percussion section, though,” I say with a lowered voice. “Are you sure you don’t secretly have a talent for saxophone or flute so you can switch?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well…” I pause, searching for the right words and landing on: “They suck.”
His face goes blank. “If I remember correctly, Glen Vale actually beat us for best percussion at one of the competitions last year. We were all seething about it for days.”
I roll my eyes. He doesn’t need to remind me. The percussion players were absolutely insufferable after that win. They made T-shirts and bigWinnerpins and even a specialhandshake that they loved to do in front of the color guard to remind us how we’ve never won best in show.
“I don’t mean as players…I mean aspeople.”
His expression darkens. “They’ve been cool to me.”
Oh god. I realize a beat too late that I’ve completely stepped in it. And while I’m right about the percussion section—especially Brody, their section leader and captain of the jerks—I shouldn’t have been so quick to say that. It’s only Max’s first day, and he’ll figure it out soon enough. He doesn’t need me to rub his face in it.
My brain whirs as I try to recalibrate, but before I can start over, Max speaks again. “You know, Hazel, maybe it’s ayouproblem. Sorry if we can’t all reach the level of perfection you’re used to.”
I blink at the heat in his voice, wondering if I misheard him. “Wh-what?”
