thinking, letting my body carry me through the show while I played my instrument.
During the final number, “Somewhere,” we marched a company front, shoulder to shoulder. I felt locked in with the whole ensemble, pushing our wall of sound straight at the audience, trying to knock AJ off his podium with what came out of my bell. The hair on my arms stood straight up and I had chills.
Our last note resonated across the field.
The crowd roared over the ringing in my ears.
On the sidelines, we jumped up and down and hugged one another.
“Freakin’ awesome !” Punk cheered.
“Whoo! High brass rules!” screamed Steve.
Shouts and whoops echoed through the band. AJ came over for high fives. “Incredible! You guys nearly took me out during that company front!” He laughed. “Elsie, I thought you were going to knock me over with what was coming out of your bell!”
I beamed.
We didn’t have a ton of time for celebrating, though, as we had to watch the two bands scheduled to perform after us. The Minutemen were supposed to have gone on last, and when it was their turn, the announcers came on and asked for a moment of silence and for our prayers to go out to those band members and their families. I wondered how the kids were doing, and if we’d find out.
Then all of the bands returned to the field. We stood in clumps according to our size and performance category while they gave out the awards.
For the parade competition, we hadn’t placed in our category. The Marching Minutemen, however, had—they took first. The stadium erupted in huge cheers for them.
Then it was time for field show. I fidgeted as they worked their way through the two categories below us. They reached our group and I held my breath.
“Third place, with a score of eighty-nine point three, are the Dover Dolphins!” On our left, a band from New Hampshire started screaming. Their drum major stepped forward and saluted the judges before taking the trophy.
The judge returned to the podium.
“Second place, with a score of ninety point one, the Reading Rockets!” My breath wooshed out. Two down.
“And in first place, with a score of ninety point four,” the judge began. I couldn’t inhale again, just stood, not breathing, clutching Sarah’s and Hector’s hands, “the Screaming Hellcats of—” but I didn’t hear any more. A scream bomb went off all around me. Hector pulled Sarah and me into a group hug.
We won! By three tenths of a point!!
I screamed too.
18
My parents found me back at the buses and congratulated me. My mom was weepy—the same way she gets every time I perform. Dad was his typical reserved self, but something seemed a little different about him. And honestly, I didn’t really care what it was. I was too busy checking out our shiny new trophy, squirting Silly String and dodging Silly String squirted at me (someone had thoughtfully packed an Emergency Celebration Kit) to care.
Mom and Dad hovered around the band parents, who made sure that we’d properly packed our uniforms before the stringy celebration began. Then, as I was standing with Steve and Punk, reliving the show for the zillionth time, my dad approached.
“We really need to get going, Elsie,” he said. “Mom and I will wait while you say your good-byes.”
I was confused. “What do you mean, you’ll wait?”
Steve gave me a quick hug and Punk slapped high fives with me, then they edged away. Dad’s face was red.
“Please get your things and we can walk over to the car together.”
Huh?
Then I realized—my father thought I was going to ride home with him and Mom! Uh, no way.
“I’m taking the bus back,” I explained.
“I’m going to speak with Mr. Sebastian about it now. Please go get your things,” he repeated.
My post-victory glow dimmed like a disappearing ghost.
“But I want to take the bus,” I said, trying to stay calm. Didn’t he get it? There’d be celebrating, and cheering, and passing the trophy around. I wanted to
During the final number, “Somewhere,” we marched a company front, shoulder to shoulder. I felt locked in with the whole ensemble, pushing our wall of sound straight at the audience, trying to knock AJ off his podium with what came out of my bell. The hair on my arms stood straight up and I had chills.
Our last note resonated across the field.
The crowd roared over the ringing in my ears.
On the sidelines, we jumped up and down and hugged one another.
“Freakin’ awesome !” Punk cheered.
“Whoo! High brass rules!” screamed Steve.
Shouts and whoops echoed through the band. AJ came over for high fives. “Incredible! You guys nearly took me out during that company front!” He laughed. “Elsie, I thought you were going to knock me over with what was coming out of your bell!”
I beamed.
We didn’t have a ton of time for celebrating, though, as we had to watch the two bands scheduled to perform after us. The Minutemen were supposed to have gone on last, and when it was their turn, the announcers came on and asked for a moment of silence and for our prayers to go out to those band members and their families. I wondered how the kids were doing, and if we’d find out.
Then all of the bands returned to the field. We stood in clumps according to our size and performance category while they gave out the awards.
For the parade competition, we hadn’t placed in our category. The Marching Minutemen, however, had—they took first. The stadium erupted in huge cheers for them.
Then it was time for field show. I fidgeted as they worked their way through the two categories below us. They reached our group and I held my breath.
“Third place, with a score of eighty-nine point three, are the Dover Dolphins!” On our left, a band from New Hampshire started screaming. Their drum major stepped forward and saluted the judges before taking the trophy.
The judge returned to the podium.
“Second place, with a score of ninety point one, the Reading Rockets!” My breath wooshed out. Two down.
“And in first place, with a score of ninety point four,” the judge began. I couldn’t inhale again, just stood, not breathing, clutching Sarah’s and Hector’s hands, “the Screaming Hellcats of—” but I didn’t hear any more. A scream bomb went off all around me. Hector pulled Sarah and me into a group hug.
We won! By three tenths of a point!!
I screamed too.
18
My parents found me back at the buses and congratulated me. My mom was weepy—the same way she gets every time I perform. Dad was his typical reserved self, but something seemed a little different about him. And honestly, I didn’t really care what it was. I was too busy checking out our shiny new trophy, squirting Silly String and dodging Silly String squirted at me (someone had thoughtfully packed an Emergency Celebration Kit) to care.
Mom and Dad hovered around the band parents, who made sure that we’d properly packed our uniforms before the stringy celebration began. Then, as I was standing with Steve and Punk, reliving the show for the zillionth time, my dad approached.
“We really need to get going, Elsie,” he said. “Mom and I will wait while you say your good-byes.”
I was confused. “What do you mean, you’ll wait?”
Steve gave me a quick hug and Punk slapped high fives with me, then they edged away. Dad’s face was red.
“Please get your things and we can walk over to the car together.”
Huh?
Then I realized—my father thought I was going to ride home with him and Mom! Uh, no way.
“I’m taking the bus back,” I explained.
“I’m going to speak with Mr. Sebastian about it now. Please go get your things,” he repeated.
My post-victory glow dimmed like a disappearing ghost.
“But I want to take the bus,” I said, trying to stay calm. Didn’t he get it? There’d be celebrating, and cheering, and passing the trophy around. I wanted to
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