Everyone goes silent as he pulls out his drumsticks and takes a deep breath.
Max is…insanely good. I’ve had a recording of the competition music for a while so I could learn the color guard choreography, and I’ve memorized it at this point. Max might as well be playing the percussion recording right now. He learned all this in aday?
An elbow nudges my side. “Wipe the drool from your mouth,” Nova whispers.
I duck my head in embarrassment, but I don’t pull myeyes from Max. I don’t care if the guy is on stage at a rock concert or standing in a high school marching band practice field, anyone who can play drums this well ishot.A quick glance shows me I’m not the only one in the band thinking the same. I’m livid with myself for reacting this way after how he treated me yesterday, but there are some things the human body just can’t fight.
By the time he gets to the last few phrases, it’s clear he’s showing off. He twirls one of the drumsticks in his fingers before hitting the final beat and slowly bowing.
“Damn,” someone whispers.
“Looks like there’s new competition for the MVM award this year,” another person behind me mutters.
That catches my attention. There’s no way I’m letting Max waltz into my band, disrespect me, and then take the award I’ve been working toward for years. Clearly no one else is worried about that, though. The band breaks out into raucous applause. In the distance, Sire and the assistant directors exchange looks.
“What the…” Brody says. “How’d you do that?”
Max shrugs. “You can choose which trombone you want to drink from. Maybe some people spit less while they play?”
Brody shifts uncomfortably. We’ve been transported back into elementary school and the days of the old-school double-dog dare. You can back down, but if you do, you lose your reputation with it.
“Dude, I’ll puke,” Brody replies quietly.
Max stares him down for a second and I think he’s actually going to make him do it. My whole body tenses in anticipation.
But then Max laughs and shoves Brody on the shoulder.“I’m just kidding, man! What kind of psycho do you think I am? I can’t believe you even agreed to that bet.”
Brody blinks and then starts laughing, which makes Max laugh louder, and soon the whole percussion section joinsin.
Nova glances at me. “I guess he fits right in, huh?”
I slump back, shove a cracker into my chicken salad, and push any lingering thoughts of him out of my mind. Yep, Max is fully indoctrinated into the percussion section now.
Chapter Three
The house smells delicious when I walk in through the garage door after band camp on Wednesday afternoon. I make a beeline to the kitchen, where a Crock-Pot filled with pulled pork sits. I open the lid and stir it, my stomach already churning for dinner. Like usual, I’m the first one home. Mom and Dad are both still at work and then they have to pick up my ten-year-old sister, Kelsey, from her latest summer camp.
I jump into the shower since we spent the majority of the day in the beating sun, learning our field placements while sweat bees swarmed my legs. Today wasn’t a whole lot better than the first two days. The guard is picking up the first song more, but only because I ride them constantly to pay attention and stay on task.
I know the minute the rest of my family gets home because of the stomping and slamming doors. Kelsey might be in dance camps, but she hasn’t learned how to walk quietlyyet.
“Hazel?” Mom’s voice calls up, just loud enough to be heard over the Veruca Salt song I have blasting in the bathroom.
“Just getting out of the shower. I’ll be down soon.”
“Okay, but hurry, I want to hear how today went!”
I dry my hair and take a deep breath. I’m not sure I’m ready for my mom’s enthusiasm. She’s been dreaming of my senior year the way some people dream of their kids going to Harvard or becoming astronauts.
When I get downstairs, Kelsey is sitting at the island with Mom, working on a gem suncatcher craft. Kelsey loves anything sparkly or girly.
“There’s our color guard captain!” Mom calls, as if I was named captain this morning instead of the beginning of summer. She’s changed into one of her 5K shirts and her dark curly hair looks pristine as always. I inherited the curls from her, as did Kelsey, though Mom is smart to keep her hair shoulder length since it’s easier to take care of. She claps her hands together, looking me up and down. “How was it today? Did you all make good progress? Are you leading your group to victory?”
I have to tap down the immediate irritation that rises at her excitement. She had such a perfect band experience in high school that she can’t imagine it going any differently for me.
“Mom, we’re not going to war, we’re just swinging flags around.”
Kelsey laughs and I grab silverware to set the table just so I have something to distract myself.
