Chapter 10
*March to the Beat of my Drum*
A man spoke into a microphone.
He had a horrible, raspy voice, that made it difficult to hear what he was saying.
But some words could be made out,
"Now, the new and improved, Morkwell High School marching band!"
The crowd cheered, but not for long.
When a rather band, made up of purely flutes, clarinets, trumpets, tubas, and other various wind instruments took the field, many people only had one question on their minds,
'Where the hell is the drumline?'
Every row in the stadium was stuffed with people.
Many, waiting to see their son, daughter, grandson, granddaughter, niece, nephew, etc, etc…come onto the field in their own school colors.
But as Mr. Holts eyes scanned the crowds as he led his band onto the field, he missed one group of people.
Then again, he was the only one who missed them. Six people sat dead center.
Dressed in full uniform, shakos and all. They group had drums strapped to their chests, three of them had their hands crossed on the drum. The other three, sat patiently, as if waiting for something to happen.
They were being eyed suspiciously as the music began playing.
The drummers did nothing but sit. A man walked towards them, and spoke to the middle boy holding the snare drum. The boy nodded his head, and the man walked up towards the announcers booth. There was static fuzz that came out of the speakers, before the man spoke from the booth,
"Excuse me." The band continued playing. The man spoke a bit louder, "EXCUSE me."
The music slowly came to a halt, Mr. Holt frantically looking around, wondering what could possibly be stopping his wonderous band.
"I would like to formally greet, the Morkwell drumline, as they take the field!" The crowd roared as Mr. Holts face quickly turned a dark, red shade.
The six people did not stand, as every eye slowly turned to them. The two snare players in the middle, began playing straight quarter notes as everything went quiet.
The end quad player soon joined in, and then the three basses.
They all stood up, playing in unison, and began making their way down the bleachers and towards the field.
The entire band was frozen in shock, noone knew what was going on. It was then they walked onto the field, and marched past their director, who was now steaming with rage.
They drummers turned towards the audience, and stopped their playing.
"GET OFF MY FIELD!"
Mr. Holt boomed storming towards them.
Reese Morgon removed his shako and placed it on his drum head, a smirk slowly stretching out on his face.
"Did you honestly think we would give up when you told us too?"
Mr. Holt let out a furious yell, before grasping Demi Parker's drumsticks, and throwing them halfway across the field.
The crowd booed in unison. Demi smiled.
"Just let us march, Holt." She wasn't begging this time.
"And if you don't let us, where just gonna do it anyway." Nick added shifting his body weight so it was more comfortable holding up the quads.
"You don't have a say anyway. Its not your band."
The whole marching band gasped, when Mr. G walked onto the field.
Mr. Holt approached him, "What do you mean its not my band?"
Mr. G pulled out a strip of paper, "two thousand dollars for a down payment on a beach house in Hawaii? I had your job, and theres no way you could afford this." Mr. G paused and moved closer to a now frozen Mr. Holt, "Where'd you get the money David?"
The cowed was surprisingly silent, and the marching band, including the drumline, watched in awe.
"I didn't want to be a band director anyway!" Mr. Holt quickly snapped. Mr. G smirked, holding the paper under his now crossed arms.
"You spend all the bands funds! And your even in the process of trying to sell the drumline instruments for your own uses!"
The band, and the other bands watching gasped in unison.
Mr. G proudly walked to the Morkwell High band. "Well? We have a show to finish don't we?" He winked, turning towards the drumline, "Now would you like to do this the right was, and cadence onto the field?"
The six friends smiled, until Nick yet out a yell of victory. Reese reached to the ground and picked up Demi's drumsticks, when she reached out for them, he pulled her into a kiss.
"Are you guys ready to do this the right way?" Reese called out to the band pulling away from a star stuck Demi. The students, and audience cheered. Mr. G clapped his hands together and turned to leave the field.
"Mr. G!" Reese called out towards him. He glanced over his shoulders, as the rest of the band pasted him, ready to march back onto the field. "Thanks" He said with a smile. Mr. G nodded his head and walked off the field turning to Mr. Holt, who was still standing in utter shock that, that had just happened.
"Get him the hell of my field."
(((The End! :D))