Adagio:
(Italian) literally 'at ease', 'leisurely', as an indication of tempo, slow, leisurely, solemnly, generally slower than andante and faster than largo
It was 7:59 in the morning, on a bright, sunny, July Monday, and the teenagers crowding the South Copperton High School band hall could not have been more exhausted. Most were sitting or lying on the carpet, trying to catch a few minutes of rest before marching practice began.
That wasn't going to work, Hailey decided. Straightening up on her crutches, she took a deep breath.
"BAND!"
The result was instantaneous. All upperclassmen, and even those freshmen that weren't completely incompetent, jumped to their feet, placed their left arm behind their backs, and their right one rigidly at their side. "SOUTH!" they chimed in unison, watching Hailey and her two companions for more instructions.
"Alright, everybody get outside!" Layla ordered, watching in satisfaction as the two hundred and fifty students before her did as they were told. "It feels better than it did last year," she said to Hailey and Arianna, giggling as the three of them followed their band out to the parking lot.
A large portion of the lot was roped off with cones and bright yellow CAUTION tape, proudly marking the territory as belonging to the band. It was to this area that the group of students walked, pausing and waiting for more instructions.
"Section Leaders, split up your sections into rows of ten and show them where to stand! Flutes to tubas!"
Arianna watched as, slowly, the mass of people before her gained some form and order. Students stood in lines of ten, stretching over sixty feet across and fifty feet back. Once everyone knew where they were to stand, they moved to set their water bottles and canteens next to them, before returning to their spots and beginning to stretch.
"Did I miss anything important?"
Starting, Arianna turned to see Brooklyn standing beside her, hands on her hips. The black-haired girl scowled. "Where have you been? I covered for you with Layla, but Hailey's in a bad mood, and if she notices that you just got here-"
"Foster!"
Brooklyn and Arianna flinched simultaneously, turning to greet Hailey with weary smiles. "Hey Hailey," Brooklyn began, sounding a bit hopeful. "Um, sorry about being late; my Mom made me run to the store for her before I came here-"
"Cut the crap, Foster. You were supposed to be here six minutes ago; you're late, no excuses." Hailey fixed the pair before her with a level gaze. "You two are still juniors, whether you are Drum Majors or not, and I can assign you laps just like the rest of the band. So I would strongly suggest that you learn your place and stick to the rules, or I will have no problem placing either of you on probation. Got it?"
Red-faced, Arianna bit her lip and nodded. She nudged Brooklyn in the side when her friend didn't answer Hailey; the girl sighed but nodded reluctantly in understanding.
Satisfied for the moment, Hailey hobbled back over to where Layla was standing before the band, leading the stretching. "If I catch you slacking off on this, you'll be running ten times around the school!" she threatened. Layla snorted at her friend, but the other students grumbled and began to put more energy into their stretches.
"I hate her," Brooklyn muttered, once she was sure that Hailey was too far away to be able to hear her. "I mean, not always, but sometimes I really do hate her. She thinks that just because she's a year older, she can boss us around like that?"
Arianna shrugged; she was never comfortable arguing with anybody. "Let's just go help her out," she decided, walking over in Layla and Hailey's' direction and standing a little ways away from them so that more of the band could see her, while Brooklyn did the same thing on the other side. Layla, Brooklyn, and Arianna led the stretches slowly, while Hailey limped through the sea of band members, checking to make sure that everybody was working. "Focus!" she would occasionally call out, startling whoever happened to stand next to her at that moment. "This is going to help you in the long run! Besides, we're going to do it every day, so get used to it!"
"I can see that you all have been busy," a voice commented mildly in Layla's ear. The senior turned and broke into a grin.
"Where have you been all morning, Mr. Fitz? The band hall was unlocked when we got here, but none of you guys were here."
"Bryan and Sarah are out of town for a gig, and Marie already took the Colorguard to the gym for morning practice, so it's just me today," the man said, smiling as he observed the teenagers stretching before him. "Nobody looks very happy."
"Well, when you've got Hailey screaming and threatening to beat you with one of her crutches…" Brooklyn muttered, just loudly enough to be heard by Layla, who turned and shot her a glare. Mr. Fitzwilliam simply laughed.
"That won't work; our marchers have to be happy. Let me take over from here," he told Layla. The girl nodded and took a few steps back, whistling to draw everyone's attention to the man before her.
"All right guys, let's be honest: everybody hates stretching," the man shouted, drawing a few laughs. "That being said, you have to do them anyways. They increase flexibility and loosen your body, and those two things are very useful in marching."
He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the ground before facing the band again. "Now then, let's start over, and everybody copy me. Think of it as music! This isn't just something you're doing so you can be done with it; you're living it. What speed do you think we should move at?"
"Slowly!" many of the students called out earnestly. Mr. Fitzgerald shook his head.
"We aren't in English class! We're in marching band! Use marching band terms!"
"Adagio!" a small, slight freshman girl suggested loudly. She blushed and covered her mouth, cheeks turning red. Mr. Fitzgerald smiled kindly at her.
"Adagio it is," he decided, bringing his arms out to his side and stretching his fingertips. "Alright, together now. And…inhale! Exhale! Inhale! Exhale!"
Arms swept up and floated down; Deep breaths were released simultaneously, creating a stirring in the air amongst two hundred and fifty teenagers. Hailey returned to the front of the group and stood by Layla, her expression sullen.
"Why can't I get them to work like that?" she whispered to her best friend.
Layla didn't answer.
Chapter Dos! Man, this story is so fun to write, but I meant to upload this chapter two days ago, and the Login area was screwed up! It's just now letting me on. Still, better late than never, right?
Chapter Question: What is/was your favorite High School elective?