The brilliant white lights would have blinded me had it not been for the brim on my hat. The brim cast a shadow over my eyes and I liked it that way. My eyes roamed the crowd that was cheering in the stands. The people were moving constantly, creating a sea of skin tones. My eyes moved to the drum major.
He stood with his hands clasped, listening as the announcer read out the pieces we would be playing. Finally, his two hands rose. One hand signaled the drum line and the other hand began the music. His left foot tapped slightly to help him keep the tempo.
I followed the person in front of me as we wove intricate patterns on the field. Then, she was part of another line and I was leading now. I could feel the wind brushing against my plume, causing the red and white feathers to flutter with the color guard flags.
Out of my left eye, I watched the dance line coming closer. Then the music ceased in my area and my line began twirling around the dance line, giving the audience the mental image of whirlpools. The guard joined us and raised blue flags to add to the image.
My line eased it's way out of the formation and began playing again. We marched across the field to mesh with the other woodwinds. The brass swooped in and darted between us. One misstep and the entire band would fall – that's how closely we marched.
Suddenly we fanned out and the fanfare rolled across the field. Then, all was silent.
The crowd went wild. Never mind that we still had two more numbers, we had astounded them.
The applause rolled over me. I ignored it. It was but a buzz in my ear. Instead my eyes roamed the human sea, looking for the one I loved.
He was sitting silently, watching from atop the press box. His face was masked from me by the lights, but I could feel he was looking at me. His body stood tall, proud. He had created this show and it was a success.
I smiled briefly, hoping nobody would notice.
The drum major raised his arms again. The second number began.
Soon the third number was ending and I glanced up again.
The music echoed across the field as it died, leaving me feeling alone. Until I saw him again. This time he was leaning over the fence, drinking in the applause that rolled among the audience.
The drum major turned and bowed, his body bent perfectly.
The audience began screaming and clapping even louder.
The drum major stood, saluted, and then turned to us. A no-nonsense look marred his chiseled face. His raise his arms, crossed them and then uncrossed them. He turned and climbed down the side of the podium.
The drum line began a cadence as soon as his arms had uncrossed. The cadence led us off the field in several lines.
On the sideline, I reached up and plucked out my plume. Grasping the plume in my left hand, I used my right to un-choke my hat. As soon as I was un-choked, I pushed the hat off my head and wiped my damp forehead with my right hand. The glove had a faint trace of foundation on it, but I could care less. I could bleach it later. My instrument lay cradled in my arms as my plume was taken from me by a chaperone. An icy cup of water was pressed into my hand and the chaperone moved on.
It was the last time I would march. Marching season was over. Football season was over. Soon, I would be graduating. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to celebrate with my friends.
I felt him come up to me. I felt him lean over and pat my shoulder.
I turned and the world froze. He pressed the first finger on his right hand to his lips and then placed the finger on my cheek and then on the corner of my mouth. He smiled a brief smile as I raised my hand to the corned of my mouth.
He was gone almost instantly. No one had noticed the brief exchange. I smiled inwardly and watched him move among the band.
Soon, very soon I would graduate and then we could become more than student and director.
He turned and glanced at me, a smile on his lips.
I returned the smile and suddenly felt myself looking forward to graduation.
A/N: For all of you that wanted me to come back. This is an old story, one that I wrote well over a year ago. Feelings have shifted. I've changed, but I still like this story.
Goldnote: Thank you for all you do. You are one of the best friends a girl could have.