Marching season is out, but the competition is only heating up.
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Section leader applications for the next marching band season at Halston University are officially open, and percussionist Bay Rodriguez wants the role.
Bay's only competition is Ca...
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THURSDAY LUNCHTIME, I TAKE A detour to the Music Department on my way to the Mathematics building.
On the notice board outside the band room, in neat rows of white, either Mr. Scott or Keller has stapled plastic sleeves full of sheet music. I rise onto my tiptoes, one hand rifling around a clear file for the percussion section leader audition music.
My eyes flit over the sheet music, the two vertical bars of the percussion clefs, then the barrage of notes that we'll have to master by audition and interview week. So many flams. I hate it. It's called Amoretto.
In the percussion folder there's the option to audition either on the tenor or snare parts. For a moment I consider removing all the copies of the snare sheet music, just to delay Callum's practice by a day or so, and then the papers get plucked clean out of my hand.
I turn around with a withering smile. Ash blond locks, angular jawline, strong, straight nose and full lips that somehow make the hallway feel a touch darker, more smoky and illicit. He looks even more cherubic than usual today.
"Thanks for reserving me a copy," he says cheerfully.
"Vierra." That's what I get for even considering pettiness. A summons of the Devil. "May the best drummer win."
His warm brown eyes narrow arrogantly. "Not the best drummer."
"What?"
"Well, it's not about the best drummer, is it?" he says, one hand keeping his skateboard balanced vertically on its edge. "You can be a musical prodigy but being section leader is about leadership. Teamwork. A social role. Being supportive, confident, available."
Wow. Not at all patronizing.
Of course I know this already. Section leaders at Halston University are a precious part of the band culture. Choosing them is an investment into the rapport, discipline and dynamic of next year's marching band. It will make or break sections, which will make or break the band.
I know what Callum thinks of me. He thinks I'm a shrew, a social puppeteer, heartless—the whole anti-love, anti-people misconception. For the record: this is intentional, on my part.
"I can perform the emotional labor required by the job," I say, and as soon as Callum hears this he cracks a wry smile, as if my verbiage proves his point. I'm not relatable enough to be section leader. I have a Math lecture to get to. I fish out another copy of the Amoretto snare part and brush past him, the bare skin of my shoulder ghosting past his tanned forearm. He's warm like a candle, and I feel burned.
