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Shit shit SHIT. Why the hell did I sign up for this, again? Virgil was pacing back and forth in the area between the bleachers and the wall, trying to calm his breathing. It was one thing to do this in practice when you could slow it down, but it was another to do this in front of the entire school and possibly make a mistake and embarrass yourself.
“Virgil?” He looked up at the sudden, yet familiar sound. He saw Roman looking down at him from the bleachers, both his and Virgil’s trumpets in his lap. “You’re going to be ok, I believe in you.”
Virgil swallowed, fidgeting with his sleeves. “Still doesn’t make me any less terrified, but… thanks, Princey.”
“Line up!” Virgil silently cursed and walked over, carefully picking up his trombone before he got in line. The order never changed, tallest to shortest. He glanced back one last time to see Roman giving him two thumbs up, then the cadence started to play. He took a deep breath and started marching out, following the line, and setting up in the middle of the gym.
In front of the entire school.
Once their feet were set up, the person at the end of the line began calling out her direction. Virgil watched carefully, though he already knew which direction he would be.
“LEFT!” He called out once it got to him, flipping his trombone so the bell was down and in front of him. He waited until the last person called out before looking over to the drummers, waiting to see just how fast they were going to be going.
The new cadence began, their tempo at roughly 170. He took another deep breath and chanted with everyone; “TACOS TACOS TACOS TACOS YUM!” He still never understood why tacos were their thing, but now wasn’t the time to question it. They raised their trombones to their shoulders in unison, chanting the phrase one more time before they began.
On the Yum, they began. Virgil snapped to his left, trombone parallel to the ground, before snapping back center, then down. The only thing he was focusing on was counting. He could not stop counting. He could not count wrong. He could not hit someone or be hit because his counting was off. By the time the first set of eight counts were done, he began to feel his adrenaline rushing in and he felt more confident.
The fourth set of eight passed, and he snapped his trombone to be vertical and in front of him. He felt his heart racing as he got ready to do the next group. Executioners, his favorite…
He glanced at a shocked yet excited Roman in the stands, a relieved smile on his face. Next thing he knew, the cadence was going again, 30 beats faster than before. They went through the chants and began. Instead of snapping left this time, Virgil jumped to his left, then again to be facing the opposite direction. There was no going right in this, he only had to jump to the left and snap down when center. Counting was even more crucial, but he also had to focus on not jumping on anyone’s feet or losing his balance. Without the support of both people beside him, keeping that balance when snapping down was definitely much harder. He was never truly prepared for executioners.
They finished, bringing their trombone back down to their sides. The school was screaming as they turned to their right, marching back to their hiding hole. Virgil set his trombone back underneath the bleachers, then went back to join the rest of the band, sitting next to Roman as he took his trumpet back.
“Virge, that was amazing! I don’t know how the hell you can all do that without getting hit!” Roman playfully punched him in the shoulder.
“Heh, you’d be surprised… “ Maybe signing up was a good call after all. He looked at Roman with a smile. He was still high on adrenaline from the trombone suicide routine, so he quickly kissed Roman on the cheek, catching the taller man off guard. And of course, totally denying he had just done anything with a grin.