The storm raged overhead, but Paul barely noticed. He had been standing here in the rain for the past hour, waiting. His jet black hair was plastered to his head. His dark tan and black clothing turned him into a shadow. He was a senior… who had just seen what he had been waiting for.
A flashlight beam flicked on and off once. He smiled grimly and reached up under his shirt, which was also stuck to his tall, not exactly lanky frame. Pulling out a dark pouch, he opened it, pulled out a flashlight of his own and flashed back. He frowned and dropped it back in the bag. Pulling out a thick steel rope with a rather large hook attached to the end, he turned to face the school. The pouch hit the pavement with a splash.
Five minutes later, Paul was on the roof. He sat down and faced the parking lot. He didn't flinch as another dark form launched itself onto the roof, right next to him. The figure broke its fall with a precisely executed roll before standing. Paul stood as well and smiled as Mo whipped off his ski mask. He grinned as Paul held out his hand.
"Did you bring it?"
"Yeah, it's right here. How long have you been waiting?" Mo asked and placed a badly wrapped package into the waiting hand.
"An hour. Is Stephanie coming?"
"She should be up here any minute." They stood silently side by side, Mo noticeably shorter than Paul. A second black form whipped past them, also breaking with a roll before hopping to its feet. The guys didn't turn around as Stephanie gently pulled off her ski mask and shook out her hair.
"Let's go."
They carefully picked their way across the roof, all dripping wet. The rain was falling harder now. Mo swore as Stephanie slipped and carefully helped her up. Paul ignored them. Drumline dating wasn't permitted; it was the most important drumline law, but since Stephanie was a field commander now, he tolerated it. They all stopped when they got to the section of the roof that was most crucial. The skylights over the Commons.
Paul sidestepped countless skylights and stopped at one, right at the corner farthest from where they had started, before bending down. His fingers traced the seams before grabbing on to something. Gesturing to the other two, he began to lift up on it. They rushed over to help, and the glass pyramid over the actual window was laid gently on the roof. Mo made sure the hinges were still intact, before tapping three times on the glass of the skylight. He frowned. Carefully, he stood up, water pooling over the glass, and jumped through it.
Paul squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that the crash wouldn't come. When the only loud noise that followed was the thunder rolling through the clouds he smiled and jumped down himself. He grunted as he hit the floor, rolling just like Mo and Stephanie. He winced as he ran into the leg of a table before carefully standing. They were in!
The Commons was a large room filled halfway with tables and chairs. It served as Southview's cafeteria. On the other half, a sunken pit took up most of the floor, the tiled cougar in the center gleaming as lightning flashed. He flinched for the first time all night at Stephanie's voice calling down frantically.
"Paul, Mo!" She spied Paul looking up at her, squinting as rain splashed him in the face. "Paul, Patrick's here!"
"Patrick? But he said he wasn't coming!"
"Yeah, but I got around it. Watch out!" Another black form dropped through the glass trapdoor that was hanging perilously from the open skylight. It landed on its feet, bending the knees on impact and steadying itself with the hands. Patrick jumped up, unmasked. He grinned and held it up, clutched tightly in his hand. His not-long-not-short light brown hair was damp and ruffled more than usual. He was muscular and took off running down the hall, face set. He wanted to get right to work. Paul snickered at his black clothing marred by perfectly white shoes. Patrick had always been… eccentric.
The flush of a toilet let him know where Mo had disappeared to. Paul turned around and stared down the hallway where band people had their lockers. It was locked off. Next to the hall, the men's bathroom rang with the sound of Mo's footsteps as he hurried out. Stephanie peered down impatiently at them.
"Catch me?"
"Jump."
Paul and Mo caught her as she fell through. Then, Mo leapt up onto the table and pulled himself halfway through the skylight. He grabbed at the pyramid and slammed it over the hole. The rain pounded loudly on it. He fell to the floor and gave Paul a thumbs-up.
"Who all is here?"
"Everyone that matters."
"Even the freshmen?"
"Kaylyn, Mitch, Dillon, Ben and Jeff are all here."
"So John, Goofy, Rothschild, Ryan, Provo, Poodles and Greg came too?"
"Everyone. Except the bells, of course."
"Of course."
They were walking down a hall that led to the theater and the back entrance to the band room. Quickly, they reached the double doors that were usually chained and slowly opened them. Paul held them as Mo and Stephanie slipped inside. He grabbed his flashlight and turned it on as the doors slammed shut behind them.
Rows and rows of chairs met their eyes. They jogged quickly down the isle and came to the short brick wall that kept idiots from falling into the orchestra pit. They followed it until they reached the stairs down into it. They sprinted the length of the pit, ran up the stairs and onto the stage where they promptly stopped. Stephanie's heart pounded in her ears as the guys dropped to their stomachs and slid slowly across the floor. The reached the center and stopped. Paul took out the package that Mo had given him earlier and set it beside him. They pressed their ears against the floor. Then, slowly, they knocked quickly on it five times.
A trapdoor flew open right in front them, clipping Mo on the nose. He winced, but smiled as Poodles' head popped up.
"Hey, they're here!" he called down then disappeared from view. Paul and Mo carefully jumped down, taking care not to leave the package behind. Stephanie laughed out of relief and ran to the hole where she dropped down as well.
Under the stage, it was rather cramped with several supports every few meters. It was a wonder how Poodles had gotten his head above the stage; underneath, it was at least 7 feet from the floor to the stage.
"So, Poodles, how'd you get your head to get out of that hole? You sit on John's shoulders again?" Mo teased. Poodles laughed. He had a fine fuzz of black hair covering his head. He had shaved it during band camp.
"Paul!" Rothschild ran up and smacked Paul a high five. He was even shorter than Poodles, wore glasses, and has extremely curly blond-ish hair.
"I've got it, everybody. I've got it!" Paul cried. The entire drumline fell silent. They were all wearing black. He slowly walked to where they were all clustered and ripped the paper off of the package. He bent down, and everyone scooted back to make room for him in their circle. He placed it on the floor and waited. No one's eyes left the object. They were frozen with anticipation.
Paul smiled as his friends let out a wild cheer. It had worked.
"Get the hammers. It's gonna be a long night."
Patrick set chisels and promptly began to pound them into the cement. Everyone followed his lead, including Paul. It was extremely loud under the stage; none of them noticed, however. They were on drumline for a reason.
Sweat was rolling down Kaylyn's face, but she barely noticed. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, blue-green eyes focused on the chisel she was hammering. She was a freshman, and the only girl on the entire line. When she had joined, she certainly hadn't bargained for this. And when they told her she didn't have to, it would be dangerous, she said that she didn't care. She was on drumline. She had worked hard to get here.
Next to her, Greg was pounding away as well. He was a skinny, tall kid with blonde hair and glasses and was definitely a character. He played bass drum and despite being a sophomore, was second only to John. So when he finally broke through the thick layer of concrete, all most everyone could do was stare in amazement. Kaylyn congratulated him.
"Yay, Greg!"
"Hey Paul, can you see what's down there? Paul?"
Paul didn't answer right away. He just stared.
"Get me a flashlight. Now." Everyone scrambled to pull out their flashlight first. Paul grabbed John's. He flicked it on and directed the beam down into the hole. He smiled. Then, standing, he jumped as high as he could under the stage, and slammed his weight down on the rest of the cement covering the hole. He plummeted fast and hit the bottom of the pit with a crash. Swearing, he sat up, eyes closed to avoid the rest of the concrete raining down on top of him. He looked up to see everyone staring down at him.
"…Wow. That was intelligent," John drawled, staring him straight in the eye. Paul grinned. Unless he had told someone, they probably wouldn't have guessed that John was gay. Looking around, he noticed crates. Smiling, he shook off the gray dust that was coating him. He crawled over to the nearest one and tried to pry the lid off.
"Here, Paul, have a crowbar," Ryan snorted, and tossed it down. His aim was terrible and he hit Paul on his right shoulder blade.
"You do know, Claire, that a center snare has to actually be able to play," Mo snickered. Ryan shrugged, and they both jumped down in the pit, followed by Provo. Paul massaged his shoulder, and pried open the crate with the crowbar. He threw the lid aside and reached down, pulling out…
"Light bulbs."
"Are you serious!" yelled Mitch. Paul pulled out one and threw it to Goofy.
"Alex, help the freshman change the light bulb that burned out in the drumline closet," Paul ordered. Mitch gaped.
"No! I'm not changing any light bulbs!" he snapped. John grabbed him by the front of his shirt and nearly hoisted him off the ground.
"Yes… you… are," he snarled, and dropped him on the ground again. Mitch jumped up and flew angrily out of the trapdoor. Goofy and John exchanged high fives.
"Paul… you might want to get over here," Provo called cautiously. Paul scooted over to the crate that the quad players had pried open. Inside, packed extremely tight, were stacks and stacks of money.
"Oh snap," Ryan muttered, holding up a large chunk of bills. They were all twenties. "How much is in here?"
"Um… like 500 dollars."
The rest of the drumline immediately flew down into the pit and began to attack the remaining crates. Dillon and Poodles were lucky enough to grab the crowbar and once successful, began to dance around, tossing money into the air. Jeff ran after them, grabbing all the money that had fallen to the floor. Kaylyn and Greg were busy counting bills, trying to figure out how much had been stored in the crates. Ben and Rothschild ran around giving high fives and chest bumps. Provo finally stood up.
"SHUT UP!" He yelled. Everyone fell silent. Money slowly drifted to the ground. "Dillon, Poodles, quit throwing it around. Kaylyn, Greg, how much have you counted so far?"
"There's 500 dollars in every crate," Greg answered.
"Except for this one," John growled. "More light bulbs."
"So," Paul interrupted, "there are twelve crates. Two have light bulbs, and the other ten have 500 dollars in them."
"Which means we have 5000 dollars altogether," Stephanie finished. A shocked silence followed.
"Wait… How'd all this money get down here anyway?" Rothschild wondered.
"It's on this lid," Mo replied. "It's a note from the tenth Southview drumline… which means it's from fifteen years ago. Basically… they scammed a bunch of people and never got caught. Like ten years worth of scamming. They stopped after the tenth year because they almost got caught. But that's 500 dollars a year!"
John swore. At that moment, Mitch and Goofy dropped down into the pit. Kaylyn jumped, along with several others.
"What'd we miss? The freshman took forever to change the da –"
"Money," blurted Ben. "Lots of money."
"How much?" Mitch asked, suddenly interested.
"5000 dollars," Paul beamed. "And it's definitely going to be of some use this year."
The drumline scandal was about to commence.
It's kinda long, but I hope it kept you entertained! And don't worry: my drumline might think that they're a bunch of super human ninjas, but in all reality... they're not.