Just then, Max’s voice booms in the distance. “Goodluck?!”
“All day!” the rest of the percussion calls back.
I stifle a groan at their stupid cheer, as well as the fact that when they start playing a moment later, they sound stellar. I swallow down my rising anxiety. What if percussion actually manages to get best percussion today and win our bet? Not only will we be cleaning the men’s toilets at the end of the season (I have to squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t gag), we’ll have an entire season of them rubbing it in our faces too. We have to get better ASAP. I need to find a way to help them.
“I want you to take a deep breath.” Faith puts a hand on my arm. “What the group needs right now is to have acaptain who is cool, calm, and collected. Be a role model for them, okay?”
I bite my lip and nod. “Yeah, okay.”
I swear, I really try. I act calm, I smile, I do everything right…but it doesn’t matter. Within the first minute, I can tell we won’t be winning any trophies today. The beginning measures of our show start spooky and a bit chaotic, as the band mimics the sounds of storm winds blowing through the football field and the color guard erratically waves our huge lightning bolt–shaped flags. We’re trying to set the mood forNight onBald Mountainand also show a sharp contrast between the frenzied “storm” in our first minute followed by us snapping to attention a minute later. When the band hits their first few notes with full power and volume, it’s essential that every member of the guard hit our choreography with matching synchronization. Unfortunately, we do the opposite.
The guard isn’t listening to the music well enough, and they get off count—though it doesn’t help that the band gets off count a few times as well. My adrenaline spikes and I call out the counts to whoever can hear me, hoping that will be enough to get them back on track. I can’t call out the moves to everyone, though. Our show requires us to move constantly throughout the field, often separated by large sections of the band.
Then, to my horror, I see that Keira accidentally grabbed the wrong flag from behind our prop screen on the field.We’ve practiced this exchange so much already, but somehow Keira is performing the second song with a gold-and-red flag, while everyone else has purple. I’m screaming internally, but I keep a smile on my face like it was totally planned thatway.
I see urinal cakes in my future, though.
The next forty-five minutes in the stands are misery. The whole band waits for the results to be announced at the end of the competition. I have no hope for color guard, but I’m praying that percussion had a bad day as well. Max catches my eye as he climbs the bleachers with the rest of his percussion friends. Neither of us says anything, but we don’t glare or throw barbs at each other, so I’ll take it.
The announcer eventually begins to list the awards. Nova’s shoulder presses against my own as we wait. There are only four Class AA bands—a category for large schools—in this competition, so surely we’ll at least get a trophy. But as the announcer continues through the awards, we realize we’re in fourth place. Out offourbands? Murmurs and cries from others rise up around me. Maybe the color guard has a history of struggling in competition, but the band is always good.
“And the award for Best Overall Auxiliary goes to…Oak Grove High School!”
Nova groans next to me, but I only feel a tinge of disappointment. If we can’t manage to get matching flags on the field, it’s pretty obvious we aren’t winning best in show awards today. Plus, Oak Grove has won almost every competition I’ve ever been a part of. It’s no surprise they’d win again today.
“Our next award for Best Overall Percussion goes to…Oak Grove High School again!”
To our left, Oak Grove shrieks in excitement, and for once I’m tempted to stand up and join them. Thankgod,at least we haven’t lost our bet to Max and Brody yet. I hesitate, then glance behind me to where Max is sitting. His shoulders are slumped, and he looks totally dejected. I almost feel bad for him…until I remind myself of how much I don’t want to clean bathrooms. Max lifts his head to find me staring. He presses his lips into a thin line and nods slowly. I return the gesture. We don’t speak, but I know what he’s trying to say.Next time.
The announcer continues until finally it’s time for him to list all the bands who have qualified for state today by earning a Superior rating at the competition. While I know the guard won’t be getting a Superior rating for our specific performance, we will still be set for state as long as the overall band gets a Superior.
“The bands who have qualified for state at this competition are River View High School, Laurelburg High School, Twin Valley High School, and Oak Grove High School! Congratulations on your impressive work today, and a huge thank-you to all the schools for coming out and performing. Thank you for attending and please drive safely!”
Wait…seriously? We didn’t qualify?
Around us, chatter begins as the crowd stands and moves toward the exits, but Glen Vale doesn’t move. After a moment, Sire gestures for us to follow him. Mom, Dad, and Kelsey call to me from the crowd and I give a half-hearted wave in return. I hate seeing the strained expressions on their faces, as if they want to cringe but are smiling for my benefit. It was a waste of time for them to even come here today.
“We knew this was a rebuilding year,” Sire calls once everyone is huddled together by the band buses. The others are buzzing around me with a combination of angry and depressed whispers. “It seems that some of the judges were not as impressed with our musicality as I was hoping, which is why they gave us an Excellent today. But all this means is that we have to keep working harder than ever during rehearsals to make sure we qualify for state. We have two more competitions, including one a week from today. We’ll make it happen.”
Keep working harder.
Sure. But how far will that get us? I have no doubt the band will earn a Superior next time. They’ve done it a billion times before and they’ll figure it out this time too. But for the guard? I don’t know how to fix us in time.
Chapter Fourteen
Despite my color guard worries, I’m able to knock out my homework early on Sunday so I can spend the rest of the day obsessing about the D&D game tonight. Originally, I thought about using a pre-made campaign, which would make things much easier, but if I’m going to finally be a Dungeon Master then I really want todoit. Mom never uses pre-made campaigns. She says she likes doing something unique and using her creativity.
It’s intimidating, though. Not only do I need to know what the storyline is and have my non-player characters figured out so I can role-play them myself, I also need to know the rules for how the others will play. What if someone plays a sorcerer and I have to know all their possible spells and how they could affect encounters with the monsters I have them fight? Or what if someone misunderstands what their character is capable of and I don’t catch it? And, of course, that fear has ratcheted up knowing that Max and Felix are joining thegame. The very last thing I want is to screw up in front of them or have one of them point out my mistakes.
I’m knee-deep in research when Mom pokes her head into the dining room. I’ve stolen her usual D&D prep space so we have a table for our game, but she and Dad are too thrilled about me DMing to complain.
“Still working away?” She looks over my shoulder at my openMonster Manual.“You’re going to be a great DM just like you’re a great guard captain.”
I wince. I’d rather not be reminded of band right now. In fact, if I’m being honest, that’s one of the reasons I’ve thrown myself into prepping today. If I’m thinking about D&D, then it’s easier to forget how my other big commitment is failing.
“Everything takes time,” Mom continues. “Yesterday was the first competition. You learn from it, and you grow. The same thing with this game—today will be your first time and everything won’t go perfectly and that’s okay.”
I nod and keep my eyes glued to my manual. I know she’s right, it’s a process and I’m sure I’ll mess up today. But all I can hear is her saying:You’re not good enough yet. Maybe, if you keep working, and try really hard, you’ll suck a little less. But not yet.
