Band Cramp

Finals. This was it. Everything had been working up to this point in the season. Every rehearsal, every visual, every run through had led to this performance. Ten drum and bugle corps having competed in similar circumstances, each one with their own methods, but the same determination.

Chase led Adonis to the back of the evening field, where the skies faded to a dark blue and the floodlights glared down at them, pounding out a white light through each of its polka-dotted bulbs. The grass was dry, but somehow glistened under the lights and made the field feel somehow magical. They had performed breath exercises for the past hour, preparing themselves for the show ahead. Adrenaline electrocuted the insides of Gareth, flowing through his blood and pushing him into a state of full alert.

'F warm up. Everyone arc around me,' Chase simply commanded.

They did so, everyone standing still with their horns across their chests and awaiting Chase's next orders. Lofty was normally at the front, setting up the pit, but he now stood with the percussion, who were ready to warm up next to the brass. He had the job of wheeling Elisa onto the field with the rest of the marchers. Somehow, despite standing still on the spot, Lofty gave a great wobble and tumbled backwards. Placing his face into his palm, Chase shook his head.

'Sorry, boss,' Lofty laughed like a dying raccoon, deflating from trapped excess air.

'Just get up and don't do it in the show,' Chase scowled.

Their F warm up marked the start of something beautiful. Six notes of increasing resonance and volume, first light and airy, before becoming dark and rounded. Just as Gareth felt himself get into it, Chase cut them off, nodding to himself.

'We may not have props and field pieces like the others, we may not have the amount of members as most other corps, but by God do we sound like angels,' Chase gave an unnatural grin. 'Now get out there and win at least one trophy!'

Gareth felt nervous, not just from the show ahead, but from how insane Chase's expression had become. His face was contorted with determination and his eyes were bulging like Nicholas Cage on Red Bull. Gareth decided his attention was best focused on the field, in front of him.

'Marching in from Sandy, Bedfordshire... Adonis Drum and Bugle Corps!' the announcer cheered, with the crowd soon following suite.

Gareth stood firm on the field, waiting for Chase to climb his box and salute the crowd, signalling the start of when the judges could mark them. He'd always been told that the general effect judges sat in the glass boxes nearest the top, middle of the stadium stands. The judges that marked marching, as well as the individual band sections, were scattered across the field.

Chase turned, punched his chest, then brought his hand to his forehead in salute.

'Adonis Drum and Bugle Corps, you may commence your show in competition,' the loudspeaker confirmed.

Suddenly, an invisible force punched Gareth in the stomach with a fist of nerves. Gareth inhaled a deep breath - it was important he wasn't breathing heavily before he reached their second piece of music, otherwise he'd be far too out of breath to play properly.

With a wave of Chase's hands, they began their show.

Part 1, "Bombing Mission" from Final Fantasy VII, went off without a hitch. By this point in the year, Gareth knew their opening number inside and out. It may have started slow, with a strong build up from the battery section, but it ended in a fast and furious tune. He watched Lofty gasp as he raced past him with Elisa's wheelchair, before they finally halted in preparation for their second piece of music.

Part 2, the Halo theme from Halo, was smooth and calm. Gareth felt his heart slow as he flowed with the melodic piece. At one part, one of his favourites, they all put their instruments by their sides and sung for a brief bit, their hands on their chest. As if the sky heard their call, trickles of rain patted down, as if to cool the atmosphere of adrenaline and battle on the field, below. Gareth relished this rain - anything to calm his body temperature from overheating beneath his thick uniform and sweating face.

Soon, as the rain starting to fall more freely, they reached Part 3, "Nintendon't" - their collection of music from various Nintendo games, with a bit from Sonic the Hedgehog. This part was all over the place, but Gareth found this section the most fun of all; every few bars of music were different, and they were bouncing around the field with fun visuals, constantly. At one point, Gareth swung his arm in front of him and pretended to shoot, to the Duck Hunt theme. It was all a lot of fun, and always sad when it was over. But over it soon was, and Gareth only had one part left to march.

Part 4, the Metal Gear Solid theme from Metal Gear Solid, was hectic. This was definitely the part Gareth knew the least, and was somehow the most exhausting part of all. The best for last, so they say. Gareth's shins ached like crazy from his continuous roll-step. He had to pull through, though. Sure, it'd be easy to stop roll-stepping and save his legs some pain, but then his music would suffer, as the roll was needed to cushion the impact between his body and lips. He struggled through and buzzed down the mouth piece, his lips tired and his arms shaking from holding his trumpet up, level with the crowd.

And then, of all things, the very judge which had disqualified them at Leicester, appeared before Gareth. He stood there, talking into his Dictaphone, recording a conversation to help him tally the scores for the show, later. Except he was right in Gareth's marching path. He was right there.

Now, remember to smack down a judge if they're in your way, Gareth remembered practically everyone in Adonis telling him. He grinned. Ploughing forward, Gareth elbow-barged the Brummie judge out of his way.

'Some excellent aggression shown on the field, Adonis...' Gareth heard the judge respond, down his Dictaphone, before being drowned out by the musical ensemble.

And then it was over. It was all over. Gareth stood there, head held high, their show finally done and dusted for good.

'Give it up, for Adonis!' shouted the loud speakers to Chase's salute.

The crowd cheered in celebration, causing a smile to spread across Gareth's face. He fist-bumped Nathan, who finished the show next to him, and they both smiled to the crowd ahead.

Yammers Junior, beating his bass drum, signalled for them to march off in time. Gareth spotted his mum in the crowd cheering along with Warren, Officer Martins, Sadie's dad Jim, and even Stefan's family. Everyone was cheering them on.

It was all out of their hands, now. They knew they'd never win, but if they maintained their placement, Gareth knew he could go home proud of himself, more than anything else.

They gave a celebratory clap on one another's back as they reached their coach, once more. Everything was surprisingly low-key, compared to their reaction of earlier, after the preliminary show.

'You all have made me proud, today. The judges will decide our fate, now. In the meantime, we will await retreat, where we will march on in single-file along with every other drum corps, and then wait on the field for the final scores,' Chase explained, his head held high and gazing at something in the distance.

The rain slowed to nothing more than drizzle, giving way to the petrichor of nature. Gareth didn't mind, though - he felt refreshed after that "clearing up shower", as Dave had always called it.

'We should watch the remaining three corps from the side fence, Chase. It will not change our score, now. We wish to know how well The Falcons will perform,' Tina Gomez, the colourguard instructor, proposed.

Chase looked at her for a moment with absolute bafflement, before conceding.

'We will reconvene our legion of troops once those dunderheads have performed. Retreat will await,' Chase complied.

Excited, but weary, Gareth followed the rest of the brass to the side fence of the field, where the Falmouth Fighters warbled their performance. It may not have been the best perspective to view the show, which would explain why no one else was crowded around the fence but Adonis, but it was worth seeing what The Falcons had to offer.

'Gareth, there you are! That was a fun show. I'm not sure I got it, but it looked good. Best thing you've ever done,' Kerry-Anne whooped, finding Gareth at the fence.

'Mum?' Gareth replied.

'Yeah?' Kerry-Anne squinted.

'Thanks,' Gareth smiled, as her support meant ever so much to him, in a way he couldn't ever describe in words. Just for her to approve of the performance was all Gareth wanted, right now, and decided to throw himself at his mother in a hug.

Kerry-Anne awkwardly pushed Gareth away after a few moments, feeling a bit embarrassed.

'A little birdy told me Birch was here,' she coldly responded after several seconds. Gareth frowned. 'It's okay. Officer Martins is going to keep him away from me, like, so just as long as he doesn't try anything.'

Birch had caused a lot of hassle for Kerry-Anne and whilst Gareth was sure that Kerry-Anne was also a major contributor to their break-up, he could see why she and Birch would never make up or respect one another. In their eyes, the other was a depressant complainer who was never happy.

'Sure. You gonna stay in the stands with Warren?' Gareth asked.

'Yup, we're gonna watch the scores,' Warren smiled, approaching Adonis with Officer Martins.

'...Unfortunately,' Matt Martins continued.

'Oh come off of it, you had a day of watching me, babe,' Big Gay Brett winked to his acquaintance/friend/fling.

'True, true,' Matt blushed, 'just as long as none of you members come close enough to steal some o' my pepper spray, again. When I find out who did that, I'll have 'em.'

Old Man Sam whistled Do The Hustle innocently next to the fence.

'Speaking of watching things, we'd better head back up to the stands, or we'll lose any kind of seat that's left,' Warren flustered, checking his antiquated wrist-watch.

Gareth bid them goodbye, before turning back to the fence with the other Adonis marching members.

'So, I've gotta admit, you've had balls to stick the season out, Gareth,' the Irish tone of Melanie the mellophone player greeted, 'but will you be willin' to march another season with us? Do it all again for the sake of teamwork and a summer o' fun?'

'No,' Gareth responded, following through with his earlier decision. This took Melanie by surprise. 'It's not that I haven't enjoyed my time in Adonis, since I have. It's also not all been peachy; you guys gave me hell at the start, the show is a lot of hard work, and you give up every weekend for the sake of the show. It's just... I don't want to do another year. I've done my time, I've had my fun, next year is time to move on.'

'Yer crazy,' Melanie shook her head, placing her hands on her hips, her shako cradled beneath her left arm.

'I'll kill to march another season,' Dave violently interrupted, 'if I ever had to. Marching is my life. Who else would I go drinking with at the weekends, after practise?'

'So you're not marching, next year? That's sad. I'll miss having another trumpet player to march with,' Sadie frowned.

'You're not marching, Gareth?' Kelsey gasped.

Soon, most of Adonis had caught wind of the news and had grilled Gareth over his decision, most trying to convince him to stay whilst the rumbles of the Falmouth Fighters ceased and the dark tones of Symbiosis began.

'Are you sure I can't lure you back? I can be very... persuasive,' Tracey cooed, causing a shiver down Gareth's spine.

'You're no angel, and I've always said to avoid the temptations of the devil,' Chase spat, his tone angry at his daughter for perhaps the very first time, having become savvy to Tracey's behaviour from the incident with Yammers.

Gareth felt satisfied, at last.

'I've made up my mind, Adonis,' Gareth affirmed, nodding with Nathan at his telling expression to stick to his guns.

'Whatever,' Chase growled, turning away as if perturbed by something.

Before curiosity swept Gareth's decision to pursue Chase's reaction, The Falcons finally marched onto the field in preparation of their show.

Darren Johnson walked with a swagger as if to signify he was the best and everyone else was beneath him. Gareth turned to Nathan, who also wore an expression of disgust at their one time "mate" who continued to sell them out for his own gain. And as Darren ascended on his scaffold box, gyrating to the crowd in a cocky attitude, Gareth literally spat at the grass, beneath them, wondering how he'd ever let such a person lead him astray.

'Hey, look,' Nathan whispered to Gareth, pointing to Darren.

With a squint, Gareth saw what Nathan was guiding his attention to - a black plume was missing from the top of Darren's black hat. It seemed unusual, especially as the rest of the corps had plumes, so where was his?

There wasn't much time to dwell on it, however, as soon The Falcons were performing all manner of movements on the field with their arms and instruments, before any music sounded. It was a visual extravaganza, where the only sound was silence for an entire minute.

Bang! The music erupted through the stadium as unified horns sang in chorus, sounding somehow heavenly and terrifying at the same time. The Falcons were in an entirely different league to The Knights in White, the Falmouth Fighters and, of course, Adonis. It was scary to think Darren was part of such a decent sounding corps.

12 or so minutes of pure musical bliss and 12 or so minutes of horror. Gareth couldn't sway the thought that The Falcons were likely to win the whole competition. The only band that came close were Symbiosis. Gareth desperately didn't wish for The Falcons to win.

Just as their show ended and Gareth felt all was lost, Darren turned to the crowd, saluted, then turned to Adonis, giving them the middle finger. Gareth was insulted.

As their bass drum beat lead The Falcons off of the field, Gareth was guided into a single file line with the rest of Adonis, next to The Knights in White and a green uniformed band which Gareth assumed was the Telford Scouts.

'Please welcome to the field in official retreat, the corps of the day!' the announcement came, signalling Symbiosis to lead the bands back onto the field, all at the same time.

The crowd cheered as they all marched onto the field, all in single-file with the rest of their corps, next to one another. They were lead around the edges of the field to Symbiosis' wacky tune, curving around until they all reached the back. Gareth had lost the beat to march to, long ago, and simply proceeded with a walk. It was good enough, he thought, and no one could see him between all the other people.

Finally, the corps all broke off and were led down the yard marker lines, and between, which marked out the field. Adonis broke off and were led down the 40 yard marker to the left half of the field, from Gareth's perspective, until Chase halted them about 20 paces from the field's front.

Symbiosis finished their wacky polka tune, which Gareth was thankful for, before the loudspeaker continued.

'Drum majors, please step to the front to commence the scoring!'

Several members of other bands shouted their drum major's name, as did supporters from the electrifying crowd. The sky had fallen darker still and the floodlights illuminated the stadium ground with a bright white light, as if placing the corps in a spotlight on stage. This was the time of champions.

'Come on, Chase!' Kara yelled, her voice remarkably deep as she did so. Siobhan followed suit, before Gareth joined in.

Chase stood to attention and marched carefully to the field's front, forming an arc of drum majors in uniform, around several judges. Trophies stood on an unfitting table that looked like it had been pilfered from a school, long ago.

Melanie grabbed Gareth's hand.

'Don't worry, it ain't dirty. We're gonna hold hands. We always do this for retreat,' Melanie explained.

The rest of Adonis formed a block, in which they all held hands and faced the front, heads held low in anticipation of the scores to come. Gareth's heart pounded faster and faster.

'Before we commence the scores, Drum Corps United Kingdom would like to give special thanks to the judges who gave their time to mark each and every band. They are...'

Gareth's hearing drowned out the names of the judges, as they were called. His thoughts were elsewhere and on the year gone by. He'd come a long way, there was no denying that, but he still felt negative in how some events had turned out, that year. He felt bad for letting the corps down when he'd given them his all, in particular, and now he felt he was letting them down again. He had to leave, however, with Nathan. This wasn't something he could do year in and year out, but he had needed Adonis to move onto a new stage of his life, just as they had needed him to march their spare trumpet spot. If his mum could be proud of him just once in his lifetime, then that was all he needed.

'...And our Cadet Class champions, Trill!' the speaker re-convened.

There were lots of cheers from the stadium and Gareth was brought back to reality. He'd almost entirely forgotten about the Cadet Class of junior marching bands. Their parents must have been so happy for their kids, marching.

'And now the Open Class scores.' There was a hush. 'As three bands didn't make it into finals, we will start from seventh place. In seventh position, with a score of 67.21...The Cavalry!' Several cheers met this announcement, before Gareth raised his head to see The Cavalry stand to attention. Their drum major marched from their arc and to the judges, before being given a trophy. He marched back into the arc.

'In sixth place, with a score of 68.97... The Knights in White!' the announcer continued.

Several angry shouts, mixed in with the cheers, bellowed from the stadium. Gareth found this hilarious, as The Knights in White supporters had evidently exploded with rage over the final outcome of their show. Serves them right for how rude they were, back in Basingstoke, Gareth thought, his heart hammering from the possibility of being announced.

'In fifth place, with a score of 75.10... Adonis!'

This was a bit of a blow. Gareth re-opened his eyes and took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the evening air. He disconnected his hands with the other members, as Dave Pritchard shouted from somewhere behind them.

'Corps ten hut!'

They complied, standing tall, to attention. Chase marched to the front of the arc, the crowd cheering in his face, as he picked up the small cup from one of the judges. A flash confirmed he had his photo taken.

'Corps stand at ease!' Dave shouted.

Feeling more relaxed, now that it was all over, Gareth found himself breathing heavily from the nerves and adrenaline that had built up over the last few minutes. He felt ill, but still elated that he'd made it this far.

'In fourth place... there is no fourth place!' The crowd gasped, as this could only mean a joint position, next.

'Bloody hell. That, at least, makes me feel better,' Lofty wheezed. In truth, it also made Gareth feel better about their position, since it technically meant they were still fourth.

'In joint third place, both with a score of 75.19, that's seven five point one nine, it's the Telford Scouts and Perfect Cadence!'

'Only just beaten by a pair of tin soldiers,' tutted Siobhan as the crowd cheered in front of them.

'And now onto the top two corps. In second place, with a score of 86.19... is a band which fell short of first position, with a score of 86.21.' There were several "oohs" and "woaaaahs" from the crowd at that moment, before silencing to an unusual hushed state. Everyone was on the edge of their seats to find out who had won.

'So, with a score of 86.19, and the runners up of Open Class...' there was a lengthy pause from the announcer at that moment, filling Gareth's stomach with collywobbles, before finally announcing, 'The Falcons!'

The crowd exploded in ecstatic celebration, as if someone had scored a goal at a football match. Multicoloured jackets and shapes jumped up and down in the stand. Gareth was delighted, as it meant Darren hadn't won, after all! In fact, The Falcons looked like they suffered a heavy points fall, or even a penalty, from their previous show.

'Which means the champions of our Open Class in DCUK, with a score of 86.21, is Symbiosis!' the announcer shouted.

The crowd went nuts, as did the other bands beneath the floodlights, evidently supporting this decision full-heartedly.

Gareth turned to The Falcons, who looked more upset than anything else, but gazed particularly at the shouting commotion at the front of the field.

'You wot? You wot, mates? You're wrong! We deserved to win! Remark them scores!' Darren complained, fixing himself in front of one of the judges at the front of the arc, before the drum major of Symbiosis could claim his trophy.

The tall judge, dressed in a black polo neck shirt, backed away from the confrontational Darren, before Darren gave him a violent shove.

Security were on Darren in seconds, thereafter, pulling Darren away and restraining him. Along with them was Officer Matt Martins, who had his arms crossed and seemed delighted to have the command of several security officers.

Then, as Gareth ogled at the sight and thought things couldn't get any more peculiar, Warren's voice blared out of the loudspeakers.

'Darren Johnson, drum major of The Falcons, you're under arrest for the theft and damage of Adonis Drum and Bugle Corps' instrument truck. Evidence strongly concludes you were the prime culprit in the incident, due to the discovery of your plume in the driver's cabin, as well as your mysterious absence between the hours of theft at Sandy. You will remain silent.'

Nathan's face lit up as he saw Darren pulled away by the beefy security guys, following Officer Martins. Gareth high-fived Nathan, before seeing a rather angry Darren glare towards them, manic and petrified in what was to come. Whatever Darren's sentence, he knew it would be just, especially with his track record over the years.

At last, the drum major of Symbiosis marched up to the front and collected her trophy, to the adoration of the crowd, where Sadie's Dad clapped with a tear in his eyes and Gareth spotted his mum nod in is direction.

'Come on, Gazza, let's congratulate the other corps!' Stefan smiled.

The next few minutes were nothing but laughs and fun as Gareth man-hugged other corps members from Perfect Cadence, Symbiosis and even The Falcons, despite their differences over the past season. It was more against Darren than anything else.

As Chase strolled back to Adonis, Mandy joined him from having congratulated other corps around the field. He shook hands with several people, before setting his sights on Gareth.

'Mr. Firkins,' Chase started, his tone quivering and angry. Gareth was sure to get it, now. 'You have voiced your decision to leave Adonis Drum and Bugle Corps. With that in mind, I only have one singular statement for you...' Gareth braced himself for the mother of all telling offs. 'Thank you.'

'What?' Gareth barked in disbelief.

'You filled a void which Adonis was trapped between dimensions without. We may have clashed, but you're all right. You have transformed, Mr. Firkins, and I bestow my trust upon you that you will continue to follow your new path of Spanish gold. You may have been a neurotic scumbag, but hell, you were our neurotic scumbag. I wish you the best,' Chase thanked, holding out his hand to Gareth.

Gareth looked at the extended hand, for a moment, then back up to Chase's face, which was sweaty but truthful in its message. Gareth firmly shook Chase's hand.

'As for your trumpet, we'll need it back,' Mandy confirmed.

Gareth bit his lip. His trumpet, named after his mother, had been like a family member over the past season. To lose her felt like he was losing a part of himself. Then he realised, he only needed one Kerry-Anne in his life and it was clear who this would be.

'Fine. But remember you'd never have got this far without me this year... me and my trumpet,' Gareth reminded.

Chase went to snap back, but then stopped himself, realising Gareth was probably right. He nodded in respectful return.

'I have a favour to ask of you, Mr. Firkins,' Chase continued. 'As the bands march off, I entrust you with the ability of drum major, and to lead the corps off of the field.'

Gareth was flabbergasted.

'Wha... why?' he asked, perplexed.

'Just do it. Trust me, my chumly,' Mandy smiled.

Gareth nodded, before Chase cracked his knuckles.

'Now, if you'll excuse me...' Chase walked away to elsewhere on the field as the corps all gathered back together.

'Congrats, you've been promoted, boss,' Dave winked, patting Gareth on the back, 'so call us up when you're ready.'

Adonis formed a block behind Gareth, around the 40 yard marker line, once more. Gareth couldn't help but feel immensely proud of all that he'd achieved over the year.

He watched as the other corps marched in a block, behind their drum majors, horizontally in front of Gareth. The corps' drum major saluted the remaining corps and their leaders, before leading their band off of the field. They seemed to be marching off in reverse order of victory.

Looking up into the crowd, Gareth finally spotted his father's face beaming down at him. Birch gave a thumbs up, before fading into the crowd around him. Gareth gave a sad smile, knowing this would be the last time he ever saw his father, but knowing full well his memory would live on.

He then turned to his mum, Kerry-Anne, who waved frantically down at Gareth, a smile spread on her face from how proud she was. Gareth's smile turned from sadness to happiness. He'd achieved all that he'd wanted with Adonis. Now all that was left to do was march away.

'Hit it, Yammers Junior!' Gareth commanded.

Dum. Dum. Dum. Silence. Dum. Dum. Dum. Silence.

'Forward march and!'

Adonis proceeded to march forward, following Gareth as he turned to face the other drum majors. He punched his chest as Chase did, and saluted each of those who remained, including the stand-in for The Falcons.

However, as Gareth turned the corps around to head off of the field, he noticed one other drum major left to salute, who now stood where Adonis once had.

Chase Diggby punched his chest and saluted Gareth Firkins, knowing full well that Gareth had a positive future ahead of him until the end of days.