Out of Step

xix. FIVE, SIX, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT!

While nobody particularly liked doing parades (at least not if they were a part of the band), Alana would have to say that they homecoming parade was her favorite, if she had to choose one. The winter parade was too cold (no matter how many layers she seemed to wear, her and her instrument both still froze), while the Memorial Day parade was hot enough to melt anyone. The homecoming parade was in October, the happy medium of weather days, and was mostly just kids and families from their school, so it tended to be laxer.

That's not to say she enjoyed the parade. Her section used this parade to pretty much goof off when they weren't playing, stopping at signs and lights and dancing with the percussion cadence, seeing who they could get to laugh.

No, but if Alana had to pick her favorite part about homecoming weekend, it was the trombone suicides.

They had started practices nearly a month ago, once the section leaders had figured out a routine and had been practicing once a week after school and anytime in between that they could squeeze in a quick run through. It was the one thing Alana had made sure she had attended all month. She didn't need to be taken out of the routine last minute.

It started raining halfway through the first quarter and the directors had them put their raincoats on.

"Why couldn't it have held off till after half time. It just had to keep up the tradition and rain for the third homecoming in a row," Cammie muttered from the metal seat above Alana, who had been muttering something to Ian and Ron, but stopped to grimace in agreement.

"With all the rain we've been playing in, it's no wonder none of us have gotten the flu or a cold," she said, brushing some of the raindrops off her brass instrument. "We'd die for band is all this is proving."

"I don't know if I'd go that for. There's a lot I'd do for band, that much has been proven in my three years," Rina said, huddling closer to Cammie and their friends in front of them. "But dying? I'd probably quit then."

"Don't let Mr. Lewis hear you say the Q word," Ron said, turning fully to face them. "He'll think you're thinking of quitting and start in on his spiel."

They all groaned. It wasn't so much of a spiel as him half-jokingly, half beggingly telling them all they couldn't quit band anytime he overheard them when they had joked about doing so.

"Hey," Ian said, tapping Ron and Alana's knees to get their attention. "Lucas and Brendon and waving us down."

It was ten minutes till the end of the second quarter is what she found out once she had followed the rest of her section out of the stands and then behind the stands.

"We're gonna practice through the suicides one more time, first slowly and then at normal pace," Brendon, the second of their section leaders, said.

"Just to be safe," Lucas added.

"Technically that's two more times," Alana muttered from her spot wedged between Ron and Andy. Their feet were shoulder width apart, pressed up against their neighbors' feet in an attempt to keep themselves stable. "Wait, with raincoats?"

Lucas and Brendon stared at each other before Brendon let out a half chuckle. "I'll just go see if Mr. Lewis has decided yet."

He set his instrument down and took off in a light jog back towards the front of the stands. Lucas took this opportunity to pick up the drumsticks that had also been left behind and begin tapping them.

"Give me those." Brendon was back, just as Lucas opened his mouth, taking the drumsticks from the blonde. "He said we're not wearing raincoats to preform so we'll just take them off now."

There was a collective excitement as they stripped the chunky outer wear, Alana doing a small dance as she wiggled it off and threw it slightly. It's not that the coats didn't help some, but they were more difficult to perform in.

"And then we can just put out hats on the coats for now," Lucas said, remembering the directors dislike for the fairly new hats to touch the ground.

"Lucas and I will stand out for the slow version and then we'll take our places when we do it at the actual speed.

They finished just as the rest of the band members began filing out of the stands heading to where they would be lining up.

Alana loved the thrill of performing for people, but the thrill of doing the trombone suicides for an audience was almost better. It was halfway through their halftime performance. They had performed movement two for the audience and had just stopped so they formed a large rectangle on the field and were sent to parade rest by the field commanders. They were only there for a few seconds though as they heard the stadium speaker cackle back to life.

Despite this being her fourth year doing it, Alana's hat snagged on a strand of hair as she yanked on it while running towards the front of the field. She was more worried about not being ready in time – despite the fact that they wouldn't start till everyone was set to lessen the chance of an injury – so instead of trying to untangle it, she yanked at the hat, ripping some strands from her head. She placed her hat in line with the rest, a good distance away from where her section was lining up, and joined them, bending down, so both her and her instrument faced the ground and checking to make sure she had turned the lock on her instrument so the slide wouldn't go flying out ­– something that had happened several times to people at rehearsals.

She could hear someone from the percussion banging two drumsticks together and one of her section leaders yelled out, "FIVE, SIX," before the whole section joined him with "FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT!"

Behind them, Alana could hear the band going crazy as they cheered her section on, each person moving with the beat in hopes of not hitting anyone or being hit by someone. Alana, herself, could only trust that that Ron and Andy wouldn't mess up and try to take her out with their instrument.

No matter what the rest of their routine looked like, they always ended with bows, starting from the middle two members, Brendon and Lucas in this case, and working their way outwards on each number.

"ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX," that was Alana's cue to bend down, her instrument just barely grazing the fake grass, "SEVEN, EIGHT, HUH!"

They all came up from the bow on that last HUH and before they even had time to enjoy the applause from the crowd, they were snatching up their hats and running back to their spots.

This was the only time that Alana wished her hair was short enough not to need the standard braids that they tucked up into their hats. Her first year, she had tried to take the time to actually put her hair back into the hat and her second year she had used about a thousand bobby pins to pin the braids up, only to have them fall out during the routine. By her third year she had just stopped caring, there just wasn't enough time. So this year, as she ran back to her spot with her instrument tucked under one arm, she haphazardly stuck the hat on her head, pulling the strap under her chin and making it to her spot just as she heard the band directors call them all to attention.

She was out of breath as she waited for the field commanders to start the song but couldn't stop smiling for most of the rest of the night. 

09.07.2020 I keep telling myself to post chapters and then forgetting. Expect a whole slew of chapters soon because I need to remember to post them before the wattys are over but I don't want to post them all in one day. Please enjoy the terribleness.