Out of Step

xxi. what's got your panties in a twist?

"Are you okay, Alana?" Laila asked, putting her sunglasses in somebody's open band locker as she fixed her ponytail.

"Yeah, why do you ask?" Alana pulled out her instruments, moving the slide to see if it needed to be oiled. It had been a few days since she'd been at practice.

"You've just been a little weird since homecoming," Laila responded, finally placing her sunglasses back on the top of her head, seemingly satisfied with her ponytail.

"I'm fine."

"And you've been missing a lot more rehearsals than usual," Eli chimed in, adjusting her clarinet reed.

"So?"

"So, what's up with you?" Eli asked, looking up from her instrument to make eye contact with Alana.

"Nothing!" She slammed the metal door of her band locker closed, grabbing the hoodie she had thrown on the ground and heading out of the cramped locker room. "There's nothing wrong with me! I'm perfectly fine!"

As she stomped out to the parking lot or practice, several of her band mates gave her side long glances or outright stared at her.

"What's got your panties in a twist?"

"Nothing!" Alana snapped whirring on Owen and her brother. Owen held up his hands up and took a step back. "Nothing's got my panties in a twist!"

Owen didn't say anything else, but after a minute Alex opened his mouth with, "glad to see you finally show up to a practice."

Alana scowled at him, ready to retort back, but didn't get a chance to say anything as Alex continued on.

"By the way, the directors want to see you before you go home. Either during the next break or after practice," he said, turning and heading towards his spot. Alana's scowl quickly morphed into a frown as she chewed on her bottom lip and, after a quick glance at the directors, headed towards her own spot.

Practice seemed to go by way faster than Alana was ready for and soon enough, while she was grabbing her stuff and hoping to make a clean getaway, Mr. Reed was standing in front of her.

"We need to talk to you Alana," he said, nodding over to Mr. Lewis, who was slowly coming down his skyjack.

"Oh, um, right. Alex mentioned something," she said, straightening up and then promptly dropping several drill sheets. "I'll be over in a second."

Alana debated the merits of trying to leave, but she really did love the band directors and didn't want to feel like she would have to avoid them for the rest of the season – which wouldn't be easy. So, after giving herself a pep talk and taking a few deep breaths, she finally collected the last drill sheet and straightened up again, heading to where the directors stood, Mr. Lewis still on the skyjack, which was now lowered.

They were in the middle of discussing something, but when they noticed Alana standing there, awkwardly gripping her binder, hoodie, and instrument, Mr. Lewis cut himself off with a, "oh, hi there Alana."

"Hello Mr. Lewis," she said, trying to keep her voice calm and collected. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out why the directors wanted to just talk to her, but she honestly couldn't come up with anything.

"I'm sure you know why we want to talk to you," he said, and Alana hesitated, pressing her brain one last time, before shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, but I really don't know." She chewed on her lip, her hands moving to pick at her fingernails, an old habit, before she stopped, gripping her things tighter instead.

The directors exchanged a glance and Alana's own eyes jumped between them and the assistant director who had just joined them.

"Alana, you're a good marcher and up until this year you've never had any problems," Mr. Lewis began, and Alana sucked in her lips, frowning and wondering where this was going. "But you've been skipping too many practices the past few weeks."