“It’s…” I want to say it’s nothing and move on with rehearsal like we need to, but that’s a blatant lie. There’s way more than nothing between the color guard and percussion sections.
“We hate them,” Rosa tells them matter-of-factly. “And they hate us just as much.”
“Nah, they hate us more,” Madisyn says.
Addison nods in agreement. “It’s their life’s mission to make sure they beat us every chance they get. They thrive off watching us fail.”
“Which means they’re always thriving,” Devin adds, and the three of them glance around in confirmation.
“Are you serious?” Li asks. She adjusts her bright pinkglasses and glances around in horror at the others. Callie, Keira, and Deja look uneasy as well.
I take a deep breath and put down my flag. “Okay, here’s the deal. Our band is competitive.Reallycompetitive. We have a long history of winning grand champion trophies and getting straight Superior ratings at state, and that’s partially because of our competitive culture. Each of the sections wants to be the best, absolutely, but percussion and color guard…it’s gotten personal the last few years.”
Madisyn snorts. “That’s one way to say it. More like their section leader’s a prick.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing, even though I want to. She’ll get no arguments from me there.
“Brody and I have a history,” I continue to the new members, since the others already know this all too well. “He doesn’t respect color guard, and he never got over the fact that I won Most Valuable Member over him freshman year. Our sections have been battling it out ever since.”
A flicker of anger burns in my chest at the reminder of all the snide comments that our groups have exchanged, the nasty chant they came up with for us sophomore year, how they sabotaged us during our band field day last spring when we werethisclose to first place. There’s nothing I want more than to put them in their place. Just once, I want color guard to be seen as the best, instead of the section that’s pulling down the band every year.
“And that’s why it’s more important than ever that we nail our routines this year.” I glance to each member as I continue. “We’re going to show them just how amazing this color guard can be. We’ll take all the Superior ratings we earnand shove them down their throats so they never forget what losers they are.”
Deja’s eyes widen and Li takes a small step back. Only the returning members give small nods of approval. I don’t need to convince them.
“Uh, no pressure, I guess?” Callie says sarcastically.
I pick up my flag and try to shake off my emotions. I need to be focused, but not scary. “Don’t worry about them. All you need to worry about is learning our drills and routines and everything else will take care of itself. Okay?”
Someone laughs (sarcastically) but I’m not sure who. I’m hoping the other seniors—Madisyn, Addison, and Devin—will come to my aid, but they only watch the scene with detached expressions. I get the impression they’re planning to skate through senior year with minimum effort. The others look similarly unenthusiastic or incredulous.
Awesome. Another great day here at band camp.
I’m so grateful when we can take a break for lunch. As I walk outside to a cluster of picnic tables where Nova and I always sit, located between the school and the practice field, I try to remind myself that everything is going to be okay. The first days are rough no matter what, plus half of the guard is completely new. But that’s not going to stop me. This is my senior year—my last year—and Iwillbe the one to finally turn our color guard program around and get us the Superior ratings I know we’re capable of.
And if I win Most Valuable Member again my senior year? Well, that’ll just be an added bonus.
“Do you see that?” Nova asks as I sit. She points over at the football field next to the practice field. I have to stand and squint to see what’s going on, and I’m not the only one doing it.
“Is that Max running laps right now?”
“Yep. In ninety-degree heat.” She shakes her head.
I sit down and pull out my lunch. Somehow Mom had time to make my favorite—chicken salad with avocado chunks and crackers—despite her usual hectic schedule. If she was in my position, she’d already have the guard whipped into shape with enough time to sew everyone costumes and coordinating flags.
“Why is he doing that? Sire didn’t make him run laps as punishment or something, right?”
“No, Sire might punish himforrunning. He said he shouldn’t be exerting himself in the heat when we have to march all afternoon.” She shrugs like she couldn’t care less. “I heard Max lost a bet with Brody.”
“What kind of bet?”
“Who knows, probably something dumb. Did you already hear Max made a bet this morning with Mrs.Lewis about whether or not he could roll his feet in his boots, and she had to do a push-up when she lost?”
“But she’s old!” I cry. Mrs.Lewis must be at least sixty.
“That’s what I thought too, but she did it, kind of. Everyone thought it was hilarious.”
She doesn’t laugh, but I can tell she’s holding back out ofloyalty to me. I told her about how Max acted yesterday, and she promised to ignore him out of solidarity. I want to hold her to that promise even if it’s petty. I glance back over at the track and shake my head. One of the things that had bonded Max and me was that we were always both competitive to a fault. The rest of him might have changed, but it looks like that trait stayed the same.
