Band Cramp

Posters adorned the tillage, a bold message asking "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS TRUCK?" in almost the same manner one would ask if anyone had seen their missing cat. Newspaper notifications had been left, articles written in the local Chronicle, and even a local news programme featured Tracey and Chase pleading the county to help search for their missing pit instruments which lay stashed aboard the vehicle, as well as their electronic equipment. Chase, as tight-fisted as ever, having earned the money from the town carnival, offered no reward but "their eternal thanks and humblest of performances", whatever that entailed.

As the days rolled on, no sign of the truck was reported. Gareth knew that if the truck wasn't found, they'd have no show to produce at Mansfield, their preliminary show performance needed to get them into the finals, that same evening. This would inevitably transform Chase into The Hulk, to kill all.

It'd been decided to proceed, as planned. Adonis were to turn up in the Sandy town centre and board the coach to Mansfield. Chase had it in his head that they still had until they reached the grounds to find the truck, otherwise they wouldn't have time to recover it and their remaining equipment for the show. Without the truck contents, they couldn't perform their whole show and they'd lose by default, at least according to Chase. Therefore, he elected to remain behind, along with Warren who had somehow ended up tangled in the whole scheme, and travel to the grounds later in the day, should the truck somehow turn up.

Gareth thought Chase was insane. The truck was lost. Whoever had stolen it clearly knew of the truck's contents. They planned to sell off the parts for scrap or to other bands or something. They had no chance.

Eventually, Saturday morning rolled around and Gareth approached his mother, having opened the front house door, ready to leave for their coach.

'You ready?' he asked.

Kerry-Anne had an immense floppy hat on top of her now bleached, hair, like a straw-hat had mated with a sombrero. She wore a flowery dress with it, which didn't suit her at all.

'Like my summer look?' she asked, posing with her sunglasses on.

'No,' Gareth earnestly answered.

'I bet Warren does, though, doncha?'

Gareth spun around to find Warren at the open door.

'Yeah, like I love the very summer, itself,' Warren answered, sweating and uncomfortable in the summer heat.

It had now hit September, but the summer sun was clearly here for the long haul, irritating Warren at every turn.

'Hey,' Gareth greeted.

'Hey, yourself,' Warren replied.

Next to Warren stood a police officer in black uniform and a high-visibility jacket plopped on top. His cap was peaked and his eyebrows immensely bushy. Gareth went to speak, before closing his mouth. He clearly recognised this officer from the very evening he had tried to steal the band equipment.

The police offer, stern and tone in a pudgy sort-of-way, narrowed his eyes at Gareth.
'You' he simply said.

'Me' Gareth replied, mockingly.

'Best not insult us officers. You could find yourself on the wrong side of the bars, if you know what I mean?' he threatened.

'Calm down, Matt. Those instruments were spares, anyway - Chase told me,' Warren chided. The officer known as Matt scowled in response as Warren turned back to Gareth. 'Shame they aren't the ones you guys need right now. Still, we're doing our part. Officer Matt Martins is helping with the investigation and findings of the truck.'

'Fat load of good it is. It's not even our proper jobs,' Matt complained, before Warren shushed him.

'Look, ' Warren continued back to Gareth, 'just wished to pass on one final good luck. Chase, Matt and I are staying for a while longer for any leads on your truck. I reckon you should perform even if you don't have all your stuff, otherwise you'll never know how well you can do. Keep that in mind. Anyway, I'll see you both at the competition grounds, later,' Warren explained.

'You drivin' up there? Got room for one more?' Kerry-Anne asked.

'The smart car... she can only carry two people,' Warren grimaced.

'But there's three of you,' Kerry-Anne smiled, looking as though she was pleased with herself for catching Warren out.

'Exactly,' Warren sighed, his face contorting at the thought of the crammed journey, ahead.

Kerry-Anne laughed, clearly not too bothered. She had a place on the coach, anyway, thanks to Gareth's efforts after the carnival. She'd even managed to get into the stands for free, without having to pay admission - she'd scored a coloured band for her wrist, much like the band members wore, themselves. Gareth had to hand it to her, when Kerry-Anne wanted something, Kerry-Anne would certainly get it!

'Cheers. We're heading to the coach now, so I'll look for you in the stands,' Gareth confirmed.

Chase emerged from around the corner, looking sweaty and alert.

'Another lead. Cambridge. Let's go, go, go!' he yelled.

'Sure. Maybe this one won't be another hotdog van,' Matt rolled his eyes, showing signs that they'd been at this all week.

'See you later, Gareth,' Warren saluted.

As they raced off, Gareth and Kerry-Anne headed off on their own journey to the town centre, Gareth with his obligatory cap, trumpet and a bottle of water, and Kerry-Anne with her large handbag of everything under the sun.

'Got some nice sandwiches when we're there. Meat paste. The beef kind you used ter like when you were li'l,' she explained.

Gareth shivered at the thought, remembering how he'd smile at Kerry-Anne when eating the sandwiches, only to spit the contents when she wasn't looking. He thought he'd gotten away from such disgusting fillings, but evidently they had made a return to torment him on what was to be a monumental day.

********************

Nathan was staring out the coach window by the time they'd hit the motorway. Gareth had decided to sit next to his best friend in the hopes that they'd catch up a bit, as Nathan had been a bit distant since Bob had disappeared from his life. However, Nathan had taken to examining the trees and fields in between spotting cars, instead.

'What do you think Darren's doing?' Nathan suddenly asked.

'Probably crapping himself,' Gareth responded, happy to at least have something to talk about.

'Literally, or figuratively?'

'Erm, I hope literally. That'd be funny,' Gareth chortled.

Nathan gave a slight smile in response.

To be fair on Nathan, he was probably feeling the effect of the truck thievery just as much as everyone else. It had been a grim meeting after their carnival and parade fun. Kara was in tears, Siobhan was swearing like a trooper, and Old Man Sam looked like he was ready to deck his son in, muttering about being a failure of a corps leader. The band morale was at a low point, but many were trying to remain optimistic, as evident by Ealga organising a crass sing-along at the back, somewhere.

'Lofty went to mow, went to mow a meadow, Lofty and his dog named Maggie, went to mow a meadow!' she sang, poking fun at Lofty's shout outs that Margaret Thatcher did the country some good. Ealga didn't agree, pointing out how Lofty needed the very financial benefits she wouldn't have allowed. Lofty sulked, after that.

'I reckon it doesn't matter if the truck isn't found. We worked to get here, so we should work just as hard and show that crowd what we're made of, even if we don't have the electronics, most of the big flags and shiz,' Gareth sighed.

'Yeah, I suppose...' Nathan muttered. 'I just wanted this last show to be a big bang, you know, in memory of Bob. Not this limp ended finale.'

It made sense to Gareth, and he noticed that despite Kerry-Anne being on the coach, enjoying herself somewhere near the back, Nathan's mum hadn't made it, possibly to avoid any further memory of Bob, right now.

'Wait, is this your last show for good?' Gareth asked.

'Yeah. Mum... she...' Nathan trailed off.

'I get it. I ain't even decided what I'm doing, yet,' Gareth responded, thinking about it for the first time.

It was a hard decision. If he left at the end of today, he'd have no obligation to return. He would have finished that year's show of video game music, and he'd be free. On the other hand, he felt he owed Adonis so much. Without them, he'd never have learned of his mistakes properly, and how much of a twit he'd been. He connected more with Nathan and less with Darren, too, which had done him the world of good. He even felt he'd made a few friends in the name of Stefan and potentially Ealga. He just didn't know what to do.

His thoughts were interrupted by a flying cup of cola, which whizzed past him and smacked the head of whoever was sitting in front.

As soon as Gareth realised who it was, his anger dissipated into concern, as the cup was clearly intended for Yammers Junior, not Gareth.

'Heads up, son! Wait, too late,' Yammers laughed to a chorus of people on the back seats.

Gareth couldn't help but feel this was somewhat wrong. Yammers had given his son a pretty hard time since the issues with his marriage had made themselves clear. After all, it was Yammers Junior's fault for telling his mother, but that didn't make it wrong in any way.

'Poor Yammers Junior,' Nathan frowned in response, as the coach finally pulled into the service station pit-stop, in order to stretch their legs.

As they all exited the coach, Gareth walked up and down to work off the cramp in his legs, whilst Nathan decided to head in and grab some food. Kerry-Anne lit up a cigarette, as if suffocating without it on the coach, and gave a deep and meaningful sigh as she blew smoke from her mouth.

'Come on, join in, Michael,' Melanie, the mellophone player, pleaded.

Yammers Junior shook his head in response.

'It's not as if ol' misery guts will rally up some fun. Ignore him, he's being a sour puss,' Yammers waved a hand at his son.

There was a chuckle in response and the group broke away from Yammers Junior, kicking the empty plastic bottle between themselves in a game of who could keep it in the air the longest.

'You know how to discipline your son,' Kerry-Anne smiled with a cigarette in her mouth, 'care to discipline me, next?' Her tone was sultry and Gareth shuddered at the thought of his mum coming onto Yammers, instead of choosing to help Yammers Junior.

'Sometimes, you gotta stand up for yourself,' Gareth advised, putting his hand on Yammers Junior's shoulder as they walked through the services doors.

'Pft,' Yammers Junior groaned.

Not satisfied with the response, Gareth cleared his throat.

'What's up?'

'Nothing, really' Yammers Junior said through a sad smile, which Gareth had learnt to recognise as "everything's wrong".

'Come on, it's not all bad. Could be worse - you could be me,' Gareth chuckled.

Yammers Junior uttered a "yeah" in response, to which Gareth initially felt offended over, but decided it was best to take it in his stride if it would cheer the teenager up. At last, Yammers Junior opened up.

'Well, it's my mates back home. I never get to see them. Every weekend, when we're off school and that, I'm at band. I go away on band camps when they go to the cinema. We're at competitions when they're having a games night. They hate band and I'm starting to, as well,' he explained.

'What's your favourite thing about band?' Gareth asked, curious as to why Yammers Junior even bothered if it made him so miserable.

'That I get to see my family. Screw games and girls. I'm just happy I get to see dad... and mum,' he sniffed. Gareth understood, entirely. 'Anyway, if you don't mind...' Yammers Junior interrupted, pointing his thumb to the toilets.

'Sure,' Gareth responded, 'I'll leave you to it. Keep chugging along, you hear? Don't let it get you down, too much.'

Kerry-Anne pushed past Gareth, Yammers in tow, looking for the nearest coffee to have together. Sometimes he wondered who was ruder; his mum or himself. Gareth chased after her, however, finding her at the nearest unbranded coffee kiosk. She tutted at the extortionate prices.

'I'll get it. Don't mind me, gonna draw out some cash. Be right back,' Yammers explained, running to find the nearest cash point.

Gareth grunted in response.

'Who's that girl in the wheelchair?' Kerry-Anne asked, having turned around to examine the services station, in the meantime.

'Elisa,' Gareth replied.

'Why's she marchin', eh?'

'She's marching,' Elisa snapped, from somewhere to their left, 'because she wants to. I'm perfectly capable. The same goes for Lofty, before you ask.'

Kerry-Anne gave a humph of irritation before walking off towards to the toilets.

'Ignore her, she always speaks before she thinks,' Gareth apologised.

Elisa's serious face emptied and she chuckled.

'Don't worry about it. It's just annoying when people underestimate me because I'm locked in wheels. I like playing with their heads.'

With that, Elisa rolled off to find something to eat, leaving Gareth by himself, watching the crowd of younger members play around by the fast food tables; Bruno Lars had a small top hat and a pack of cards with him, seemingly performing all manners of magic tricks, whilst Kelsey watched on in awe. Gareth waltzed over.

'Hey, Gareth,' Kelsey smiled, 'pick a card. Bruno's well good!'

Bruno turned to Gareth and produced his deck of cards, a toothy grin upon his face. With a shrug, Gareth picked the 4 of Hearts, before placing it back in the deck.

'I'm gonna find your card. Prepare to be funked out,' Bruno explained, shuffling the cards at an almighty pace. Several cards flicked out of the deck, which Kelsey picked up and returned to Bruno, to continue shuffling. Eventually, he stopped and counted them. With a twinkle in his eye, Bruno pulled out a card. He licked his lips and grinned.

'That's the Queen of Clubs,' Gareth announced.

'Yup! That's your card, right?'

'Erm, no.'

'Oh,' Bruno replied, crestfallen.

'We could try again?' Gareth confirmed, feeling somewhat sympathetic towards Bruno.

After several more failures, and once Yammers Junior had been drawn to the novelty, Bruno finally produced Gareth's chosen card.

'Got it in one,' Bruno smiled, 'which is important if I'm gonna become an entertainer when I'm older.'

'Bruno's jokes are so bad, they're good,' Yammers Junior shook his head with a sad smile.

'It ain't a joke if I mean it. And anyway, I've got some better bad jokes,' Bruno grinned.

Intrigued, Gareth stayed for a while longer.

'What do you call a fish with no eyes? A fsh!' Bruno purred, proudly.

There was a collective groan, which Gareth joined in with as soon as he realised the joke.

'I'll leave you to it,' Gareth waved.

'What sound does a nut make when it sneezes? Cashew!' Bruno called after him, leaving the teenagers laughing at how awful the entertainment was.

Just then, a sweaty figured bounded into the service station, much to Gareth's surprise. It was Chase. He took one look at Gareth, then gave a silent "yes!", before running off somewhere else. Warren and Matt both wheezed in, somewhere behind.

'What's going on?' Gareth asked.

Warren tried to respond, but was in no condition to talk properly.

'Oh my God... Brett?!' Officer Martins exclaimed, catching his breath.

'Is that... Matt?!' Big Gay Brett squealed, a cardboard cupped latte in-hand.

Big Gay Brett bounded up to Matt. They both gave each other a close hug, before kissing each other on the cheeks. Gareth rather thought other cheek kissing could have happened at another point.
'Since when did you march with Adonis?' Matt asked, excitedly.

'Oh, since the start of last year or so. I see you're still in the police force. Still got those 'cuffs you used on me th-'

'Yeah, yeah...' Matt blushed, embarrassed.

It was clear they had a history, but Gareth didn't wish to impede on their conversation. Luckily, however, Gareth's questions were answered by the overhead announcement, which suddenly blared through the service station.

'Adonis Drum and Bugle Corps, your truck has made its valiant return!' Chase called through the loudspeakers.

Cheers echoed around the service station at the relief that their band vehicle had finally been located in time for their shows. It was incredible and made Gareth smile to himself that he could finally deliver the show he wanted.

'The truck may be battered, but its spirit lives in us. Finish your food and go - we've a show to march!' Chase continued, before the sounds of struggle interrupted.

'We're sorry for the inconvenience caused by this announcement,' came a younger woman's voice, before Chase seemed to grab the microphone back in a further struggle and curse blindly through the speakers.

'Oh well, I guess... Adonis are banned from another service station... May as well make... the best of it and head out, now,' Warren mused, catching his breath.

'Where was the truck?' Gareth asked.

'In some ditch... just outside Cambridge. Nothing was stolen, just the... truck itself. We reckon the culprit gave up... after speeding it off the road.'

'Culprit? You know who did it?'

'Oh yes, we have a solid idea,' Warren replied with a twinkle in his eye.

It didn't matter now, of course, as now they could focus on the show ahead without any concern of disqualification, lack of instruments, or inexperience. They were ready to march on.

********************

Prelims. The semi-final show. Late morning had arrived in the waning glow of the sunlight. Mansfield stadium was huge compared to the previous two stadiums, and sported multiple layers of varying coloured seats. Floodlights sat at the corners of the field, waiting for the evening to hit, whilst the crowd slowly grew and grew. The multicoloured mess of an audience sat waiting for Adonis to enter the field, which Gareth became all too aware of as he faced them from backfield. Uniformed visually, as well as in emotion, Gareth and Adonis faced their crowd with their battle faces on.

'All the way from the town of Sandy, in Bedfordshire, please welcome to the field... Adonis Drum and Bugle Corps!' the announcer called down the loudspeakers.

They marched on, Gareth's adrenaline rushing as with the previous two shows. The pit set up. The marching members placed themselves in their starting positions. Chase turned on the box to salute. It was go time.

The show whizzed by in a blur. Gareth raced around the field, focusing on the music where possible, and on his legs to keep him up-right. He ducked at the right time when Kelsey flew passed him with her flag, and even made his sets, bar one or two. It was the best show he'd marched, and by the time he stood there, panting and sweating at its zenith, staring at the crowd for approval, Gareth felt nothing could push him down now.

There was one person who was clearly intent on keeping his eyes on Gareth, however, in the crowd. As Gareth stared up, still stuck in their final pose of their show, the man stared back at him. His scruffy beard was familiar, and Gareth soon realised this was the same person who had given him the eye at the carnival field. It wasn't just that, however, the man seemed eerily familiar...

'Dad,' Gareth whispered under his breath.

'Please give it up for Adonis!' the announcer called at Chase's salute.

The crowd cheered them off and Gareth had to break eye-contact from his father, who had been situated in the middle of the crowd. All he wanted to do, however, was break away from Adonis and run to find the man, but he held firm until they'd finally reached their coach.

'Well done, my chumlies!' Mandy whooped, jumping up and down in unison to the band's cheering.

'With a performance like that, we'll break through to finals, yet!' Chase smiled. 'In the meantime, enjoy yourselves and be merry. There is a drum major only retreat for the prelims scores. This will be undertaken in approximately an hour from now. Once the scores have been announced, we will discover whether or not we have climbed the mountain to finals. There are ten bands here, today. We are after a top seven placement. Until then, vamoose!'

Nathan fist-bumped Gareth, whilst Stefan gave them both a high-five.

'Oi, oi, savaloy,' Yammers chuckled, waving to a figure approaching them with murderous eyes.

The woman wasn't obese by any means, but was certainly above average in size. She had a bush of red hair, curled and falling down the sides of her face, whilst the rest was pulled back. Her skin was unnaturally tanned and her poncho red, above flat shoes. Whoever she was, she clearly hadn't much in the way of matching style, but seemed to think highly of herself.

Stefan shrugged at Gareth, whilst Nathan shook his head, confused.

'You cretin, get here!' she boomed in a shrill voice.

Gareth worriedly pointed to himself, hoping this wasn't some sick joke Chase had pulled on him to avoid further contact with his father.

'Mum!' Yammers Junior called out in joy, as if he hadn't seen her for a long time.

'Michael, has this brute been behaving?' Sharon spat, finally coming to a stop in front of her son.

'Dad's been a bit of a bully, mum,' Yammers Junior smiled, sadly.

'Lofty, you know I've always backed you up in a fight? Now it's your time to help me, here!' Yammers wailed.

'Yammers is a decent bloke. We have a smoke and a laugh together, but he means well,' Lofty defended Yammers.

'Atta Lofty, I knew I could rely on you. Sometimes I feel you're the only bloke who has anyone's back, in this corps.'

'People may laugh at me, but I ain't no push over. I'll always fight for those who deserve it,' Lofty assured.

Just then, Tracey schmoozed up.

'Is this the hussy I've come here to lay eyes on?' Sharon growled, pulling the poncho further around her shoulders. The venom in her tone was clear and Gareth wished for nothing more than to get away.

'Probably,' Kelsey replied, 'Tracey always finds a way to either use those around her, or hurt them.'

Hearing this made Gareth feel proud, as Kelsey finally stood up for herself, even if it wasn't yet to her bullies at school.

'Coffee doesn't count, either,' Yammers defensively replied, thinking about the earlier incident with Kerry-Anne, 'especially if no coffee was even drank, in the end.'

'So what did you do, instead?' Sharon snarled.

'Well, I, uh, got some cash out o' the machine,' Yammers responded, stumbling over his words. It probably sounded better in his head, Gareth thought.

'I'm sure Yammers pays well,' Tracey winked to Sharon.

'What's going on?' Chase blared, hearing the commotion.

Before anything could get any more heated, Gareth backed away, his thoughts locked onto his father. He had to find him.

'Gotta run. I'll see you later,' Gareth shouted to both Nathan and Stefan, before proceeding to run back towards the stadium in full uniform.

Eventually, after plenty of pushing past other people, Gareth laid eyes on his round and greying father, leaning against the side of the stadium, eating a hot dog in one hand and sporting a beer can in the other.

'Dad?' Gareth gasped, approaching the man.

'I knew it. Jus' had to be cheer,' Birch replied, his words somewhat slurred from whatever bizarre accent he sported, as well as possibly the beer. He paused and corrected himself, 'I mean, sure. I had to be sure.'

And then Gareth didn't know how to continue. He'd often thought of all the questions he'd ask his dad should he finally meet him and yet, here Gareth was, silent. Words alluded him as he just stared, spluttering at the man who remained the same from his memories... except with a dark grey crop of hair atop his head, and a chin of full, bushy beardy delight.

Birch Firkins cocked his head for Gareth to follow him, leading him to somewhere at the edge of the stands. Making sure no one was looking, he then pushed aside a wooden crate, revealing a crack in the wall. He pulled out another beer can and handed it to Gareth, who examined the can with caution. After all, he hadn't seen his old man in years, and then suddenly he was there, at Gareth's show. At last, the questions began to flow back to Gareth's brain. What was the deal? Was he safe to be around? Was this beer somehow toxic?

'What gives?' Gareth finally croaked up.

Birch leant against the wall, once more, and loudly belched.

'Whir do you suppose goes into these things?' he asked, examining the tin, which Gareth now realised was "Lager Than Life".

'Seriously? Lager or your kid, and you go for lager?' Gareth buckled in irritation, which arose within the pit of his stomach, as per usual.

Birch looked at Gareth and gave a look of sorrow and regret.

'Sorry, son. I bet yer angry with me. I undershtand, like. I got sick of the life with your mam and...' Birch's conversation drifted somewhat, until finally picking back up with understandable words, 'and yeah, I've come to check up on the gloves. Um, I've come to check up on you, I mean, my loves.'

Gareth listened to his words carefully, trying to take it all in. He felt angry and somewhat disappointed that his father was a bit tipsy after turning up again out of the blue. If this was the one and only chance he'd get, then he'd have to take it with both his hands... and not use them to strangle his dad.

'Hang on, your "loves"? What do you mean?' Gareth asked, quizzically.

There was an awkward pause as his dad regarded the question with immense caution. He took a sip of his lager, looked about a bit, then continued.

'I've lived an unfulfilling life and I may've put it about a bit, if yer get me,' Birch slurred, looking a little upset with himself.

Gareth's mind was blown.

'You mean, there's other kids out there like me? You walked out on others?!' Gareth was in disbelief.

'Pumpkin like that. Erm, something, I mean. I ain't been a good father, I admit. I was a selfish barman, I mean... yer know what I mean. I did lots of walkin' down me own path.'

'So why now, dad? Why come back now?' Gareth fumed.

'Prostate cancer. I got prostate cancer,' he quietly replied. 'Figured I may not have that much time left. Figured I'd been nothing but shellfish... uh, selfish. So I wanna see all my kids one last time, just once, and apologise fer how I weren't ever there for 'em. I'm sorry, Gavin.'

'Gareth,' Gareth replied, feeling winded.

'Gareth,' Birch corrected.

It was a heavy blow. Gareth was meeting his father for the first time since he was younger, only to discover his father may not have much time left to live, providing treatment wasn't a fixable alternative. Gareth felt both sad and yet somewhat happy that his dad had made the effort to see him one last time, to watch him today, of all days.

'Anyway, got yer mam's number from the ol' phone book. Went to the carnival on the off and found ya. Asked one of them uniformed lot and drove here. Been tryin' to call... all... meek,' Birch stammered, before shoving the last of his hotdog in his mouth to chew, loudly.

'Cheers for, you know... watching me today,' Gareth calmly responded, watching his father chew.

'It's fine. You're my... shun,' Birch replied, probably intending it to sound like son, than shun.

'So...' Gareth started, trying to pick the right phrasing, 'you're leaving, soon?' Gareth asked.

Birch nodded, before shuffling forward and embracing his son in a close hug. It was an odd, but soothing feeling of warmth and tears. His father began to quietly sob, making Gareth feel more awkward than he'd ever been. The smell of alcohol clung to Birch's clothes, which Gareth endured for the duration of the hug. Eventually, after a lifetime of awkwardness, Birch let go.

'What you doin' in some marching hand, anyway?' Birch asked, wiping away his tears.

'Well,' Gareth responded, trying to find his words, 'community service, at first. Now I just...' Gareth trailed off, at a loss for further sentences.

He continued going to band practise to make his mother proud, and to march in his dad's name. Now that he'd met his dad, he felt nothing but disappointment, whilst his mother finally felt somewhat proud of Gareth. He'd done what he felt he needed to do with Adonis, as had Nathan. He'd made his decision.

'You gonna keep marshing?' Birch steadied himself.

'No. This will be my last show. You came to watch me at my last show and that means the world to me, dad,' Gareth replied.

'As long as you remember me... otherwise I'll die for good. Still got tha' mad dallia?' Birch smiled.

Gareth looked confused for a moment, before realising his dad meant his medallion. Gareth nodded.

'Helps me get through the days.'

'Stole it from some ol' museum gift shop when we visited Shpain. Our only holiday ash a family. Pro'ly too young ter remember. That'll be my memory for you to shleep. Um... keep.'

'Yeah.'

Birch smiled a drunken smile and raised his lager can into the air.

'To the Firkins family,' he toasted.

'To us,' Gareth confirmed, raising his can.

He watched as his dad downed as much of the canned alcohol as possible, whilst Gareth put his can down on the nearby crate, unbeknownst to his father.

'Drum majors, please step to the front!' a loudspeaker announcement came.

Taking Gareth by surprise, not realising the hour had drifted by already, he turned up to the speakers above the stadium, to hear them better beyond their echo. Gareth realised Chase must be out there, ready to receive the scores for the preliminary show. Gareth was all nerves as he listened, his father also turning his ear to above.

The crowd went wild as the drum majors stepped forward out on the field, somewhere outside of Gareth's vision.

'In tenth place, with a score of 61.08 out of 100, The Blues!' several paltry cheers met this, which continued on after every band was announced. 'In ninth place, with a score of 65.40, Rutherford Phoenix! In eighth place, with 66.10, The Cavalry. In seventh place, with 68.24, The Knights in White. In sixth place, with 74.37, Telford Scouts. With a score of 74.80 and in fifth place...'

This was crazy! Where were Adonis? Were they disqualified, again? It was tense, nerve-wracking, even. They couldn't have done this well, surely?

'Perfect Cadence! In fourth place, with a score of 75.01, in the big boy's league, it's Adonis!'

An almighty whoop erupted from Gareth at that moment, a wide smile spreading across his face.

'80.90, in third position, are the Falmouth Fighters! Second place, with a score of 81.00, that's 81.00... Symbiosis! Which means our Prelims victors are 87.50 - The Falcons!'

'Them Falcons are tripe,' Birch sniggered. 'Heard them birdier... uh, earlier. They ain't that good.'

'Adonis is where it's at,' Gareth smiled.

Gareth stayed for several more minutes, before he shook hands with his dad in closure. He turned to stroll back to the coach, slowly, before giving one final look back at Birch, who raised another can to Gareth. With a sad smile, the kind that Mandy or Yammers Junior would give, he turned and left his father for good.