He stops jumping suddenly, which makes his knees buckle.“I’m looking forward to it.” His voice sounds sincere. I still don’t know if I can trust him, but I guess we could give it one try and see how it goes.
“Onesession,” I say and hold up a single finger for emphasis. “And I reserve the right to cancel if it doesn’t go well.”
His face breaks into a huge goofy grin, and my chest tightens at the sight. I know that grin. I used to love thatgrin.
“Finally something we can agree on.”
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 awayfrom 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 informaltradition 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 ofNight 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 doingit 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 weneedto 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 becleanout 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’sstretching,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.”
